The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter Four- The Vatican Conference III
18/09/1924/ Rome, Kingdom of Ildoa / 2.5KM North East of the Vatican, Outside the il Nido del Diavolo Osteria / 20:06
Gabriel tried to tuck his inky fingerprint-stained book into a breast pocket stitched onto his jacket. Not breaking pace as he excited the loud bar behind him, a familiar and unheeded flat voice encouraging him to slow down. He was starting to miss the simplicity of soldiering as a mage, there was less needed to continuously change clothing. He had a red tunic for fighting and a khaki tunic for dress uniform. In the span of a single day, he had been forced by circumstance to go from churchgoer, briefly back to an officer before his date, then to Prince and now a crossbreed of a civilian soldier playing the role of a spy.
If he was being honest with himself, he would have to confide that the cloak around him was a welcome addition. It reminded him of the knights in the stories he had heard a lifetime ago. In the opaque blanket of nighttime, he could disappear if he kept his hood up and pulled the robe around his body. If only this ability transferred to the social setting.
He stopped on the lip of the road, still trying to force the book into a pocket. One step forward and he could become a victim of a horrendous accident. If only the road was populated by motor vehicles or horses. Now idle, the book and folded handkerchiefs could slide inside the safety of a pocket. Another advantage was granted to the figure following in his step, quick to forcefully pull her master away from the non-existent danger of the asphalt. The only result being a mild yelp from the surprise embodied of the taller figure.
"I would request you to stay on the sidewalk sir." Miss Canvel blended in well to the darkness even when her hood rested down her back. In no more words, she walked on, ordering her Prince to follow by the nature of her step. An action more effective than any verbal command.
Gabriel caught up and matched Maid Canvel's pace. Their mission had been accomplished. All that was needed of them was to return to the safety of the Vatican and deny they had ever left its confines to retrieve an item that never existed.
"What did she say?" There was no longer a need for Miss Canvel to speak. Meaning she was acting on her own interest.
"You didn't hear her?"
"Her Majesty wanted you to retrieve the package from Madam Pierre on account of your mutual discretion." Miss Canvel readjusted her hood back onto her head. "You can imagine myself lording over you would be more than noticeable."
Gabriel nodded, realizing the stupidity of his question only in time to regret its utterance. They were walking up a mild incline back to their haven, but in the moonlight that silhouetted their figures the reality around them was illuminated. Quaint brick buildings made into commercial or small residential spots; it was not antiquity, but it was still Rome. It would have to do in place of the Flavian Amphitheatre.
"Is this what Albion was like?" Canvel was only an early teen when the revolution forced her from Britannia and to the Dominion of Aquilona, but she would know more than a toddler kept to a palace ever would. She looked straight ahead as she remarked on the past.
"Depends on where you were. Each city and town has its own life to it and her inhabitants. My Sheffield was like this but busier for a steel city, a more laid out design. The buildings were taller and the streets were wider too."
"Do you miss it?"
"As much as you do I suppose sir." Before Gabriel could contemplate that thought of his supposed home lost to him, a hand wedged itself under his arm and started pulling him in a new direction. "This way sir."
Miss Canvel pulled Gabriel across the street, out of the trajectory of another group coming downhill. If they were spotted in the dark Gabriel predicted the sight of the shorter woman pulling him would bring them amusement. He was familiar with the outline of a holstered gun on his waist, it was new when that sensation was impressed into him accidentally by another. An alleyway gave them refuge until the group passed by, unaware of the comical caution on display hidden across the street.
"Never be too careful sir." Then she stepped out and continued uphill without bidding her precious cargo to follow. Gabriel was still contemplating the idea of his homesickness. Next time he had Peggie and William's ear to pull on they could discuss it further. Maybe Major Hanover could tell him about old Albion again too. It took Canvel's board authoritative coaxing to get him back onto the sidewalk and out of his own head.
"I'm owed a hot bath when we get back sir. Please resist the notion to linger any longer."
Then she was back to walking up the road, Gabriel keeping in pace this time. It was never wise to argue with anyone presently armed.
"I apologise for digging into your time this evening Miss Canvel."
"I see. So you can tell who the cause of this excursion is."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind." Canvel peeked at the Prince again. "It is Madam Pierre who missed the drop point, and the fault of the circumstance for her missing Miss Mills."
Confusion followed but further questioning to her first comment went unanswered, pursuit would bear no fruit. Silence did not linger as the maid shifted topics as to erase any connection to the previous subject she had no interest in. Once again, Canvel found herself repeating her words to the young man once he realized he was being addressed.
"I said how was your date with Princess Adler today?" She heard her protected escort start to grumble at the subject.
"I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. We're meeting again the day after tomorrow so I'll have another chance to embarrass myself."
"Embarrass yourself how?" Canvel indulged in another peek. "You didn't confess that you loved her did you?"
"No."
"Thank the Lord."
Gabriel did not skip a beat in his reply. "I'm not one for lying."
"Then what is the issue at hand?" Canvel allowed the Prince to contemplate an answer.
"She seems more interested in anything that isn't me. She was more excited to hear about Sir Indiana than me. Part of me understands since-"
"Please stop sir. I have no interest in hearing you complain about yourself." Gabriel muttered an apology. That should have been enough of the pitiful excuse of a social interaction, but his protector was interested in its continuance for reasons unknown to the Lieutenant. It was a reoccurring theme of his guards providing the vehicle for promoting discussion.
"I'm sorry to hear that sir. I'm afraid there's little that can be done about that. Women can be divisive at her age." Another pause came and went before the subject was pursued further. "You are aware you will likely have limited say regarding Lady Adler."
Gabriel neglected to sigh. "That I am. And I would be grateful if we can disregard that topic for the moment Miss Canvel."
She relented on the notion of promoting further discussion. The silence characteristic of the maid returned for awhile. Only their footsteps on the stone beneath them echoed around the streets of Rome. The walk continued undisturbed until the maid paused in her tracks, releasing a sigh of apparent frustration. Gabriel looked back to Miss Canvel's unreadable expression trying to make a decision.
"I believe I hear another group approaching us sir. I advise we take another path. It's rather dark so I'll have to ask you help keep an eye on our surrounding sir." Instead of an alley, she ducked into another street, no longer fighting the hill's incline. Gabriel did not hear what she claimed but knew never to judge her senses. He had been given his computation orb as a final measure and could activate a formula to confirm Canvel's suspicion. But if his Mother requested it be used as a last resort it should be done as such.
Maintaining the pace of his escort Gabriel and followed her orders. Part of him wanted to question if he should use a spell but he did not trust his judgment over hers. Even if her priorities were revolving around a mixture of protection and bathing. At least he could see more of the eternal city, the closest thing to his supposed home.
19/09/1924/ Rome, Kingdom of Ildoa / The Vatican, Governor's Palace / 09:49
The conference room was arranged with two elongated tables on opposite sides of the room. Opposite the entrance was the third set of smaller tables, creating a three-sided box marked by respective country flags. The resulting gap in the centre was a space intended to be left empty, presently filled with people of varying nationalities; reserved for idle chatter before the main event. The driving motivation for the Conference had been organized and was about to play out.
James half-read and half-listened to information pertaining to the politics of their Middle Eastern possessions. One of the Daqin political advisors had followed him into the room and James lacked the heart to tell him to bugger off. It was important information, the Jerusalem rebuilding effort, reappropriated taxes, budget management and such were necessary for his profession. But why did he have to tolerate it now? He would be spending the next several hours listening to men talking and filibustering politics; let him have some fun for a bit. The aid was wrapping up about administrative technicalities on olive groves when a black and white dress curtsied in the corner of his eye.
Finally. A break.
"Miss Canvel." James closed the folder and handed it back to the assistant. "Líkāi wǒmen." Leave us. The well-mannered man bowed and took his leave, thankfully.
"Any news to tell?" If they were in private he could be blunt, but if one of the maids came now there must have been worthwhile information to share.
"Miss Sanders has translated my findings from the other day." The maid vailed her speech, but the message was clear. They had cracked a portion of the Lechret's family cypher. It was still subject to change daily but it was less of a blind guessing game. With moderate difficulty, they could now listen into any Francoisian transmission they could get their hands on. The expedition into the enemy's quarters while most of the personnel and guards were elsewhere had paid off exponentially.
"Is it as the Hellenic intelligence predicted?" James questioned and Canvel ambiguously confirmed what was suspected. James made the mental note to approve the repositioning of the 27th mage unit. "Her Majesty is with the Emperor right now; would you like to be the one to inform her?"
"It was your work Miss, I shalt take your glory in front of Her Majesty."
Her Majesty.
James smirked. Having spent his life hearing Mother's title, it still held an unnatural feeling to him. She was well worthy of it but somehow he wondered if his own blood was really from that of the Queen. It was of no consequence, however. One day it would be his own title, then his son would be possessing the same thoughts about his father.
"Gabriel will probably be happy to get out of Rome anyhow. Not much use keeping him cooped up inside." James added. Bringing forth a further look of disapproval from Miss Canvel that went unnoticed.
James looked around the maid. They were still unnoticed by both their own ambassadors and those from the Empire. Despite being one of the few present dressed for the military he had managed to blend into the larger mould of people. "Schedule Major Hanover to come to see me. After seven, I don't want anything interrupting dinner with Major General Zettour."
"Understood. Shall I arrange for your travel to Berun after the conference is over?"
"Do so. Get Curry up from Alexandrea, it could be useful to have him in play early. Thank you." The famous city had become the default capital of the Commonwealth in the Eastern hemisphere, a call back to an older time when the Invicta Pact stood true to its name. Whenever his mother was not in Ottawa she could be found attending to business in Egypt.
Canvel affirmed her master's bidding and received permission to take her leave. James granted such, assuming she would return to 'Her Majesty' before her entrance with the Germanic Emperor, officially starting the conference. It was mostly populated with civic officials and politicians. His preference for Generals attire made him stick out in this setting but served to distinguish himself from the white-collar staff beneath him. Unlike them, he had actually conquered land, not them.
He continued thinking proudly of himself.
'I'm one of those few keeping your cosy offices safe and don't forget about it. I have no use for the needless filibustering you warble love so much.'
He walked through the loose crowd for a moment, finding himself listening in on fractions of conversations. Anything useful or interesting to his personal taste would suffice. Then his eyes were caught by a tall lanky, yet familiar man.
The three Low Countries had been invited mostly as neutral voices not connected directly to the papacy or the war. Serving to reassure them they were valued voices and not being schemed against. Assigned along the third line of smaller tables in-between their neighbours. Letzenbourg and its black, red, and silver uniformed Crown Prince were among them.
"Ludwig." James had no need to play up the present happiness in his voice. It had been several years since their last meeting and he had no concerns over making the first impression. Hugging him might have been a step over the line for the event but who was there to stop him.
"How are you, my friend?" James pulled away and repeated the question at arm's length.
"I'm well, thank you." Ludwig had recovered from being startled by the Albion. "I can wager your own mood James."
"You may stab at it if you wish. It is hard not to be pleased with good company." They were still unnoticed by the light crowd of diplomats, but the low lander had undivided attention. Usually, that was the intended consequence, but this instance was from genuine interest rather than tactics.
"It has been…" James pondered, attempting to count before abandoning the notion. "Nine, ten years? Too many anyhow."
Both men were of a similar age in their early thirties. Their last time in each others company was when James played into his duties as an ambassador and attended the baptism of Letzenbourg's newest Prince. It was more of an unofficial vacation, but it gave the newspapers something to write about and the Unitary something to fret over. Only himself had a woman in the picture at the time. Meaning after the blessing, the two men spent the days searching Flanders and Wallonia for a female Ludwig could claim, the Albion more willing than his partner in crime. The memory naturally led to James next burning question.
"How's the family?"
"As well as circumstances allow. Father hasn't improved since your last letter."
James could sense the energy dip down, the degradation of one's father in front of them was an ideal version of hell. He prayed to die before growing frail and senile like the Grand Duke. He knew not to say it but saw the promotion to de facto head of state was a benefit to the situation.
"I'm sorry friend, truly." He patted Ludwig's shoulder as he let go of his hand. The emotion was a known one but to touch it in another felt inappropriate. A talk for another time. "And your brother, what is he now, ten?" James felt the life return as the fellow Prince smiled.
"Troublesome, we keep him to studying but he still wishes to be a mage someday. His governess keeps him out of trouble for the most part. How's yours?"
"Not ten, thank the Lord." Both men laughed. "Acts like it sometimes, enough there needs to be fixed before he becomes a man. Hell of a mage when he wants to be."
"I see it must run in the family." Ludwig boasted to James' thanks, the remark onto himself and his late father not missed.
"Congratulations on the bun in the oven by the way. You'll be in the club soon enough." Ludwig pleasantly accepted.
"When my wife arrives on a visit, we should dine together, the four of us."
"I see you're planning for the future as always." Ludwig inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Is the Commonwealth here to stay?"
"That's what we're here for, nay?"
"Ideally, but its who you Albions make friends of that get you into trouble. The Empire would not have gone this far if not for the war. A sceptical man would suspect a curse." James saw the intended humour in Ludwig.
"Curse or not, I assure you friend. If the worst ever comes, you and your family will have a place in Londinium."
"Bold as ever James."
Their pleasant tone shifted, emerging from the crowd was a second man in royal attire, one of distinctly Germanic design. James muttered out a final sentence loud enough for two before being joined by the third in the black and grey of Germania.
"Just like my brother."
The man in question gravitated towards the pair, beckoned as he grew closer. "Josef." James held out his hand for the Crown Prince who shook it without a changing expression. "How are you?"
"In good health." The taut voice barely rose but already contested his own. No effort had to be made to extract authority from a situation, Prince Josef seemed to already possess it. Ludwig exchanged brief pleasantries with his territorial neighbour while James pondered his next move, he was not unfamiliar with the trait, Her Majesty had the same uncanny ability, but always in wanting of ways to easily overcome the skill he lacked. It mattered little if the Imperial had the stronger attitude than his rival. James was not going to let this man direct their little opportunity for off the record conversation.
"I imagine the Emperor is not far behind." Josef appeared caught off-guard for the hint of a second, intrigued and simultaneously disappointed in the comment was of his father and not himself. It did not affect the response time.
"I saw him talking with your Queen, they were conversing with the Cardinal overseeing the meeting. Likely demanding they bring about heaven on earth or some such nonsense."
"Typical of the Clergy, nay?" James chuckled but only had Ludwig join in. Time to alter tactics. "It's good that they're getting along, heartwarming in a way. Not just for our states, our Houses could be of one sometime in the future."
Finally, he got a mildly positive reaction. Josef took his turn to speak without delay. "That might be true yes. Regina is a fine young woman; your brother does not know how lucky he is. She spoke very highly of him last night"
"Most men don't." James pretended not to notice the challenge.
Ludwig cut into trying to relieve the growing stiffness in the air created by the two gentlemen. "If she is not satisfied with the Lieutenant, she can wait until my brother is of age." Predictably, only one other crown prince saw the humour in the comment.
"That is the root of my issue if you don't mind my saying. A princess is worth more than just a Lieutenant of the Commonwealth."
"No, I do mind." James disagreed with the assessment but could not appear meek to an insult of the Commonwealth right before such an important conference. "I will not pretend my kin can do better but there is much pride to have for our own little empire as there is yours."
"Says the Prince who has lost his realm. These are changing times sir, will what is left remain yours for long?"
Better to be perceived as aggressive than passive.
"Let me be clear Josef." James took a step closer, ruffing his voice as the distance closed. Ludwig and other surrounding ministers were starting to take notice of the budding pair. "The Crown has no shortage of loyalists within the Commonwealth. From Anchorage to the Boston shipyards, our flag is uncontested. The same goes for every other member of the Commonwealth."
"Just like how your predecessors lost the original nine colonies. Such uncontested loyalty from the Unified States."
They were both silent, staring down the other without intent to back down. To have personal weakness would reflect on their respective realms. The Imperial was just older than James but both men were the roughly the same height, neither could bully the other on mere appearance and it was mutually known. Josef was the first to try and antagonise the other into striking first and becoming the public aggressor. Either and outcry or violence would suffice for the setting.
"Do you know why we founded the Central Powers General?" A rhetorical question still answered in a cold, calculated tone.
"Fear. You and the Ildoans were scared of something greater than yourselves."
James knew he was close to breaking and wrapping a hand around the weasel's throat, he had been on edge since last night and could not count on his rationale today. His best chance was to strike harder and try at anything to provoke a reaction. Josef continued undisturbed. Interrupting Ludwig awkwardly caught in the triangle arrangement of bodies.
"A defensive alliance against what you once were. Before you were evicted to your colonies and we grew our strength tenfold." Josef leaned in closer to deliver the killing blow. Just loud enough to emphasize the sentence to the Prince.
"Trust does not come easily, and old politics should not be so easily forgotten." Josef ribbed at James. "Don't trick yourself into believing we will make the same mistakes the Commonwealth did."
James felt a hand on his upper chest, a force pushing against his medals pinned to the tunic; it was Ludwig.
"Fine story Josef, you can be quite the orator." Josef had a hand pushing against him too
The thought of implanting his knuckles into the Imperials abdomen dissipated as their distance increased. Both men pushed apart by the neutral Letzenbourger. Sense returned in place of fleeting desires. The assembled onlookers breathed a collective sigh, their conference possibly saved by the Lowlander.
"I applaud reaching outside of one's usual genre, I've only heard stories like that on the radio."
There was silence as the tension lowered back down to acceptable levels. The period for assault had passed but neither party wanted to risk a return to it. A commotion near the door broke the quiet and allowed the world to resume moving.
"I believe that is our cue gentlemen. We should have our photo done after we're finished for the day." Josef let the proposal hang for James to peck at it, an offer accepted.
"We shall. Three future kings together, something for the papers to swan over." A symptom of the profits born from personal tragedy. Gains only had at the lose of a maternal figure.
The Imperial bid farewell, striding off the find his seat at the Empire's side of the room. Ludwig followed James away from the site of the conflict, the former first to speak. "You are aware my title will be Grand Duke, not King, right?" James could feel the previous resentment leaving him.
"Keep that talk up and I'll sic my governess on your wife. Neither of you will hear the end of baby preparations."
The announcer called out for the room's attention, awaiting to call upon the two heads of state. A shuffling of bodies followed, each alliance segregating themselves to their respective corner of the room. Ludwig lingered with James for a moment longer, the Prince disinterested with the lengthy introduction of Her Majesty that was ingrained into his memory. It would be unique to hear it repeated in every language present, but that novelty would be short-lived. He would probably be more interesting when it was his honours and deeds being announced to a crowd of supporting their new king.
"Ready to make history my friend?" James whispered to the man bumping into his shoulder.
"I control but a dot on the map. You should be asking yourself that question."
A final handshake and the Princes were off to their respective colours, Ludwig off to his seat at the "neutral" table. James would not admit it to the blonde today, but those countries were surrounded by war. Playing at the middle ground was only delaying the inevitable; what would happen when an aggressor neglected to recognize one's neutrality. The Commonwealth and Empire, the Invicta Alliance and Central Powers, they were the true defenders of peace.
Everyone stood upright, the translators were ready and working on the entrance of the Queen and Emperor. Now was the time to make history.
19/09/1924/ Rome, Kingdom of Ildoa / Saint Anne's Hotel, reserved section / 06:17
Tanya let her head rest against the desk for a moment. Groaning at the aching sensation that had bestowed itself upon her eyelids. The military career and old office job had conditioned her into early mornings, but the pain carried through each lifetime. There was the occasional day when she wanted nothing more than to return to the sheets of whatever counted as a bed and wait until the sun reached higher in the sky. Today, that bed was in a private pre-paid hotel room, but her profession disallowed the indulgence of such benefits. Her image of a hard worker among the battalion might suffer if she permitted herself to curl into a ball on the best bed she had experienced in years.
Usually, that desire was dependent on the quality of her slumber, an abundance of caffeine or the events of the previous day. The lingering frustration she still held left no question to the disruption of her sleep schedule.
After the Prince got his autograph they had returned to the group of multinational evil-doers; none who were not already aware of their scheme noticed their absence. Back just in time for an improvised group photo of the twenty-plus heads split with the Major, her adjutant, and the royal couple in the centre. Herself amusingly dominating the two teens and one barely adult with her chest barely above the metal fence. Thankfully, there was only enough time to do one photo, irrelevant to the results.
The girl had returned to the other side of the fence with Gabriel's prize and parted ways soon after the photo was done. Hopefully not to be seen for another year or more. That left her with only one uncooperative female second lieutenant in her life, one too many. Visha kept her tongue while the date continued, nothing more than walking around gardens with an occasional conversation of little importance. But once the Prince bid his old friend farewell and the purple guards returned the girl to her father. The promise of commitment to take another walk on the last day of the conference likely forced on Gabriel's lips. She rejected the ride back to the hotel, ready to scold Visha for her multiple transgressions that day.
If they were on a military base the initial punishment would be more physically toiling instead of being lectured on the walk back to the hotel. Their new unit was barely off the ground and she had to manage to embarrass it with her open mouth, in front of the Emperor's beloved daughter no less. She must have taken the hint and did not attempt to defend herself during the walk or the press-up session on their reserved floor. It had possibly been the largest stint of silence from her usually chatty assistant, not that she allowed her a moment to get a word in. After the work out sessions concluded she stayed in line, too exhausted to do anything other than comply. Still up early to bring her a morning coffee with no complains or aches or excuses.
If that policy could continue for tomorrows second date, Tanya might just be able to save some of her reputation as a Commander in front of her benefactors.
Now, if she could get an apology out of her or a wrinkle in time to turn back the clock that would be ideal. But if such power were at her access, she would rather go back to the life of a salaryman than one of babysitting temperamental royals.
Wherever Visha crawled back to after she had brought her coffee was a mystery to Tanya. She was allowed to neglect breakfast, the hotel's café let her skip the chef and waitress roles that came with the proximity to the Major. Given the hour, she had likely gone down to serve herself or crawled back under the covers. Ildoan food could solve the crisis of the uninteresting paperwork on her desk and the heavy eyelids in her skull. But returning to bed could remove the memories of the previous day for a little while longer.
She lifted her head as rumbling outside her room came and went, heavy footsteps from the owner disappearing into the distance. Probably someone in her battalion thinking more proactively than her. Tanya pushed herself away from the desk and rose to her feet. The sand in her eyes might cease if she fed the inner beast.
She had already dressed in her uniform before permitting Visha entry into her quarters; now one less step between herself and breakfast. She stepped foot into the hall, devoid of life or any cause for the ruckus. This was a military expedition, but she saw no issue in letting her men sleep in. Those who were out last night would need the lost hours. If her memory was correct, the herd had returned around the time she finished lecturing the stunned and silent Visha. The unadulterated chatter had emerged from the same stairwell she was heading towards that moment. Lieutenant Weiss had maintained his word unsurprisingly. If they were quiet enough not to disrupt the other patrons of the hotel then the accord would have carried on from the streets of Rome.
"Maybe I'll eat outside today." She muttered to herself. Yesterday she had dined on croissants and a cup of chocolate caffè d'orzo within the interior of the hotel; a carryover of practical paranoia from the Rhine and Norden. But Gabriel had spoken up the city immensely yesterday she could not pass the opportunity, moved by another's love for the past that bled into the present day. She could not take the full tourist experience because of lingering unread documents but that said little about the opportunities presented to her. Enjoy something other than Rome's food. She opened the door of the stairwell to be unintentionally and unfortunately surprised.
A figure's back jolted away from her and scuffled down the flight of stairs. Occupied muttering swears to herself not intended for an audience.
"Hold it."
The unknown figure stopped. Caught frozen several steps below Tanya on the landing. Sheepishly, the long black hair and khaki jacket relented. Tanya recognized the blight before her when it turned around, the thing taking an extra moment to remember how to salute a superior.
"Major Degurechaff." Her Germanic had improved, that was reassuring. Her hand snapping back down with the precision and order her uniform and hair lacked.
Normally Tanya would allow the ranks under her to return to a rest stance, but not this one. Not the mage who had a trigger pull on her life a year ago. Not until the rule-breaker explained herself. Logically, that would be the cause of action; once she remembered what her name was.
"Second Lieutenant. I assume Pepé a nickname of sorts."
"No, but Peggie is." She goaded, nodded in her newfound confidence. Tanya motioned for her to forfeit more information. "Full name: Frederique Pierre of the Siksika nation, I also answer to Peg. Peggie is a useful calling card of sorts."
"If you say so, Second Lieutenant Pierre."
Pierre shifted slightly as Tanya watched her from the top step, willing to let her stir. Awaiting a seemingly characteristic inappropriate comment to sail up to her. But she remained silent, possibly one of the sources of the apparent discomfort.
"How about you explain yourself Second Lieutenant."
"What do you mean Major?"
Tanya could not tell if it was a taunt or not. "What are you doing in the Empire's reserved section Second Lieutenant?"
Pierre rocked back on her boot heels before answering, extending the length to draw out an answer and test Tanya's patience.
"I'm on an assignment from His Highness Gabriel. House of Stuart." She snapped into another salute, nearly yelling with her echo reverberating around the confined stairwell. "His Highness wishes to extend his deepest gratitude to you and Lieutenant Ser-Serbyachov." She bowed down, outstretching her arms to the side. The position held for her stuttering of Visha's name then snapping back to attention. Her own confidence in the manoeuvre was matched by Tanya's bewilderment for it.
She expected some kind of message from the Prince, a letter or telephone call to round off their abrupt separation yesterday. She was not buying this, not a message delivered by an ill-dressed and ill-mannered mage. If this were an extension of yesterdays escapade she would not play to flattery as de Lugo had. If the Prince or his lackey were up to something, she wanted to know.
"His gratitude?" She fainted appeal. The Lieutenant smiling and nodding along, playing into her own downfall.
"Well then, I look forward to reading the letter you have for me."
Pierre's eyes shrunk into her sockets, the only part of her figure to react. "I was not given one." Her speech remained steady, if hesitant. A facade her face was betraying her for. "I am confident His Highness will send one along swiftly."
Tanya took a step closer to the edge of the step. Still towering over the Aquilonain at the lip of landing. To outright accuse espionage could backfire, especially if she accused the wrong figurehead. The Commonwealth would likely send a more prepared spy into the Empire's section, one that did not crack under pressure and could dress themselves. But she could be acting alone too; Gabriel was clever enough to think of a letter as a last resort, assuming he would have a reason to invade her floor in the first place.
"You're uncertain?" Tanya dared her. "If he will send one why are you here in the first place Second Lieutenant?"
"Personal touch. Gabriel is fickle with things like this."
Tanya glared at her. It was not her monarch being discredited but the continued rejection of the rules plagued by creature below her. "And you were running down the stairs, rather than coming up to deliver me His Highness'…grace."
"I rushed to get here but decided to fix myself before coming to you and Serbyachov." Pierre did not miss a beat. "That's why I am in the stairwell, Major."
She needlessly saluted again, a hint of a smirk crawling onto her lips, confident in her ruse as the pronunciation of Visha's surname. Tanya was still unconvinced. "How did you know what floor myself and Lieutenant Serebryakov were on?"
The smirk vanished. "Lucky guess."
Pierre broke her stare, waving her arms in front of her, trying to recapture the spoken words while stuttering out a new excuse. One snap from the Major had her back inattentive form once again. "I was informed of the floor by one of the mages yesterday afternoon."
"And how did you get access to the building?" Tanya would disregard the fantasy that any of her men would divulge classified information so easily.
"I snuck through a loading bay door, Gabriel prefers things done simply, less spectacularly ya know."
More lies, it was not an impossible pretence, but Tanya was not buying the story. Perhaps it was time to try another approach; for mild curiosity sake if nothing else.
"How familiar are you with Prince Gabriel Second Lieutenant?" If she kept falling back to her supposed friendship, it was best to see what the nature of it was. To finally settle the lingering inquiry of how a lower rank officer held the whip hand above that of a royal.
Pierre sucked on her teeth, pondering the answer, or stretching out her time to answer to irritate the little officer. Tanya found herself rapidly tapping her foot in a measurement of her diminishing patience.
"You mean to ask what I know about him or my relation to him?"
"Answer the question." Lieutenant Pierre muttered something under her breath in response, the action of someone the mental age of Tanya's physical age. "I beg you're pardon Second Lieutenant."
"It's probably best to start off with how Gabriel and I are just friends, for the sake of your Princess." She endured the Major's bite. Still at attention but her interest slipping. Glances away from the superior officer becoming more frequent, enticed by the superior's adherence to authority. "We met back in…back in training. Yeah, it was probably around then."
Peggie continued on.
"Mages are in high demand all over, some armies more desperate than others. I got the chance halfway through secondary school to jump into officers training and I took it. Everyone knew the war would come eventually, us lot with magical aptitude don't get that much say in it. All they needed was guardian's permission and a passing mark on a mock final and we were off to serve the Commonwealth. It was better than waiting until I was eighteen and becoming a conscript while we were in the middle of a war without any of the perks."
Tanya hated to admit the girl had a clever head on her shoulders. She just lacked the brains and ingenuity to get above the lowest of a commissioned officer.
"Anyways, I was sixteen or something and we get lumped into the same handful of lessons and training exercises. It was kinda fun at first, seeing a twelve- or thirteen-year-old at the time running around and tricking himself into being an adult." Pierre straightened her back slightly. "I'm sure it's a familiar concept Major."
She was right again. Not only had they both schemed the same plan but were witness to curriculum changing figures, Tanya differed from her by being the focal point rather than a mere onlooker.
"So, you took pity on him?" Pierre shrugged, her eyes wondering again. Each word drawled over as it passed out her mouth.
"Not purposefully if I did. He was pushed in by his family and the planned wars sure, but he wasn't clueless, not entirely at least, none of us were. The Invicta Alliance, or do you prefer Invicta Pact? It's interchangeable I guess. Whatever you wish to call us, they wanted to attack South Afrika and the Rumeli at the right time with Indy giving them enough trouble and Gabriel wanted to be in the fight. They pulled strings for him of course but they won't give him a free ride. They sort of train you for this kind of stuff in that family, or at least his governess did."
Tanya noted the roundabout way the Lieutenant took to not answer the question. Further prodding could result in a second attempt at a noncommittal answer. "That fails to answer the question of pity Second Lieutenant."
"We just stuck together, ran drills and flight exercises together. If I wasn't there, then someone else would fill in, whether they wanted to have a kid next to them or not." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before addressing a different matter. "I wish to impress that I don't mean anything bad regarding present company, Ma'am. It ain't natural; I'll say but I don't mean anything taunt by it."
A genuine impression or not, it was a shift away from the topics of pity and only loosely circled her relation to Prince Gabriel. If she was emboldened to be sloppy she could directly contest her hold over the royal, one evidently wasted if Pierre remained on the front lines dodging bullets instead of permanently gifted stays in luxurious hotels.
"Is that the full story? You and the Prince met in the military and now make plans to sneak around one of the most guarded locations on earth for an autograph?"
"Isn't that how you met your Adjutant Ma'am?" Pierre corrected her. She must have gotten a rundown of the battalion's history over drinks last night. If that was the case then she operated without the fear of disciplined reprisals that should be potent for her reputation.
"You may say that but he's leading half a unit after such little experience. I wasn't trusted with nearly half as many men when I first served on the Rhine."
"Well, they can't have a Prince attached it any old unit." Pierre mimed further actions with her hands, in tangent with her wandering eyes that went from wall to wall in no fixed pattern. "Then add in that they had us thoroughly trained and it's natural. The planes and mages were his ideas after all. He came up with it all back when he was l-…when was it? Before we met I think."
Her mild rant was interrupted by her own uncertainty, but she did make a fair point. The Commonwealth had meritocratic elements as did the Empire, but both were subject to bouts of hybrid nepotism.
"As it is, usually a second in command is a Captain at the very least."
"And as I said Major Degurechaff." Pierre answered, letting her malcontent slip further into the open. "We don't give out fancy titles for the sake of appearances. He had the training for a Lieutenant, as have I, and everyone else not hiding away on the Rhine."
The slight was low hanging, but Tanya would not fall for the ploy, she had more burning questions to pull out of this intruder.
There was a lingering silence that blanketed the stairwell, no more was this a quarrel among officers but rather a dispute of nations. Regardless of what the Aquilonain said of her person or the Empire, the rationale remained. There was an intruder into the sanctity of her domain, a facet of the Empire and by extension a responsibility for her to deal with. This was a matter of national security and her career, not her pride. The root of the matter was what the Lieutenant was doing here, everything else was secondary.
"Your opinion of my person is irrelevant to this situation Lieutenant." Tanya returned to her status of overlording the officer. Faintly saying the true intention while avoiding the pitfall of immaturity Pierre wanted to pull her down into.
'I don't care what you think of me. Why are you lurking around my territory?'
She started to repeat the same drawn-out fabricated pretence of acting on Gabriel's behalf. But was quickly cut off by an increasingly frustrated officer.
"Second Lieutenant, I am of half a mind to have you placed under arrest and bring you back to whatever hole the Commonwealth forgot to put the lid on. I'm confident our mutual friend can answer on your behalf."
Pierre bit at her lip again, this threat not an idle one to brush off. Tanya was unsure if the Lieutenant cared at all for her pet. From what she had seen the previous day, the act described would be of little internal conflict to the girl. So, this reaction must have been on behalf of the potential for diminished social standing of her puppet, indirectly hurting her position as his master. Tanya took a step down at faint action, breaking the will of her opponent. Pierre outstretched a hand, stepping back and unintentionally colliding with the wall. She sharply swore but quickly regained a semblance of composure.
"Fine! Gabriel, His Highness doesn't know I'm here."
Perfect, Pierre might not be telling the full version of the truth, but this was a good start. The Lieutenant started to fix her tie as a distraction to the aggressor continue to decent from the landing. One that picked each word with more care than any thought she had impulsively thrown into the conversation. Tanya did not want to abandon her rarely held an advantage in height and stopped just above Pierre's eye level. She would be willing to indulge her ego on occasion, she did not need the physique or the stature of the Salaryman to hold the room; her mind was a deadly enough weapon. It might have been this artificial high that led her to make a mistake, leading to a setback when she questioned who was the figure that sent her into this den.
"What?" The confusion was either genuine or the best act of that morning. "No one sent me here. I'm…I'm here on…what I guess is a social call."
Tanya was stunned. What on earth did that imply? This outcome was not predicted and in her failure, for preparation, she had lost the advantage. Now returning the blank stare onto the Lieutenant, neither found of the spoken words echoing through the air. There was the likelihood she had made new friends last night but why would she have to come to see them so early in the morning. Had they not known the day did not end until curfew, she would applaud the diligence on display if there was any sense to the situation.
Did Pierre replay the scene of wandering around with a book in hand looking for someone to sign it of her own accord?
Before there was an opportunity to timidly ask for clarification, the heavy beating of boots on the stairs. Tanya and her mysterious stranger were both stationary as the sound crept up towards them with each step heavier than the last. Following the sound came a smell, that of smelted wheat and melted butter intermixed that she initially desired. Pierre had an eye on the ascending person before Tanya, but her reaction gave away who was creeping up the stairs.
"You alright? You look like crap." Pierre asked Visha who fit the criteria of the crude description. A late night, early morning and vigorous exercise as punishment would achieve that result. The half-blood Imperial confirmed the hypothesis, reassuring her condition as each step was taken with more weight. Her voice wavering off as the out of place nature for the figure became apparent.
"May I ask who you…Major." Visha reached the same level of Pierre then realized the superior to both her and the creature of the new world holding herself against a wall. In each hand was a plate piled high of the pastries in question. Likely an act of kindness of delivering breakfast to her hungover brothers in arms; or it was for her to glutton herself with. Tanya noticed a smaller saucer of little biscuits wedged along Visha's inner elbow. Was it more impressive that she was still thinking of her abusive drill sergeant or that she was able to balance all the competing weights effortlessly?
Visha inquired to the wider context of the situation but the Aquilonain still had her flair for dramatics and lies. Pierre repeated her dramatic display of appraisal for Visha's duty as a guard. Taking another bow and extending the same thanks she gave onto the Major, but with an addition made exclusively for the waitress.
"On a personal note." She went to hold her hand but shifted to her shoulder, unoccupied with fresh food items. "Thank you for looking out for him."
The two seemed to have been apprised to information, Visha gave back a knowing nod, still apprehensive to this vague stranger that still neglected to define herself. "I figured someone had to prompt them into a conversation. I'm just glad the day turned out better than it could have."
Then began a quick back and forth about Visha's conduct with the boy they all knew.
Promises to repeat the protection ring around the boy. So that was the motivation for Visha's disobedience if the claims of Pierre were to be believed as accurate. An act of compassion to her superiors and not malice as initially assumed. Visha already entrusting complete faith in the intruder's version of events, asking, and receiving the answer that the apparent junior to both had a habit of discomfort manifesting in the form of silence.
Was it the social abilities of a toddler and nearly grown royalty to be on par, or that Gabriel was younger than Visha and she failed to notice until it was addressed in her presence? Why had she not realized this other angle? How could the Prince be both nervous and angry around Princess Adler? They were opposing emotions to maintain. One of these realities had to give way to the other.
Tanya was losing her grip on the situation, she needed to reassert herself back as the Major and not a passive observer to these two having an independent chit chat.
"Second Lieutenant." Both girls straightened up, Visha's plates still refusing to abide gravity and fall to the ground. "Not you Serebryakov." Visha returned to a stance of rest. Tanya repeated her interrogation, shifting to asking what the definition of "social call" was.
"I don't know how to…explain." Pierre shifted her gaze around the enclosed space, inevitably landing on Visha who shared on Tanya's confusion. That burden was liberated when Pierre whistled two high pitched notes, pulling on her tie to emphasise the musical tone. Whatever was relayed was a closed secret to women who were of a certain age and not firstborn to the body of a male.
"Think you should be the one to explain it?" The ill-dressed officer asked, and the bread girl answered. "I think I should."
"Atta girl." The encouragement needed no translation from its native tongue. Giving a pat on the back as she snuck to the other side of Visha with bread somehow acquired in the process. "Don't tell the Prince eh. I don't need him on my case over this."
Visha took an extended breath, hesitating to start as her deposit of bread slowly got whittled down. It was a slow start, but she gradually worked up the courage.
"You see, Major." She nervously bit her lip on the next sentence, in unintentional sync with Lieutenant Pierre shovelling another bread bun into her mouth. "Women, when they grow up to our age-me and the Lieutenant I mean-sometimes we get…urges that need to be…taken care of. And they need to be taken care of by a man, which is why the Lieutenant is here."
She continued to elude around name-calling but the ideals of sexual relations. Vaguely stating that the items for reproduction were indeed differences between the sexes; something that would probably surprise a standard eleven-year-old. The Salaryman had the birds and bees discussion, but the education had not aided Tanya in her observation skills or keeping her face from turning red. Her men were busy screwing the pride of her benefactor's companions. Out of all the available females in Rome, one of her mages had to lay claim to one of the Commonwealth. Maybe it was another play for Pierre to irritate her further, but that would imply she was clever enough to think that far ahead.
At least the odds of any romantic concern surrounding her and the Prince could be dismissed. The hormonal officer in question progressively descending the staircase until Visha could no longer distract her Major.
She had managed to weasel herself out of this situation and was now making a break for it. Tanya already had orders on her lips for the intruder to halt, followed by frantic work to descend the stairs as quickly as this body would allow. Negated by the head start of Lieutenant Pierre, adding to the progress the fully grown women could make down to the ground floor and out into the city where disappearing was assured. Tanya was ready to race herself to match her but was called back by Visha, her bidding abided by in that moment of a lapse in judgment made inevitable by continued frustration. Calls for return answered in a tone that was befitting the spy's persona before she disappeared from the building.
"Sorry, I can't hear ya, Ma'am."
Tanya was stationary, now looking up to Visha on the landing in a reversal of roles: the experienced one looking up to her inferior who knew more for once. The moment for further action had passed. To act the part of a child and give chase would only decrease her credibility to onlookers. The apparent truth was in the open due to Visha, further details now willingly able to be pried away with it
But first came to cost of responsibility. To admit to wrongs committed and atone for them, a task more important when the supposed offender never refuted inflicted punishments at the moment, now lost to her if Visha would ever have explained herself. Doubly, she had to save herself from the moniker of a mad tyrant. The battalion had to be under her control; if she relied too heavily on cruelty that progress might erode until her human shields turned against her. The term fragging came from such deliberate removals of unpopular leaders by disgruntled officers. She refused to answer to Being X on an account of friendly fire of all things.
"Visha." Tanya called her by the first name to hopefully indicate the sincerity in the regret. Climbing back up the stairs she took one of the plates off her Adjutant, now weighed with less grain on account of the Aquilonains sticky fingers. "I owe you an apology for assuming your negligence yesterday."
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[REDACTED] / [REDACTED] / [REDACTED] / [REDACTED]
With a steady hand, Robert Arcand signed away on another document slid onto the table. Placing it back into the folder and handing it off to the telegraphist who brought it into the [REDACTED] for him. In the beginning, protests were raised by the fellow leading members of the Party over allowing women into the conference room. But he insisted. She was both competent and loyal, the perfect combination. Etiquette was all fine and well, but that argument went both ways. If she was too feeble to enter their secluded sector of the [REDACTED] but competent enough to relay classified codes to and from their informants in the wider world, what truly did that make her.
The nature of the female species rendered them sophisticated to this form of secretarial work. He was an evolved enough egalitarian to believe one able to deliver papers into their meetings.
He thanked her as she left the men to their work, no doubt pleased she could be freed of the stuffy environment in what would be another long night. For himself, he loved it, there was nothing a late night of diligent work could do to render him unmotivated. After all, it was for [REDACTED]. It was his duty to do so.
[REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [...HELLO?] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REORDER?] [REDACTED].
If only his colleagues and friends had the same work ethic, he could not blame them for longing for bed as the hours crept on.
The leader of their private police – Herbert Hawkins – was close to nodding off for the night; his day well spent sending and receiving reports to field agents now rendered him to be subtly propped up by his elbow on the table. Now that the woman was out of earshot he continued speaking their curtailed topic of the day.
"If I may finish with the matter at hand." The room unanimously agreed, verbally or with a not and motion. The lanky man removed his hand from his moustache to hold up a paper on the table.
"Our sources from the Francois Republic have confirmed our suspicions. Concessions along the Rhine have shifted to Caribbean and Afrikan territories, along with a commitment to revive the treaty of Londinium regarding the Norden issue. As the aggressors, the Republic has been doing most of the walking back which could play into the Empire's hands. While likely unnecessary, I have advised further efforts of disruption for the conference's final day tomorrow."
Another member spoke up, Martin Burrage, the Chancery Chairman and Master of Horse to Arcand's Consulship. "How do you justify the risk of involving our units. The peace talks are bound to fail. I don't wish to imply doubt, but it still seems like an unnecessary hazard."
"We can't always play for safety Burrage." Robert scratched at his trimmed beard. "It's better to ensure we are right than to guess at it." He shifted slightly to address the wider attendees of the meeting, unnecessary but an act of respect among the members of [REDACTED].
"We cannot allow them to make a peace settlement. [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REFUSAL?] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]."
"We are of one mind Consul." Hawkins agreed from the opposite side of the table.
"Do not take my caution for disapproval." Burrage reaffirmed himself, talking directly to Arcand next to him, "We have little to no room for error in [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]."
"Correction, we have no room for error." Arcand addressed the room again, not intending to shame his second in command but remind his fellow gentlemen.
"Which is why I will have my men carry out their orders with expected discretion."
Arcand drew his attention to the other files the telegraphist brought for them. A natural transition to the next topic on the agenda for the meeting. He leaned back in his chair a bit more, a pen ready to make quick work on his notebook. This topic made his beard itch. It pained careful planning to have to walk blindly instead of calculating and organizing out a series of events to counter it.
"Hawkins, do we have any new word on the Commonwealth and Empire meeting today?"
"Nothing solid. We know it happened, as does the rest of Europa. Other than that." He threw up his hand signalling enough.
The initial report and subsequent files said as much. It was concerning for their position. If they could not get feedback from a conference that could tacitly be described as public, then the private meetings would never come to light. Whatever those reprobates schemed today would have to be left a mystery for the moment.
"As long as the war on the continent continues we should not have to fear invasion. They lack a landmass as a base of operations. The Invicta Pact won't be bold enough to launch an attack while the Republic and Entente are still fully operational."
"What about in the north?" Walter Spenceley spoke for the first time after an extended stretch of silence. Himself and the Foreign minister Samuel Weichardt had enjoyed their limited irrelevancy to the previous topic. Now the Chief Construction Minister found it fitting to add to the conversation. "If they simply try a landing or naval strike force from their Greenland territory they could pose a threat. Our ships are still not on par with the Royal navy in terms of quantity."
"If they bypass Iceland it will be to our benefit more so than if they were to attack that floating pillbox. We don't need to fight every battle away from the reach of airpower or coastal batteries." Burrage intervened on behalf of Arcand. "It will be a knife in their back. Beyond that, the barbarians will either be throwing themselves against the beaches of Caledonia or Iceland in vain."
"Have faith in your own defences Spenceley." Arcand reassured him, answering with assurance from the man that his heart is firmly in their camp. Better to cater to his insecurities than diminish his ego in front of the [REDACTED]. He could always talk with him later in private to take care of any issues in security.
"For now, it is best to focus on our policy with this new…alliance of sorts between the Empire and our old Masters. It will be great when this is over and I can go back to despising backwards human filth threatening our future without hearing their excuses regurgitated by authorities or the media telling me I should feel sorry for them."
The pen tapped against his paper for a moment before it found a new location against his hairy cheek. The room was awaiting, and he felt compelled to continue. He was the leader, there was an expectation of him to act like it.
"All politics of my lifetime have been about backwards people wedded to an inferior present trying to prevent a superior future." Robert let his head rest against his hand for a moment, removing it before speaking further. "I am so very, very tired of being denied a better world because of the small visions and smaller minds afflicting so much of humanity."
"All in due time Consul." Hawkins repeated his sentiments "All in due time."
A/N:
Special thanks again to Xanen for allowing the use of Prince Ludwig from his own Youjo Senki story on this site. It was admittedly more fun than it should have been to write him in my own work as a cameo. Depending on your perspective, fortunately, or unfortunately his appearance was in part practicality of the setting and a little bit of fun, meaning no larger cross over with the Saint of Letzenbourg is planned in this story.
It has been asked and I feel the need to clarify that there will be no romance for Tanya in this story. I find the concept of sexualizing minors repugnant and do not wish to partake or cast continued judgment on those who do want to read Tanya in a romantic setting. I'm sorry if that is a deal-breaker but I do not have any intention of giving false impressions to anyone or stringing them along.
It has been mentioned by my beta readers so I will clarify the ending. The [REDACTED] text is an attempt to maintain a loose flow while making it equally as jarring to read. It is better than edging around information that is common to the Unitary leaders but unknown to anyone but them. We are to peek at them from afar through a tear in the curtain, but we're not supposed to be eavesdropping.
Thank for feedback and good responses to this story. I hope the canon story events will pick up quicker now that more pieces are in play. I maintain the belief that fanfiction is supposed to add to the story rather than repeat the original for a second time. So now that we know the new stakes in play, it can pick up without being as slow to the pacing.
Thanks for reading.