The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter Six- The Fourth Dacian War I
21/09/1924/ Berun, Germanic Empire / General Staff Offices, Zettour's Office / 11:39
Rerugen pained for the situation of the Empire more than his own well being. They had an unenviable two-front war in the deadlock of trench warfare with more enemies abroad willing to pounce. The past year had proven the state was far from the imagined paper tiger, but how long the new status quo could last was debated at all ranks. From his perspective, the situation was stressed yet manageable, but the newest would re-evaluate those odds.
He had spent the morning in assistance to the General Staff to try and solve the most recent riddle. Their intelligence gathering networks and spies had collected all the information they could. Now, it was the job of some of the world's greatest minds to do the guesswork.
"If it is the Dutch, we could peel off extra forces from the Northern Army to reinforce the Ruhr without destabilizing the Western Front." Rudersdorf spoke out to the room, his eyes lingering on a rarely adjusting map of the western theatre laid out on his table.
They had all taken refuge in Zettour's spacious office, the Staff Officer in question picking at his own enlarged map of the warring fronts that hung from the far wall. The only others present were a skeleton crew of junior officers and clerks permitted to help sort through folders and hold down the carpet.
"It's possible." Zettour replied, facing away from the others in the room as he quietly focused on his own map. "The Dutch have a substantial military for their size and could push into our industrial region for a while. If they're reinforced by the Republic's army, they could very well hold the territory and cause a collapse on the Western Front."
Rerugen repeated what he read from a clipboard earlier in the hour. Read, while locked to the same chair that refused to release him. "The navy reports no large-scale vessels travelling from the Republic or the Dutch homeland. Unless they plan to attack us from the East Indies."
Rudersdorf muttered some conformation backing him, with his own thoughts added in. "Perhaps. So we're back to a country they have a border with since we're on the topic of Republican reinforcements."
"Unlikely." Zettour challenged his colleague, back still facing the room. "An attack from the Waldstätte Confederacy would be a stalemate in our favour and the lowland's geography cannot support mass troop movements, too many forests and hills. They would just extend the fight southward or up north into Wallonia.
Their scraps of information had pointed to the conclusion of an imminent surprise attack on the Empire. The nonaggression pact with the Federation still stood for the moment and they had exhausted the possibility of an abrupt uprising with Republican backing for the most part. The former independent Danish nation on the Jutland peninsula and Norden could be rallied against them. But with recent talks with the Invicta Pact there are possibilities that spies could manipulate them into a violent fifth column; if they convinced them their old King and his allies would do nothing but reaffirm their supposed subjugation.
The realities however pointed to an invasion by a new force entering into the Allied Powers. Rerugen mostly spent the morning hoping it was anyone but the Federation, any front other than the communists.
The office door rattled with knocking, lingering slightly after it had stolen every member's attention. Resulting in several seconds of silence over the room, some waiting for others to act and the rest merely perplexed at the unorthodox bid for entry.
"Stop waiting and get the damn thing already." Rudersdorf was the one to act and ordered one of the clerks into action.
The man complied and moved to follow the order, peeking his head into the gap before jumping back startled. The door spring open to two men, neither of them Imperials. One shorter than the giant next to him but more energetic, offsetting the daunting status of the figure that followed behind someone he technically outranked.
Rerugen found himself standing unconsciously, it was what was expected of him in the presence of royalty. Regardless of if it was his nations crown prince or not.
The first question to come to his mind was how he was supposed to address him if called upon, as General Stuart or Highness? The royal dress uniform hinted at the desire for the latter but that was not a definitive answer.
"Gentlemen," The Prince spoke out in fluent Germanic as if the rest of his reputation that followed him into this room remained to be seen. "I come bearing gifts."
The lesser officers watched the unfolding scene on the stage, involving the generals and by proxy himself.
"Your Highness." Zettour opened the communications. "You grace us with your presence."
"I have more than my presence to give sir." The moustached general gradually made his way to the only other man to outdo him regarding the upper lip. Bypassing the superior ranked Zettour who appeared indifferent to the snubbing, more interested in the beloved map.
There was an audacity in the action unseen before by Rerugen in all his years of service. While a minimal action, approaching a high-ranking officer in such a setting with disregard for etiquette was a serious offence. Intended or not, it was a perceivable insult to the Empire as much as it was to Rudersdorf's rank or Zettour being cut out entirely; not that the Prince seemed to care if he was at all aware. Against his wishes, Rerugen decided to make himself available to his commander and place himself beside him. He doubted Rudersdorf of all people would need emotional support, but he imagined himself to be there for practicality reasons if nothing else. Stuart placed his hand into the Imperials, still smirking but finally using an appropriate volume.
"It is a pleasure to meet you." General Rudersdorf played into the flattery but denied succumbing to it. The Empire had never been a formal enemy to the Commonwealth, but mistrust ran thicker than blood. Such emotion, not present when the Prince turned his attention onto Rerugen.
"And who might you be?"
He did that of a soldier and gave proper formalities upon the requesting of his name. The Albion outranked him, if just barely; but the social order of the Empire demanded respect be given in excess in these situations. A foreign Prince wandering into a secure military institution like a conquering warrior counted as such an occasion.
"Rerugen eh?" He confirmed, already determining the pecking order while leaning his palms onto the laminated wood between them. "You good with maps Lieutenant Colonel?"
He confirmed such, taking the opportunity to readjust his glasses. Such times required one to be an expert in cartography after all. Although, the notion any commissioned officer would know nothing of maps was equally as ludicrous as disregarding etiquette. Had he been assumed to be a lesser specimen within the Empire? The Prince received a folder handed to him by his fellow general who immediately returned to the peripherals.
"Then you might want the first crack at this."
General Stuart handed a brown folder thickened with papers and documents over the table. With a nod from Rudersdorf, he broke the seal with his thumb and lifting out its contents into the room. The precision in its display was astonishing, each minuscule corner crammed with as much information as possible with none of it appearing to be wasteful. His reaction was unintentionally evident as the Albion desired to comment in a positive tone.
"I'll pass along your approval to Her Majesty; she'll be pleased to know the Empire trusts our intelligence."
Rerugen could barely register the comment on his appearance before the momentum had already left the thought behind.
"All the evidence we have gathered regarding the surprise attack on your Empire. Including one smoking gun in the form of a Parisiian telegram requesting a direct assault on the 24th of this month to none other than Dacia."
"How can you know its genuine?" 'How do we know you're not lying to us' the true message of Rudersdorf's question. Stuart appeared surprised, taken aback for a second but no longer.
"Are we not friends General? What would possess you to doubt our capabilities."
No, he had started this meeting by striding through the room without care and talked to others in the same manner; they were far from friends. Either he was playing up his manufactured shock or was used to his word being taken at face value. Rerugen thought it would be prudent to replace 'or' with 'and.' The intentional snubbing of higher-ranking officials in preference for himself showed a game being played beyond standard politics. He continued.
"I'll be the first to admit mistakes are possible at all levels of the military, but these are suitable factors pointing to Dacia as our culprit."
"Our?"
"As I said. We are friends now. Or has General Zettour not told you about the news from the Vatican?"
Rudersdorf waved away the deflection, attempting to return some order to this conversation. The most relevant news for the General Staff was a pledge of military support. The Conference permitted a land army of up to two-hundred-thousand fighting men and any accompanying support that was allowed. A significant if small number for the military world but enough to change the tide if used appropriately. Naval and aerial elements were left vague and open to further interpretation on how they could benefit that tide. The public could not lose faith in the army, a small amount of fighting men could be written off, the small army they got was pushing scandal. The civilian portion of the government meanwhile agonized over costs and trade details but if their oil and rubber arrived on time, it was a problem for another time. The fine elements of this volunteer army remained ambiguous at the moment. A detail to be exploited by the side that exploited it to the greatest extent. The short-term benefit victory in the war would be hollow if they found themselves deeply indebted to the Commonwealth and their legions.
Rerugen shuddered for a moment, he was starting to sound like that little Devil. General Stuart meanwhile was attempting to steer the conversation back to his preferred tack. "We had one of our cleaners do their namesake among the property of one such member of the Lecret family. Truly, sir, I believe their involuntary donation to the Invicta Alliance will help greatly to the war effort."
He rolled on the name of the Frankish family, smiling and undoubtedly pleased with the feat they had pulled off. If the Commonwealth had managed to uncover plans with evidence of the Republic's best academics family, its validity could never be called into question.
Further prodding revealed little for the moment aside from their "situational luck." It was possible they had gotten their hands on a pre-encrypted version of a message. How else could they have gotten around the Republic's infamous codes?
He found the desired document, marked with a woman's handwriting at the header and handed it to his commander. "Genuine or not, the Empire is grateful for your efforts." Zettour had step away from his ignored position at the wall; refusing to be snubbed by the Albion any further. Rerugen wondered privately if they had already created bad blood down in Idola or if it was another element of His Highness imagined strategy.
Zettour and Stuart exchanged the formalities with no indication of fault. Rerugen doubted the man would forgo his calm nature for an intentional snubbing of rules and his face made no indication he was offended. The calm had allowed himself and Rudersdorf to continue breathing; there would be no squabbles before their eyes that day. The Empire and Commonwealth could continue to be happy and shake hands, if with tightened smiles and white knuckles.
"While honoured, I doubt the Commonwealth would send two of its best to act as couriers." Zettour spoke.
Rerugen nearly forgot the other visitor in their midst. Although, that feat could be seen as an accomplishment than a faux pas. The Aquilonain stood tall above the rest of the room. Pushing just above two meters vertically and attempted to fill the same space horizontally with his stomach. Another silent observation would notice the clean-shaven man had forgone the traditional facial hair that had taken root in Europa for centuries. Few made exceptions to this rule, even fewer were not ridiculed for their decision.
Usually, generals would not be among those expected to be complacent with being on the sidelines, less so if the man in question was allowing someone he outranked to leave him there.
"Supreme Commander Curry and I were just on a little tour of Berun is all." The beckoning had been the cue for the wide giant to from the safety of the irrelevant outer boundaries. "But since we're here," Stuart drifted between the Imperials on a trajectory to Zettour's map on the wall; the same destination Curry was striding towards. "We might as well settle that detail of the land we are owed, nay?"
The Commonwealth had negotiated for a section of the Rhine front to be ceded to them. Better to have that nebulas unknown factor have a single dominion separate from the Empire. That was the argument made anyway. Nominal independence never free from the Empire's watchful eye, lest they attract ire or plan their own defeat and open the door into the Empire for the Allies.
Rerugen heard grumbling from the other officers in the General Staff but saw the deal as a net positive. It freed up soldiers for the rest of the border aside from a nominal–partly symbolic–reserve of Germanic men to keep an eye on the Commonwealth. It had the double benefit of turning the Invicta Pact away from the Allies. When weighing all that one could, the cost of pride could be hanged until the war was won.
The two men shared muttered words are they huddled around the map, poking, and prodding the paper. They had to have entered the room with a plan, was this a final hammering of details with a visual aid or more showmanship. For a change, Curry seemed to lead the younger man around this time.
Rudersdorf spoke from his holdfast position. "You two look awfully familiar with that map."
"This side does seem to call back to past memories," Stuart honeyed his words over his shoulder, "But there is still time for us to always figure out what maps the Republic are using, wouldn't you say? I am rather curious if my Francoisian is up to snuff if do say so myself."
"That's a threat." Rudersdorf whispered to Zettour. The more calm-headed of the two dismissed it as a tool to provoke them; accidentally successful. Commander Curry spoke to the officers for the first time to respond to provide comment. The highest rank in the room and still respectful to the established protocol of manners, less interested in anything not involving business at hand with those not up to his rank.
"The war is still young gentlemen, there will be enough time to look at maps." Curry continued unopposed. "How about the north, we can take opposite the Lorraine region? A tactical strip of land for us while the Empire can maintain a coherent, uninterrupted defensive line to the south."
Stuart tapped on the point in question while Curry spoke his case to Rerugen and the generals. Zettour and Rudersdorf looked to each other, they did not have a choice in refusing the Commonwealth entirely, but this could be a deceptively better deal. Alongside the remaining Imperial forces, the concentration of men would be an extra defence for the industry in the Ruhr. If the Invicta Pact was willing to contend the front and the border with the Flemish and Letzenbourg it eliminated variables for the main army. They could use the dubious 'at peace' nature to turn gears with the neutral powers. Their diplomatic efforts had set up the mild failure that was the Vatican Conference after all.
It was a fair deal that benefited both parties greatly. It was too good a deal to take at face value.
Zettour and Rudersdorf moved closer together, Rerugen found himself involved in the decision making by the default of his proximity. They were in agreement with the benefits but equally as sceptical. To challenge them invited discontent onto already shaky relations, more importantly; the General Staff could lose out on a highly beneficial deal. The civilian sectors of the Supreme High Command would be up in arms.
The Invicta Alliance would have things there way.
Rerugen inexplicably found himself as the representative of the decision. "We will have to finalize it with the rest of the General Staff, but that proposal should be feasible." This earned a nod from Curry and a pleased response from Stuart. "Excellent."
He produced a pen and drew thick circles on the designated spot. The vandalism too quick to be contested and continued until a signature was added. Curry stood by either expectant or disinterested in the act of vanity if visibly disapproving of it. Stuart tapped on the paper, eagerly pleased with his penmanship. "Best to keep that," He tapped the map once again. "It'll be worth a lot more one day."
There was no reaction to the action, Zettour who had his piece of work violated failed to display an exaggerated display of annoyance. Rerugen seemed to read the atmosphere of the man, best to let the Prince play his games than to challenge him. Today was not the time to antagonize one of the members of their alliance; that time would come.
The pair had concluded their duties and lacked the reason for their presence, prepared to take their leave. General Curry bid farewell to the men he would be working with for a length of time and awaited his sovereign by the door. The Prince extended his pleasantries to shaking previously held hands, now including Zettour after being bypassed for Rerugen yet again.
"I look forward to finalizing those details with you all soon." He continued mafor both generals but kept most of his focus on Rerugen instead. "Despite our differences, I expect we can put them aside to benefit the general will of our two nations. Make war out there, not here."
"As you say, General," he attempted to play along with the philosophy of Rousseau. "We should settle the Dacian matter first before we try to settle ourselves." It was a potentially risky statement to make if he was not acting the part of an echo. The Albion holding onto his hand did not grip him harder, it softened rather, followed with a reward of a generous chuckle.
"You remind me of my sister sir, you both share the same excitement in the eyes and sense of cunning." He added another comment as he began to turn away for his overlord at the door. "Got the same floppy rats' nest on her head too."
Rerugen touched his hair as it was brought into question, but further comment or mockery would be denied. Any further discussion would be renewed with his fellow Imperials; all stewed into silence after the display of informal force from the Commonwealth. A modicum of sense returning when Zettour called for them all to return to work. Now with the focus shifted onto Dacia. Rerugen would likely have to visit their little Major ordering her redeployment; another painful experience to be tolerated with another officer with an ego.
25/09/1924/ Bucharest, Principality of Dacia / 2 KM above city limits / 01:31
Tanya allowed herself to be resentful of her battalion. She had given her evacuation order above the capital minutes ago, but they were still up in arms about the possibility to inflict damage on human resources. She had inflicted her own cruelty that day but had not to thirst for it. Her battalion was staffed by those who had the opposite mindset. Her men snickered and muttered now, ready to draw more blood, a concerning observation.
She allowed the flight gear to bob her up a little more, bringing her the level of Weiss and Visha beside her. She had learned to grow tolerant of this body's limitations, height chief among them.
She would allow the low talking to continue for a little longer. They could laugh and express themselves, better that than to not bottle it up and fire back on her. If they remembered who was always above them, that individual now floating at head level to them.
Weiss was remarking about Visha's actions hours before, checking the half Russy's spells improvement with the Major who echoed back conformation. It was good that she was moderately approachable. Although she would prefer that their trust relied solely on how she conducted herself as a leader and not the short stature and doll-like innocence 'gifted' to her.
Lieutenant Colonel von Rerugen had given her orders to report to the South East Garrison in person. Taking the time off inspecting the various battlefronts to inform her, hinting at the impending enemy attack. "It might be a good idea to learn to speak Dacian."
She saw it as an act of kindness, of respect and clemency. But upon reflection, he might just have been telling a small child to be careful along with a useful excuse for a few hours of respite away from train cars.
Then came sixty-thousand strong that fateful morning. Without aerial mages or aircraft all on unencrypted telegrams- she could not have asked Being X for a better birthday gift. The Perfect stomping ground to safely prime her so far untested mage unit. Guaranteed air superiority would see to that.
The coils of this world had to be broken; numbers alone could no longer dictate the outcome of the battle. Weiss and Visha had admitted to hesitation during the day on account of the enemy's size. She admired their humility to admit to their near-sightedness.
It was hard to blame them. Gunpowder had redefined warfare centuries ago and industrialization brought around a new teething period despite the plethora of examples the politics of this world provided. The Eastern War in Daqin had been a mixture of old school coalition doctrine and new innovations. The more recent struggle in Afrika and Asia Minor seeing improvements along with newfound mobility but nothing on par with that of the Rhine or Norden.
The Salaryman could call back to the Great War and Americas involvement once they decided to get off the backbench. General John Pershing had marched his soldiers into the field with civil war tactics, hubris trumping sound advice from the British and French. Repeating the same mistakes and learning the same lessons the Anglos spent four years refining.
Historians would have their work cut out criticizing the missed lessons and opportunities of this world on all sides. But it would not take the pains of the future to come until the critics of Dacia's would speak out. In another few minutes, those down in the capital would be among them.
"That's enough gentlemen."
She pulled the computation orb closer to her mouth and warmed her hand with the mana of the spell. Triggered to act by a round of passing laughter linked to the warning she gave. "Save it for when the time comes." She received an affirmation and let the issue drop for now.
The hum of their mage gear joined the stressed breathing that filled the battalion's airspace. It was nice. Locked in the motions of idle flying. Rhythmically up and down. All she had to do was wait out the clock and fly back home. The next few weeks would likely be spent in camps inching closer back to where the 203rd started this war. It would be nice to spend one night on a proper mattress.
For now, she had to close her eyes and listen to the humming of technology. The low-frequency signal of the Empire's finest tinkering, the rumbling of their equipment. It must have been the proximity that increased the volume along with her increased concentration. That must have been it. Visha vocal hesitation interrupted then refuted that notion with the reality that sought to ruin her night.
"Major." Tanya peaked an eye over to her Adjective. The humming had grown louder.
Visha began calling out coordinates and directions, putting her superior back into action. "Over the horizon. Eight hundred meters and descending."
"Any magical signatures?" She asked while pulling up her own observation spell. Struggling with what should be an effortless feat. The standard sign of foreign interference. The pains of panic began to spark inside her chest. Visha confirming the trouble in maintaining her existing spell and Weiss yelling to get a radio signal back to command. Forgoing the spell, she ordered binoculars to be used, equipping her own and pressing them onto her face.
The Dacians had no air or mage presence, their intelligence confirmed such. All the unencrypted radio messages must have been a ploy. Some elaborate scheme to encircle their unit at the cost of an entire vanguard army. That would have been a strategy beyond reasonable sense but how else could the Dacians get such a drop on them.
She did not need visual contact before sense was knocked back into her. It was the ease of their invasion that was throwing her off, resulting in paranoia. "Lieutenant Serebryakov, the targets are slowly coming down. Correct?"
"Yes, Major." She did not hesitate twice. Her voice did seem to be in a mixture of cautious and confused as her leader seemed uninterested in the potential threat.
"Should we ready for an attack?" Weiss inquired reaching for the holstered rifle, waved down by Tanya's hand.
"Stand down Lieutenant. It's not for us."
She did not need to look out from her eyeglasses to imagine the confusion on Weiss and everyone else in earshot. Now she had to tap back into the humanitarianism side of management, as much as she wanted to punish the pests interfering in their affairs. "Stand down! Unless you've given a reason for your drinking buddies to put some holes on you."
The orders circled around to the remainder of the battalion, letting her focus back on the coordinates Visha gave out. She circled in on the previously unidentified magical source, now aware of the opponents in play. A little over a year ago she looked up at the same sight. Had that all been a month before the Norden incident? Had the Commonwealth grown tired of their recent peace and redrawn their sword after a handful of weeks? That itself raised the question of how the Invicta Alliance got involved this quickly. Was this air raid even a legal act of war? If curious about that answer, she was not going to risk her person to go ask.
Tanya sighed; she was starting to grow tired of the exiles.
They had the nerve to fly into what should be considered their territory. It would be fitting if they could crash into the capital's industry to compensate for their interference. They did not know her battalion was there, perhaps they thought their plan would go without Imperial witnesses. If they ruined their raid, there would be hell to pay. She would wring the neck of that Prince if she had to.
The biplanes sharply descended towards the earth. Other 203rd members watching the spectacle with their own tools reacted with awe or the panic she once held. Tanya already knew the motions but did have to admit to a sense of tightening anxiety build within her chest. To be with a pilot or mage enacting the same manoeuvre of an Aichi dive bomber had to take immense skill and refinement. It was a good thing they were relatively speaking, on the same side as the Commonwealth.
The planes began to tilt back up and on cue for their cargo to jump in an apparent suicide. More of her men fell for their ploy, verbally calling for the Lord of all things and questioning the reality of what they just witnessed. Before she could reassure them it was all part of the show; the actors upon the stage were playing their role. The planes pulled up in time and took with them the ripping sounds of their engines to be replaced with the puttering of rifles take their place.
The reaction from her unit continued in the form of questioning the validity of what they knew to be true. Her reaction was one of less glamour, subsidised with building rage. The gunshots would alert the remainder of the city who disregarded the planes or her warning. Including the industrial centre. They had unintentionally had their cover blown by the Albions.
She had half a mind to cancel the warning and launch the attack that very moment, it might have been long enough for some variation of the rule. But if that had to be exercised, it would damage her image that she adhered to outdated rules. Could she be trusted as a leader if that were to happen? Surely that would fast-track her to a demoted position on the Rhine.
She had to remind herself to calm down, the last thing her battalion needed to see her as was a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. It was a wound of principle rather than practicality. Even if they started moving equipment and material that very instant the Dacians would still lose the most valuable machines along with the entire building. That equation failed to account for the human element of confusion of the situation and a minute of panic once they figured out another building was being attacked.
That brought her own inquiry, the Commonwealth planes had flown off without firing a shot, their mages were enough to handle the hostiles inside the enlarged building they scurried into.
"Lieutenant Serebryakov." Visha affirmed her, "What building did they just start attacking?"
She briefly looked over the notes and maps captured from the earlier Dacian forward camp. A mild commotion ensued as she timidly asked the other 203rd pack mules to search over the war spoils. Coming back with an answer for the Major. "The capital building Ma'am."
Returning to watching the structure she mulled over the answer. It was a worthy target, if odd. If they hoped to slaughter any opponents inside their casualties would be among armed guards, politicians, and lingering generals. It was hardly respectable, but the semblance of a through-line remained. At least she could say her rouse of a warning still worked.
The battalion remained stationary when their time expired and at her order, they readied to raze the production centre to the ground. Each passing second bringing her forefinger to tap the wood of her rifle in frustration.
The shots of the Commonwealth were no match for the might of Imperial spells. The resulting fireball lit up the nighttime, no thought needed to be spent in judging its survivability. From their height, the light warmth of the fire licked at her face and occupied her vision. Their Ultra-long distance sniping spell had proved the abilities of the 203rd, when focused together their ability to lay waste was unparalleled. If equally unremarkable; to be specialists in destruction was counterproductive.
Despite the increased amount of mana artificially bestowed on her, she could feel a new weight to her body in addition to that of existing exhaustion. Combined offensive spells of such magnitude were taxing on one's magical reserves. The results were worth the investment, what once was a series of structures dedicated to non-cost-effective war was reduced to a large contagion of fire. She would question in the morning if it was ironic justice. After her meat shields were settled in the night back in Germanic territory.
Her mortal men surrounding her chatted in shrikes or celebration. Permittable until they needed to opt-out. It would surely be a chatty flight back home. The improvised show was cut into by their radio operator trying to shout over the secondary explosions and adoring crowd. Her attention quickly called upon and provided. Sergeant Rinehart flew next to her when permitted, as expected of a dedicated- if thin-haired, beady-eyed soldier. "Major Degurechaff." He saluted in rapid succession with his wingman. Not weighed by the bulky metal box on his back. She was silently joyed she rose above the class of men to wear such overweight equipment.
"We picked up non-Dacian radio signals."
"Are you sure they're not from the Empire?"
"I wouldn't be here otherwise sir." He re-shifted the attention back onto herself. "I think it might be Albion ma'am."
"I guess that's not too surprising." Tanya added commentary as she was handed a headset to listen in. she was the Commanding officer and had supposed limited experience with the English language. Not entirely false but it was none of their business if she learned it in this life or another one. There was unmasked confusion blasted into her ears when the tool was worn. No solid upheaval implemented by a continuous back and forth of questioning that would gradually lead to her unit.
"What was that?" One voice would inquire. Two more would say an explosion, another claiming it was merely gunfire. A fifth would then join in having not heard anything out of the ordinary. Then a new party would repeat the original question on what that sound was. The language was all one, but the accents varied across the globe. Or to be more precise, the sections of the globe that pledged loyalty to the Commonwealth.
It was some solace that they had suffered because of her actions. Cursed to think that their mission was floundered and that they might have to retreat. Alternatively, they could imagine the primitive Dacians rushing into the capital building to tear them apart with a newfound explosive technology. Her cathartic joy had to be put aside however, these men were likely a better asset to exploit for her survival rather than to be toyed with for personal enjoyment.
Nothing broke the confusion until what turned into a who and the mass hysteria gave way to order. Apparently directed by one in a position of rank equal to hers. Rinehart did not need to inform her of an incoming open-ended transmission. He only needed to send her through at the request so she could remind the Albion how the laws of war worked.
Tanya followed the protocol, identifying her affiliation and rank while keeping the confidential information as such. Neglecting to use the exaggerated child's voice again, one of harsh anger was used instead. The soldiers in earshot must have suffered from confusion listening to her. Starting off as the familiar frustrated but clear authoritarian, then gradually switching to a standard dialogue with whoever was on the other end who was instantly able to stand toe to toe with the Major.
The allusive Major Hanover spoke into her headset, a thick Albion accent disguising his otherwise friendly speech. The characteristic calm of his nation embodied by his attention to the call as the lingering sound and scent of war provided to both. Her attempts to gain an in, to the spew of words sent beck out upon utterance, the legitimate claim of other work taking priority over a radio chat.
She was left with no time to protest or spew out the desired string of ethnic-based insults. Less time was afforded to adjust the proposal delivered onto her in force by the Albion, leaving with a "cheerio!" promoting to return to a woman who scared her men when she ripped off the headset, nearly throwing it towards the ground. Unwanted but willing to hide her anger behind a scowl, earned by the audacity of being told what to do by an Albion.
25/09/1924/ Outside Dacian Capital Bucharest, Principality of Dacia / Unoccupied grassy field / 01:51
The 203rd reached the designated patch of land. Even if they were here on peaceful intentions, she had to ensure the Empire was there first. For the sake of her reputation and informal bragging rights if nothing else. The Albion Major had asked for them "if you would be so inclined to a meeting."
They seemed to be a rush with their own raid, but the nerve of their treatment demanded an apology. It was their territory they were encroaching on, at least metaphorically. The coordinates were an open field out of reach from any half-hearted retaliation from the capital. She did not like getting closer to the Black Sea and further away from their own border, but the opportunity to argue against the location was not afforded. If the Albions wanted to meet she would reluctantly abide by their admittedly fair terms. If they wanted a fight-however unlikely- she would destroy them.
She doubted her honourable friend in their ranks would allow such treachery. But the recent information about his true actions in Idola might question if he could tolerate being the vocal minority. It was a small chance, but it was worth the preparation. If nothing else, she could show in the report that the 203rd was an always ready fighting force.
In that vein of thought, she ordered all wings apart from her own to disperse into the nearby woodlands behind their position to spring out at the drop of a hat and hopefully not to their commander's body. Even in the darkness of the early morning, she was still more exposed than what was preferable.
Time passed in the state of standing like fools in the middle of a field, broken by the second rumbling of plane engines sounded overhead. The callout from Visha on their movement was necessary for the near-total blindness. Better her to make a mana signal for the Albions to spot than herself, where else would the first volley of fire be located.
Over a year ago she had the chance to watch the Albion's play at an attempted suicide but today she had someone else playing guesswork with dots on a holographic screen. If there was a sun in the sky she could watch them perform that jump, depending on what Hanover had to say and if she could have her way; this could be her last time witness to the mages.
Only five persons presented themselves and immediately began breaking in the air to prevent their crashing. Tanya's instinct said to say something, but nothing came to mind that could alleviate what they were about to do. Once they were on the ground their mana signatures ceased, vaguely outlined by the moonlight they made their way towards her wing. At least they had the Albions outnumbered just in case.
Their planes flew onward and seemed to display no notion of turning around for their comrades in red. That very colour more visible as the line came into earshot, the centre man the presumed Major. The sore sight of that girl not found, already an improvement to the meeting. Lastly, her familiar regal Lieutenant following his shadow as expected; nothing had changed since the Dardanelles.
"I presume it was your lot who worked on the factory back there." The proper adult figure spoke out, he and his men continued walking closer. Her soldiers were at attention instead of the Albion's loosely held line of equal discipline. "I'd be more impressed if you hadn't scared the daylights out of my men."
"That's far enough." She owed nothing to these men. They came from a second-class power, had entered restricted airspace willingly, jeopardised her operation and now had the gall dictated terms for a meeting. "It is an act of clemency that I don't order you all placed in chains for violating an active war zone."
Hanover turned to his regal second, only able to pick out the words "sharpish this one…" from his muttered sentence. Better to take the public high ground and not react to blatant name-calling. For what it was worth, it was followed with a meagre apology for the disruption.
It was lacklustre but better than nothing.
They were a stone throw separating them. Now it was her turn to give and not follow orders. She saluted and the Wing followed, this was still a meeting of military officials and she knew how to represent the Empire. She ran through the standard technical aspects like before, introducing herself, affiliation, and unit a step behind her. All the harmless details she could recite and have to make their way back to their Queen.
The Albions relented and returned the gesture, neither immediately wiser what until the other served under or why they were here in Dacia, although that could be silently guessed at on account of the profession.
"You don't mind if I light this up do you?"
Hanover patted a pouch on his bandolier. Tanya never enjoyed smokers but if it hurried this meeting along she would reserve her complaints.
"Perfect." He undid a button and pulled out a gun, aiming it to the sky and pulling the trigger. She panicked for a second until her brain recognised it was a flair and not a ballistic weapon. She noted that Weiss had been at the ready for the possible discharge of a handgun; now she had a legitimate reason to criticize Visha for her actions.
In a tinted red the field and by consequence the mages were visible. Next time she would want more context to the Major's slippery language. "Right." Hanover placed the gun back into this kit. "Now that we can see, let's get down to business." Admittedly, it was pleasing to put a face to the steady voice.
The Major was respectably tall for an adult, populated with a moustache and aged features of a man in his mid-forties. Taking off his helmet and goggles to show straight blond hair, longer than the clipped version adorn by his second who was preoccupied providing then denying eye contact. Concluded with light blue orbs that looked down at a child, rather than an equal officer.
How much joy would she extract from watching them break before her? Even if stunned, the Major denied forfeiting his air of superiority. A status perhaps backed up with his reputation in the previous wars, but not that night under her jurisdiction. If she could not bend him to her will, then his usefulness as a resource was nullified,
"Hereby as the representative of the Empire, I demand you to explain the Commonwealth's involvement in an active warzone." If he seemed to look at her only as a child then it was her duty to shatter that notion. An aggressive posture to their involvement was the most logical course of action,
"Warzone?" Hanover's sarcasm roused amusement from his men in the calm. "Quite the menacing weeds we've wandered into." He resumed a serious notion once he had his fun; possibly cluing into the reality of his equal being a capable figure. "The Commonwealth has no official involvement in Dacia Major Degurechaff. The Invicta Alliance has provided aid to its members. I don't know if you have been briefed of the complete situation by your command."
Was his intent to stifle her in front of her own men or was he ignorant of his own subtle implications. He did not wait for an incentive to keep yapping on. "Hellas declared war on Dacia yesterday; something about land along the Black Sea." He chuffed remaining calm. "Balkan politicking, nothing that makes sense to spectators. Their land forces aren't much to write home about but the air force," He whistled, "I believe your generals will be happy they don't need to pull planes off the Rhine front for Dacia of all places. No doubt they'll be useful as you fight their armies."
"Actually," Tanya could not stop a wicked smile from forming, nor did she want to. "My men have already dispatched the Dacian vanguard this morning." Now she was happy for the flair, how else would Hanover see her battalion's superiority.
There were visible reactions among the Albions, Hanover looking to his second and exchanging words, Gabriel looking at her before formulating an answer, confirming its possibility. When speaking side by side, the Albion accent of Gabriel sounded shallower compared to the authentic demonstration of Hanover. Being raised across the sea would give the outcome of a diluted speech. Tanya's joy in upstaging them was put on hold as the conversation continued.
The second apology came and went with the same fanfare as the first, now regarding standing assumptions of her men that no longer stood. What would be preferable would be to have her men politely extract a proper apology out of him for her. Gabriel most likely would not give much of a fight and the remaining three could be put on the ground before a fatal shot was fired. Then the option of his mission details or internal organs being spilt could be levied. But, as satisfying for the moment it might make her feel, the consequences would be severe for the transgression; risking the alliance between the Invicta Pact and Central Powers to save temporary pride.
Long gone were the days she could point guns at Albions with no repercussions.
"I applaud the works of you and your men. You must make your country proud, all of you." Hanover said the last portion to her gathered troops, appearing genuine in his compliment.
"It does make for an unusual birthday gift, but I cannot refuse a present when I am given one. You can tell your Hellenic pilots to expect no organised countermeasures from us or Dacia."
"Not after your men did away with their industry." He looked over the line of red-tinted soldiers, apparently none the wiser. "Impressive for such a small number."
"That does lead me to my next question." It was treading a line of classified information. But if played right, she could extract an answer. Fortunately, the perfect prop had rooted its feet next to the Major "If you would be so kind, would you care to explain the purpose for attacking the capital building. The Emperor will be displeased if he has to learn his future son in law was involved in a massacre."
The accused shuffled but Hanover stood still, scratching his blonde moustache with a de-gloved finger. Making no display of hesitation over what he had to say, meaning he could have a point beyond dissuading notions of a slaughter.
"It's a scheme made up by the Hellenic officers, our unit was best fit for a snatch and grab operation. They had to pull some strings, but they managed to arrange a spontaneous late-night meeting for us. After that, it's just putting them in handcuffs and carrying them into our planes." He grinned again, commenting on how compliance usually increased once the politician was in the air. "It's hard to wage a war when there's no one in charge."
There was truth in Hanover's reasoning, but history had shown instances of braved if futile resistance movements made in power vacuums. It was a sound plan, if pre-emptive that no one would try to assert power for war and not an organized surrender.
How had that worked for her own Empire? They had accomplished the same feat in their last war, the action giving birth to the Republic they fought against today. After the arrest the of Francoisian King, the war was practically won, but the violence still lingered without a formal surrender from the enemy that now recognized no authority other than their own.
Dacia was a principality if, in name only, their ruling prince was left with nominal powers that never extended beyond his palace, the real power in the hands of a despot of rotating generals and officials elected by the upper classes. Capturing the Prime minister, scaring the economy minister and shooting a field marshal would do little to bring about an easy peace. They could exploit the confusion at the front but there was little that could be done to stop a dictatorship from filling the vacant spots. That was a problem they would have to tackle later, but the issue of possible Albion interference.
Major Hanover had already moved with the winds and decided to address that topic.
"What do you propose our next course of action should be? We are here for the same end goal, we could work together, for the time being."
Part of her wanted to decline the offer, but that would assume she had a word in greater politics. The Major had been in this business longer than she had, it was always wise to respect your elders in age and experience. So if he was trying to form a handshake agreement here, then there could possibly be a new order from Rerugen when she returned to base.
"I cannot make deals on behalf of the Imperial General Staff; however, I can suspect we'll have no orders to interfere in the orders of our Princesses' favourite Albion."
If Hanover was inclined to a lax attitude, it was best to mimic it. He had the confidence in this informal negotiation for the powers above to be predictable. It was nice to see faith derived from planning rather than available arms. Sliding in a compliment to her royal friend beneficial, especially after his recent confused romantic excursion and subsequently cancelled sequel. The Prince seeming accepting of the giggles of his countrymen, lowering his head to take on the remarks men often gave each other. It was some respite owed to her for having to deal with his hormonal friend.
With hands-on-hips, Hanover resumed the casual diplomacy. "Those final details will more than likely be out of our hands. But there's no reason for us to not come to terms of our own." He motions again to her small number. "I'm not sure if you'll need it but mutual assistance could go along way."
It was not the worst proposal she had heard. These were some of the best and most battle-hardened mages of the Commonwealth. She could call for them in the riskiest situations to minimise risk to her own human resources and extradite it onto another. Mutual victory and no risk to her reputation. It might limit the amount of experience she could drill into the 203rd but the Albions and their cheerful Major could be a better substitute. Maybe she could arrange for another training session with a new source to draw lessons from. But for that possibility, it might warrant the intervention of Being X.
If only she could have this opportunity on the Rhine Front when the real danger would come at her.
"I don't see why not. I can't think of a better birthday present than to see if the Commonwealth is worthy of all that hot air."
"I like the way you think Degurechaff." Hanover stepped forward with an outstretched hand. Further authoritative opposition would only alienate this potential ally. Instead of waving him off she met him halfway and offered her own hand. Hanover still looked to see a child but that had already started to change. It was better if he saw her as a lucky kid in a way, it could excuse her bestowing the deadly jobs onto the Albions and their fancy planes.
25/09/1924/ Outside Dacian Capital Bucharest, Principality of Dacia / Unoccupied grassy field / 02:09
Gabriel had counted six minutes pass since the Imperials had flown off into the night. The Major's flair had begun to fade, and the field was returning to the opaque darkness. Any longer and they should light another for a safe takeoff. But if they were to return to the skies when it was dark enough, then anytime now would be dark enough to conceal their numbers. He turned back around from looking at the sky to waddle through the increasingly tall grass.
A vibration from his orb went off against his chest, drawing in enough mana he had completed the necessary input for the voice of Major Hanover to ring out around him after confirming his presence.
"Rupert, Mr. Rushworth is asking if they're all gone. What do you say about that?"
He was not expecting to be called on but still answered. Major Hanover had a habit of asking these types of questions since they first met back in Aquilona, why he was trusted before any other officer was unknown to him. "The Major's group most definitely left. Anyone they have in the trees could be waiting for us to leave first."
"Or, the Major had them pull out on foot and act as a rearguard. Couldn't they Mr. Stuart."
Gabriel pulled on a patch of grass to relinquish its clutches on his gun. "Yes, Major. Hanover, they could sir. My apologise, sir."
"Think Rupert. There's always more than one option."
Gabriel echoed the sentiment before the line went idle again, he let the warmed skin fade away. Another few meters through the grass in darkness and he was as close as he could guess. "You can come out Peggie."
A metal rifle bolt to the far-right cocked back and forth, signalling her location among the camouflage. Moments later, an arm holding a rifle appeared from the vegetation. Previously invisible, the girl emerged still draped in a khaki wrap around her upper body, face, and scoped rifle. For a quick do up, it managed to conceal her near perfectly.
"Thanks for the line, sir." Peggie tapped the location of Gabriel's orb, the secret recording device for their meeting. He disliked deceiving those who were supposed to be allies. He trusted Peggie's shot but despised the notion of needing a sniper for good faith negotiations.
"I can feel your crosshair on my back Peggie."
"Afraid that I'll shot you?" They started walking back to regroup with their unit. The four near lost in the darkness overcoming the red fire.
"I'm afraid you'll come to your senses and finally put me out of my misery."
"And have your Governess come after me?" She laughed, quickly devolving into a mumble as the sentence ran on. "No thanks. It'll be her or Major Sulla if she learns I had another opportunity to shot her."
Sulla, the first general to march on Rome and who arguably saved the republic. No greater friend, no greater enemy. Much like that old Roman, Gabriel was pleased he could currently put the little girl in the category of the former. And a great way to maintain said friendships was to acknowledge worthy achievements and milestones in life.
"Perhaps I should put a bow on you and hand you over," Gabriel took on Peggie's rifle as she handed it off while she unwrapped herself of coloured cloth. "I need to think of a gift to get her."
A/N:
First, some housekeeping notes to get out of the way. The two-three week goal is still trying to be maintained if becoming increasingly unadhered to. I prefer longer chapters of approximately ten-hundred words or more, I'm resistant to changing it to a smaller amount but if I hear convincing feedback I will yield to good sense; but for now, I hope to maintain the loose schedule.
Regarding the chapter, due to literally none of my beta readers picking up on it, I wish to clarify that Commander Curry is based upon the Canadian General Arthur Currie. Youjo Senki has a habit of creating characters that differ by a-few letters (Churbull is a good example). While I mildly dislike the practice, I find it both amusing and fitting. If this appears obvious to some of you readers, I recommend we respectfully blame Xanen since he has persisted the image of Tim Curry into the role of Supreme Commander and I want to prevent that from spreading unintentionally.
Regarding future chapters, I received feedback that the beginning was largely slowly paced. The plan and hope are that Dacia and beyond will remedy that issue since the set up is largely done. If this is or is not the case I am open to all forms of feedback and criticism.
In the near future and possibly in the same stretch of time. I and Xanen will introduce another character that shares the same name. While we might have some fun with the coincidence, it is just that, a coincidence. I say this since I am a bit paranoid of appearing like I intentionally copy from other sources or that we are about to do a hybrid story. Although, it could be argued we are doing a hybrid world but that is a bit beside the point.