The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter Seventeen- Sins Against His Own Body
14/11/1924 / Skagerrak Straits, 180 KM from Oslo, Entente Alliance / HMS Titus, Flight deck / 06:55
First Lieutenant Gabriel Stuart watched the Wendigo planes line on the flight deck as the morning sun cast rays upon the ship and her escorts. His left arm remained wrapped in a sling and under his coat, the sleeve tucked into a pocket to prevent wind from leaking in. Despite the precautions, he felt his upper body freeze in the early winter temperatures as winds nipped against his face. The worst pain outside of the left arm was in his feet. Each gave sharp spikes in the issued officer's leather boots that offered less protection than expected. Standing in place on a metal floor neglected to help the matter.
Gabriel knew that was his problem, he could only stand here underneath the aircraft carrier's island and pray for his unit. Until his arm had fully healed he was forbidden from joining them.
He tried to find the positive aspect but found it would risk sin. To retreat inside and return to sleep would be selfish. The least he could do was suffer until normal responsibilities would resume.
Another plane took off from the deck, bombs fixed, and crew prepared, it climbed upward to join the others circled the carrier escort. The next one moved into position and started the take-off process.
The Commonwealth would commit twenty-one active planes for the mission, two temporarily grounded, the other indefinitely. Gabriel looked down at his boots for a moment, forcing the emotion to pass. He had to see off his men, now was not the time to contemplate their mortality or the enormous risk they underwent for every mission.
He could mourn when they all entered Londinium as liberators. He had already spent enough time forgetting the events of that day in Bucharest, there was no more energy to waste. Until then, he would have to put on a brave face as Miss Ketchener taught him to show respect and see his unit off.
The Imperial General Staff had approved of an aerial strike against the Entente Alliance for a speculated preliminary strike for a winter offensive. There was no official plan to his knowledge, just the positioning of units and refurbished supply depots to imply one. Military strategy was never Gabriel's speciality, which hopefully made his assessment of the operation's futile appearance merely ill judgment. Like how Her Majesty told him to remain silent about the Invicta Alliance's interests in Scandinavia; he was to keep quiet when speaking lest he invites consequences he could not understand. There had to be a critical detail not revealed to him.
Gabriel knew there was a reason the Roman Emperor Heraclius avoided campaigning against the Sassanids during the winter. The First Crusader only risked it when his sword was against Khosrow II's neck. It only took nearly three decades for that circumstance to happen.
For today, it would just be a standard attack on an enemy supply and rail hub; a method of undermining an opponent as old as war itself. Gabriel still preferred the tried and tested strategy to destabilise an army by forcibly removing government officials. However, he knew his place and kept silent. The simplicity meant the mission was relatively safe. If he had to be a coward he should do so when the risk was low, so the danger was not delegated to his subordinates.
Something patted him on the back, unintentionally pushing him forward and out of his internal thoughts.
"The captain didn't tell me we had a stowaway."
Gabriel knew who it was before he turned to face his assailant. The Caledonian accent was instantly recognizable no matter how many years passed.
Gabriel turned to greet his older sister; Rachel's black bob cut moving in tandem with the wind. All this time and she barely changed apart from cutting her hair. He accepted the hug Rachel quickly enveloped him in. The sea captain was mindful of his injured arm.
"It's good to see you." Rachel spoke as she let Gabriel out of her embrace. He repeated the genuine sentiment conveyed. Her presence on board was unknown to him, explained away by the oil caught under her fingernails from her time spent in the engine room. He questioned if it was proper for naval captains to repair engines themselves.
"If I want a job done right I'll do it myself. I think I have spent more time looking at the Empire's engines and armaments than talking to anyone in the General Staff." Rachel pinched Gabriel's chin to move his head to her will. "Now, let me look at you." He would have resisted if it would end in anything other than Rachel's victory. She moved his head to observe any changes that had occurred in the prolonged absence. "You're a man now; look like one at least." She concluded her observation with another pat on the back. Gabriel was occupied with deciphering the veiled criticism in the comment. "It's good to see James took care of you."
It was a statement that gave Gabriel no ability to respond, hence he resorted to the often-preferred silence. Rachel neglected to pursue her comment and started to ramble about the previous years of the Commonwealth and her career. It prevented the opportunity for free thought or the chance to ask if she read Miss Serebryakov's letter.
"Where is that Pierre girl? I don't think I've seen you apart from her before since you two first met as kids." Gabriel knew her sentiment was true if he privately wanted to point Rachel had not spent time with him long before he met Peggie on that faithful day.
"Peggie is travelling to the Norden region by train. She has been put on medical leave until she has recovered from her injuries received on the Rhine."
"Did you fall in love with her yet?" The lilt in her voice was unmistakable.
"Despite your encouragements, we remain mere friends. Such a hypothetical relationship would conflict with my prior engagements with Princess Regina."
"And how is that particular Imperial? The cute little thing." Rachel continued to gaze upon the carrier deck while listing off questions Gabriel was reluctant to answer.
"I believe she hates me."
"Why is that?" Rachel giggled at his abrupt declaration of romantic failure.
"I insinuated she-" Rachel started to giggle, the implication she mysteriously understood the problem before Gabriel could mount his legal defence. Rachel's hand reappeared on Gabriel, this time his shoulder belonging to the uninjured arm.
"Girls are as stubborn as sin. She will come around, try not to worry Gabe. You'll make Peggie or Regina or whoever a very happy girl."
"It feels like the individuals around me have more investment in my relationships than myself or her Highness."
Rachel shrugged; her positive mood maintained. A struggle was persistent as formed sentences were drawn out and uninspired. It was evident she had a minimal investment in her position. "It is of our blood Gabriel. It's just how it is. We don't always get what we want from love, but we can get what we need from that other person. M-most of the time."
"You say that but James and Leah have married people they love. If you do not object to my question, why are you the only one not being pressured into a relationship?" It felt wrong to cross-examine his family, but it temporarily was the best path to a coherent answer.
Rachel froze, gradually shaking her head and shifting in place. Her answer was evident and not one she appeared willing to divulge. Gabriel resigned himself to apologise. Ready to dispose of the topic despite Rachel's final word on the topic.
"Just, don't trust your instincts when you think you like someone. Make sure they're a decent person. Regina seems to be that sort."
The final plane took off from the runway, carrying off the hum of engines to the skies above Norden. Gabriel made the sign of the cross for a silent prayer. Rachel joined in the action and took his hand into hers. He tried to release himself to no effect as Rachel muttered holy words in Albion. Consequently, disrupting his silent Latin rendition of the same prayer.
He trusted their abilities and the Lord's mercy to see them through the day. That failed to diminish the neglect he felt by staying behind. They would be with Major Degurechaff, and her cohort of trained men would be with them. Together they should all pull through without any casualties.
Gabriel pulled his functional hand back to finish his prayer. Rachel was quick to fill in for the wind.
"Anyways. I wanted to speak with the captain. Do you want to come with me? It would be nice to catch up a bit more. They'll probably be the odd camera around so we can give Mother something to enjoy."
Gabriel was hesitant to accept. To scurry back to his quarters felt more fulfilling, away from the horror that was the camera. It would allow him to go back to sleep and grant privacy from the dreaded fact he was useless to the camera and required his sister to legitimize his image. What would one more nagging nightmare about what he did could be tolerated with a nip of rum or wine? It was not proper, however. Why should he relax while his unit risked death? To suffer without them would be the most appropriate way to accommodate for his failures. Besides, it might be nice to spend some time with Rachel.
"If you believe it will make Mother happy. Then I will participate."
14/11/1924 / Stockholm, Legadonia Entente Alliance/ Farmers Market / 07:23
Mary Sue was so overjoyed she could sing. Papa was home, and they could forget about the war for the next few days. Mama said he would be there at noon, perfect timing for a celebratory lunch. The rare occasion enticed her to volunteer to help in every possible way. That was why she agreed to pick up some last-minute necessities for Mama, armed with a basket, adequate money and the family's ration cards.
Mary thanked and tipped her hat to the woman in the stall for the sugar and eggs. Snugly tucking the items into her basket before moving on through the market. It was crowded despite, or because of, the ongoing war. It was mostly full of fellow youths, women or the elderly going about their shopping. There were groups of the rarely seen military-aged men from what Papa told her was leave, a miniature vacation as he described it. Most of them stuck to their groups of comrades buying alcohol and other luxury items.
Mary peeked at that stall when she came into the market, tempted by the allure of items forbidden to her. It would cost her monthly allowance and her pay from babysitting for a small bottle of that brown stuff. It must have been worth it if the soldiers were willing to hand over small sacks of coins for a litre bottle.
She clutched the basket close to her chest as she drove back into the crowd. Apologies squeaked along with requests for passage through the wall of people. Her miniature size increased the challenge, the lengthening lines of hungry patrons the further made navigation impossible. The heightened sense of want increased the resolve of her countrymen to acquire their groceries at the expense of increased shoving or refusing to move, lest they miss the chance to acquire their desired items. Ration cards and currency could do nothing if there was no bread or lard there to be bought.
That was why Mama sent her out at the first hint of sunlight. It was all because of the war, not because these people were mean, that is what Mama and Papa always said. The last time Papa was home he had a long and occasionally loud conversation with Mama about it once she went to bed. Stuff regarding trade, blockade runners and confiscations by the government; nothing she fully understood but worth spying on Papa.
It all meant things would go back to normal when the war was over. Then everyone would be polite and happy, they would not shove or ignore her plight of "excuse me." Such as an unintentional elbow that swung in from behind and sent her plummeting off her feet.
Instead of hitting the ground, she was caught by one of the passers-by, grabbed by the shoulders and chest to yield her back onto a stable footing. One of her saviour's hands remained on her chest just above her basket, possibly to make sure she would remain standing and not fall in the opposite direction. Mary kept her arms around her basket in a desperate attempt to protect her purchased goods. Her hat was refixed to her head by the man that held himself close to her.
"You need to be more careful little Miss."
Mary looked up at her saviour, one of the soldiers she saw buying the alcohol smirked at her.
"Thank you, sir."
"You gotta be careful girl." Another soldier informed her, he leered from behind the first soldier. A third man Mary failed to see pressed in from behind, the smell of strong liquor and tobacco smoke. Now that she focused her nose, that combined aroma enveloped her from each man. While not a pleasant odour, she was happy they were enjoying their free time how they preferred.
"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much." Mary tried to step away but came into contact with the third man, a muttered apology provided as he smoked.
"Hey, hey. Careful there girl." The first man pulled her back and started directing her away, his pair of friends following. Mary found herself secured under the first man's arm as the first and second man chatted amongst themselves on her behalf.
"You're not looking too well."
"Kinda pale, ain'tcha?"
"Excuse us."
"I don't think the crowd is doing you any good girl."
"Let's get you some air."
Their voices intermixed at informing her and splitting the crowd. This was not a perfect circumstance, but these men were sparing their kindness to get her out of the crowd with her groceries. The only problem she felt was the close proximity these men had. The first man still held himself close to her chest, but it must have been a symptom of the crowd. Papa was a soldier so these men surely must have been trustworthy. They were nicer than the rest of the people had been to her.
Quickly they were all freed from the mass of human bodies, only then did the soldiers grant Mary some personal space. The first man lingered closest with a constant smirk as he spoke again.
"There you are, safe and sound."
Mary thanked each man individually for their efforts. Their small group was ignored by the largely coming and rarely going crowd of people as the conversation evolved.
"What'd you got in there?" The man smoking a fag uttered his first full words while pointing at her shopping.
Mary looked down at her basket, remembering its weight in her hands. "My Papa is coming home today." Mary then detailed her shopping list and the planned dishes to the mild disinterest of her saviours. Mary assumed they were hungered by the mention of tasty food.
"Another lucky grunt, just like the rest of us." The first man chuckled to the amusement of his fellow soldiers.
"Actually-" Mary wanted to correct them and say how Papa was an officer, a newly promoted colonel according to his most recent letter.
"How much did that all cost you?" The second man poked at the wicker basket. Mary tried to pull it away only to get caught on the smoking soldier again. Her answer made all three of them groan.
"Inflation is killing us more than the Imperials."
"I'll be had, you got robbed, girl."
"It's not that bad. My Mama has-" Mary was cut off again.
"Why don't we help you out then?" The first man pulled her back into his side, tighter this time. His other hand flashed two fag packages in front of her.
"These'll be worth more than any coin girl. In three months, you can have three baskets filled with only one pack. What'd you say?"
Mama did not talk greatly about their finances, but she wanted to help however she could. If these men were right then these might be necessary. If it would help her family then she had to do it; what that "it" was just had to be clarified.
These men were soldiers like Papa, which meant they could be trusted.
"I of course want to help you." Mary nodded her head, sharing in the smiles of the three men around her.
She was guided away from the entrance of the marketplace, with more soldiers in grey or black uniforms and civilians walking past to try and squeeze in for their rationed goods. They soon were all in an alleyway, her new friends wanted to press on to a more secluded area, but Mary wanted to understand what they would be doing.
"No sense in lying about it. Finding a girl in the market was your idea anyway; you just owe me a pack for standing guard." The third man lit another fag and stared at his friends, forcing them to elaborate on this alleged trade deal.
Mary felt her heart drop into her stomach when they explained what they expected of her. The situation was not what she envisioned, a primitive instinct within knew they would do worse than what they ascribed. The smoking one continued his practice in silence but was otherwise content to let the events play out. Mary was left alone with her back to the ally wall. Could she scream? They would probably silence her and carry her away to do what they wanted with her. Then what would they do to a troublemaker?
"I don't think I want to do that."
The first man that prevented her from falling put his hand back on her, uninvited and coupled with a toothy grin that took on a malice character.
"I thought you wanted this girl. Don't you want to help your army?"
He had pinned her against the wall with icy fingers digging into her flesh. Mary tried to scream for anyone, anything that could change this situation. Her voice gave out and no sound was distinguishable from her laboured breathing. Mary failed to utter out for Papa to come and rescue her from the situation.
"Oi!" A new voice shouted out and stole the attention of all parties. Mary looked over to the entrance of the alleyway. A man stood in the space with his fists clenched. He must have been another soldier; his uniform was black and well fitted without conspiring it to the lax standards of Mary's countrymen.
The man appeared older than anyone else present, his face wrinkled, and hair thinning out on top. All details were noticed after the burning anger than was affixed to the man's rough skin. The face contorted beyond what Mary thought was possible, more vindictive than anything Mama or Papa had ever produced. His eyes were above her and locked onto the men that proposed their unwanted exchange.
"What do you want old man?" The first man finally took his hand off her chest
The man remained silent; his eyes spoke for him to convey the unregulated hatred at the soldiers.
"This isn't the Unitary, what say does the Benefarcies have here?"
The man pulled out a revolver and shot into the air. The warning forced her captor to stumble backwards in shock. When he did not put his hands up or submit in any visible way, another bullet found the first man's head. The sound, blood, and act of killing barely seemed to impact his frustrated expression. The head snapped back violently to then fall onto the ground. Half of its contents were plastered backwards along the alleyway, the rest pooled out as the body spasmed on the ground. Mary felt warm spots appear on her face as the man fell. The other soldiers were momentarily stunned in tandem with their hostage.
Mary only heard the ringing in her ears caused by the gunshot. The mouths of the remaining two men were active but unable to dissuade the anger of the fourth individual. The gun remained levelled. Now was an opportunity for escape but there was no feeling in her legs, she could not move her arms to defend herself.
The second man that reeked of alcohol and smoke was the one to take the desperate initiative. He reached for a sidearm from within his coat, the weapon was produced but its user was hit with a bullet in the chest. Unheard cries emitted from his mouth, the look on his face made Mary sink to the ground in a crouched position. Despite the wounds he tried to escape, two more spouts of blood came from his back, and he fell.
The man in black walked past herself and the cowering man to shoot the injured man once in the head. Mary's hearing gradually returned in time to hear the bullet that ended the man's life.
The man in black did not hesitate to turn back and stride to the final survivor. He pleaded his innocence, stuttering his role would not ever touch her or any other woman. The man in black holstered his gun but did not bend to mercy. He struck the man with his fist and shouted louder than any gunshot Mary had heard.
"You think that makes you better?" It was a gruff voice lined with authority that matched the demeanour of its owner.
He hit the whimpering man again and climbed on top of him to continue the beating until he went limp. The man still clung to life, if by a thread. The assailant's hand gripped his head, seconds later, a searing sound accompanied by smoke started to emit.
The man in black was a mage? Just like Papa! There was no other explanation, even if it was the first time she had observed the ability used in this manner. Unlike Papa, the man had produced a fire of some kind for the express purpose of torturing one of her captors. The magic-user remained unphased as the pleading became futile
The shock put initiative back into Mary and she was finally able to hide in her arms. Her attempts to block out the screams were in vain as the cry etched its way into her brain.
Mary screamed. What else she could she do? All emotions that had bided their time came out and she did what her body told her irrespective of the consequences.
As quickly as the commotion started it ceased to be. The mage calmed himself and wiped his hands on the uniform of the body without a face. He mutters something to himself in what Mary thought could be Albion. She could not ask since he stood up and reached for a flask as he stumbled away.
The man continued to shuffle away, hesitant after each step became heavier until he turned back around. Mary's instincts had not yet recovered, so she stayed huddled on the ground while her savour and a triple killer stood above her.
"You alright kid?"
He was defiantly a foreigner. Each word in her language struggled to come out without being drowned in his accent. He picked up her hat that had fallen off in the scuffle and put it back on her head.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." Mary continued to repeat her condition. Not stopping until she was pulled back to her feet and given her basket of goods. The man seemed to tune her reassurance out after the first seven times. There was no attempt to touch her or course her actions, apart from his introduction he was being nicer than the other soldiers. This all contradicted what she understood about soldiers and the things Papa told her.
Against her inner voice that told her to resist, Mary was unable to look away from the men that were once alive. She had never seen a dead body before, to see something that moved, smiled, and had thought was abruptly ended. The man that grabbed her and felt her chest was missing the inside of his skull, the other one that planned to do the same was in a worse condition meters away. The final body had its head blackened to a smelly mass that resembled charcoal and burnt meat.
Mary could not force herself to look away, even as tears started to prick her eyes. She wanted them to stop, she told them to let her go. There needed to be an intervention, or they would…but were the results justified. She should feel worse, the sensation of fear had mostly left her and the only pain that lingered was sourced to her ears.
The man turned her towards him, the sight of death replaced with a white handkerchief he used to dab away the blood on her face.
"You'll waste your time if you mourn things like that. People that do things like that deserve to die. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise kid."
Mary settled on being humble, as the man that saved her said, they deserved it.
The man in black walked with her out of the ally into the street. A small crowd had gathered to investigate the commotion but were kept away by more men in black uniforms. Her savour talked with some of the men he apparently had authority over and sent some to "take care of the bodies" and how they "didn't surrender" in time. Her thin grasp of the Albion language made deciphering the conversation a trial. The men in black were hooked on each word and repeated the sentiments put forth. They did not surrender in time, the man gave a warning shot first, and they all saw it. None asked her what she saw or acknowledged her presence next to their boss. Mary pulled on the taller man's tunic to try and capture his attention again.
"My Papa is a soldier too." The man looked down at her unimpressed, his leer redirected to another soldier to redirect police to him. "He is coming home today; I need to go see him."
The man sighed, sent his subordinate away and turned back to her. "How old are you kid?"
"Fifteen years old. I'll be sixteen in the summer, Mama and Papa say we can have a party since the war will be over by then. Papa just got a promotion so we're-"
"Slow down, please. Thank you." Mary stopped rather than slowed her native tongue. He started to walk down the ally and she followed him back into the open. "I'm from Albion, I don't have the best grasp of your language."
"Sorry, sir" A new thought appeared in Mary's head to push away the reminder of what she had seen. She never did anything to deserve that, but a sense of fear surrounded the event.
The Albion led her away from the crowd and to a black horse.
"How…how do I know I can trust you?" The image and sounds of the Albion burning a man alive were still fresh in her mind.
"You can't, not with a stranger. But I'll take you on the public roads and drop you off without asking any questions." He was indifferent in his answer. Stated while he petted his animal with a modicum of fondness he had not displayed until that point.
Mary hesitated for a second, she had no reason apart from fear to deny the request. It was like the Albion said, they deserved it.
"Mary Sue. Thank you for saving me." She bowed her head to respect the authority figure that saved her. The man seemed reluctant to divulge his name. He directed his attention to the horse while he muttered his name.
"Brigadier Donahue."
Mary knew his name; he had protected her and was now taking her back to Mama and Papa. He was not a stranger anymore, so perhaps she could trust him as a good soldier.
"Have you ever ridden a horse before kid?"
Donahue taught her the basics of mounting and riding a horse, not unappreciated but unnecessary as he was the one that guided the animal while she sat behind him. Mary told her tale of that morning and her family life. Donahue's interest remained professional, while minimal; despite her attempts to learn about him, he remained aloof about any missions or anything about the Unitary. The most she gleaned while she peered around his back was his refusal to talk about a wife at the threat of being kicked off the horse. Before Mary could learn why they arrived at her home, passed through the gate and she saw Papa standing on the porch smoking.
"Papa!" Mary wriggled drown from the horse and ran into her father's arms. For a moment the problems of the world faded away in the safety of Papa's embrace. His early arrival would be cause for panic if the last hour was different from the one she lived. In this safety she cried, it was the only action that felt natural now she had her father to protect her. She tried to explain what happened in between the arrival of Mama. They could not undo the past but here Mary felt immune from any future dangers this world might. "You're safe baby." Papa and Mama would coo into her ears until she exhausted herself and her wails dwindled.
"Go inside Mary, we can discuss this while we all cook breakfast together. I want to have a chat with our friend from Albion." Mary nodded against Papa's chest, sniffed her tears again and approached the Albion that dismounted his horse.
"Thank you, Mr. Donahue." The man nodded, the most he did to return her word was make a slightly less grim face. "Good luck."
She followed Mama inside, who took her basket and told her to take off her boots and come into the bathroom to get washed. She listened to her but was in no hurry, so she pretended to undo her laces as she peaked through the open door at Papa and Mr. Donahue. She had trouble decrypting each word but understood enough to follow the narrative.
The Albion was explaining what happened. How he saw three men lead her into an alleyway and the events occurred in the same manner Mary observed. His ominous description of "I have seen that look before" made Mary shiver at the connotations.
"I apologise for any trouble this will cause you. hope this won't waste your time. They might come and give you grief. It's better than the…" Mr. Donahue scratched his face. "…alternative. But I don't want to take away time from your family. Send any police officer my way and will have them talk with the Unitary."
"Thank you." Papa stayed still, unwilling to let go of Mr. Donahue's hand. The action quickly broke away into an abrupt hug that enveloped an uncomfortable Donahue. Mary had not seen Papa like that before. He hugged Mama and their relatives but never had he trapped another man in his arms while he struggled for breath. "You're a good man. Thank you."
"I try to be, Colonel. A word of advice that you already know." Mr. Donahue slowly pushed Papa off of him and slowly moved back to his transportation. "Make this time off with your family count. The longer this war becomes it's less likely all the civilians will see the end of it."
14/11/1924/ 3 KM from Oslo Regional Supply Depot, Legadonia Entente Alliance / 2 KM above Ground Level / 07:55
Tanya flew above the clouds with her mage company. It would be moments until enemy contact and the brief pains of battle would need to be endured. The luxuries of the rear were behind her and not available until their surprise attack had succeeded.
"This is company two." Lieutenant Neumann's voice came through on the orb around her neck. They were acting as the vanguard among the spearhead that was the 203rd. "I have visual confirmation with the enemy!" Then it was her turn to be the one charging headlong into the enemy.
"Remember everyone, keep your wits about you. Follow the command structure but improvise within the rules of war. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am!" The plethora of voices came in unison. It made her grin to hear their dedication. By reminding them of command but giving them minimal autonomy, she could negate any casualties as their fault while capitalising on victory. It was a necessary precaution when their plan relegated her battalion to little more than bait.
The dots of Entente mages on ski-based equipment were visible to the naked eye. There was a final cheer from the men, "Chi-rho!" Not universal but loud enough to reverberate within Tanya's skull and wipe the grin off her face. She temporarily cancelled the mana supply to the communication formula.
"Curse you Being X."
Regardless, Tanya knew she had to initiate their attack. It threw her into the fray temporarily but Lieutenant Serebryakov and the rest of the first company would be hit before they bothered to shoot her small frame.
At her order the battalion deployed a stationary duplicate of themselves while they split off in their designated direction; for Tanya, it was upward. The vanguard and the decoys would distract the enemy. If one company was noticed during the flanking manoeuvre, there were two more at different angles. Speed was their key to success, the wind and bitter cold against her face muted the sounds from her orb momentarily. She knew she could trust her human resources to perform adequately but she wondered if she could do the same in these conditions.
Her company was quickly in position above the enemy despite the hypothermic conditions. A communications check confirmed the others were as well. They were a well-oiled machine capable of luring the enemy in with a seemingly weak vanguard only to surround them. naturally, her position in this aerial Cannae was the highest, and therefore safest, point in the air,
Prince Gabriel would likely talk her ear off about the inspiration for the tactic, a nice bonus but second to impressing the General Staff.
"Pick your targets and open fire." Her order was the spark that ignited a frenzy of lethal artillery spells. The ambush claimed the Scandinavians were inadequately prepared for an attack on all sides. Tanya's first shot had claimed a distracted mage whose shield broke at first contact. Such a sloppy soldier that could not improvise deserved to have his arm blown off. She was not here for sadism and ended the life with her next shot.
The encircled mages did not last long. Tanya took out another and weakened the shields of several while coordinating targets amongst her men. Once the final enemy fell she ordered the unit to move up for the next phase of the plan. They had survived initial contact without any casualties, which did not lessen her caution of being the bait for this attack.
Now that she had taken the initial risk Tanya could take up the role of managing positions and identifying enemy movement. Her only enemy would be the cold that snuck into her gloves and up her nose. She had to clench her jaw to avoid shivers. Her size and unfortunate youth did not assist in the endeavour, deprived her of experience or natural insulation. Perhaps the Albion's were onto something tangible. While they dressed in war colours appropriate for the last century, the oxygen masks and goggles would keep the high winds and cold out. It could be worthwhile to see if they could relinquish any surplus stock. Rationalised as shared equipment for combined operations and not a way to save the battalion's budget.
The new role let her observe their target for the first time with her binoculars and not scarce maps.
It was like the Kraggana supply depot she defended when they first arrived in Norden, a complex network of railroads and warehouses. Its protection owed to a few flak guns and air-based units were used, despite the importance of the area, the distance from the active front was relegated to receive the bare minimum. The same standard convinced them no Imperial plane could reach the area and still be combat effective. Technically, that was still true. They merely failed to factor in the unexpected Commonwealth parking an aircraft carrier off the coast.
Tanya considered it luck she was not tasked with assaulting the complex, being the bait was enough. Her previous dangers let her delegate the removal of the anti-air guns to her subordinate companies. If the General Staff's calculations were correct, the units that were a real threat would appear at any moment. She had to play with her holographic screen of an observation formula to pinpoint the enemy, but they were, unfortunately, getting closer into range.
"Enemy aircraft and mage reinforcements detected." Tanya confirmed her call with binoculars to be certain. Several planes were slowly closing in. "Fighter and bomber class. Twelve-o'clock high."
The Entente must have been learning how to counter mages, admirable but simultaneously a concern. Bombers were out of range and usually carried heavy machine guns that could tear through shields. It might have been impractical for every battle, but they were ideal when it appeared the Empire only sent mages to attack a supply hub.
"Companies One, Two and Three set up a defensive line. Company Four, finish neutralising the anti-air defences. All companies are to be ready to move at my order. If Major Hanover is not in his position soon I'm ordering a general retreat." If the old John Bull could not keep to a schedule it was not in her interest to lose soldiers to cover him. It appeared to calm the mages around her to see they were not on a suicide mission today. They knew a train station was not a worthy monument to achieve glory.
Tanya stayed in the rear as they engaged the next wave, ideal for minimal commitment but sadly not a guarantee. A platoon of six mages that had flanked the 203rd was trying to attack what was perceived to be a weak target. They were lined up in formation headed directly at her, the fools must have seen her as an easy target they could rush. She claimed the targets over the airwaves to prevent one of her own from taking her record.
Unfortunately, she would need to use her cursed computation orb to pull it off. Resigned to another bout of regret, Tanya let the heat from within her chest filter into the red gem.
"Dear heavenly Father, heed my plight, guide my hand to enact thy will." Being X heard her false words and the world faded to black.
"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal,"
"but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal."
"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Tanya saw a shimmer of light, her eyelids left heavy and here painful to open. Once she managed her surroundings confounded her. She was alone, higher than when she called on the monster but not yet feeling the side effects of the temperature. Her rifle was fixated on an enemy bomber engulfed in flames, whether or not she had total credit for the kill was yet to be determined.
She analysed how much time had passed. The enemy mages had mostly been sent into disarray and the sky was mostly clear of enemy aircraft and replaced with several planes Commonwealth. The target was stricken in flames and explosions with more planes diving down to deliver a payload. A crude but successful replication of an Aichi D3A from the Salaryman's world if she had seen one.
"Major Degurechaff. This is Wendy-Thirteen. "Major Hanover's unconcerned accented voice came through. She had to admire his ability to remain upbeat and professional simultaneously. "All enemy aircraft have been dealt with. I appreciate the help, but you can return to your men. We have the skies clear."
Regardless of the fog that engulfed her mind, Tanya was hesitant to go back to a desperate enemy that might be plunged into a suicidal commitment. "They can manage, step in for me if necessary Major. I will check the crash for survivors I wouldn't want your queen to have all the glory from this battle."
Major Hanover agreed and bid her farewell. Perfect due to Tanya's doubt in her ability to rationally argue while a poison lingered in her mind.
Tanya landed a safe distance away from the destroyed aircraft, the walk to the wreckage an ideal excuse to clear her mind and regather her thoughts. She climbed onto the large canvas wings that once kept the large east airborne. Now mere timber to the engine fire that bellowed black columns of smoke into the sky. Up went the smoke and down came snowflakes, there was friend and foe alike drawing out the battle already won by the Anglo-Imperial forces. By excusing herself to check for survivors it spared her from wasting further energy in the cold.
The pilots were dead, additional crew absent and presumed to be the same. She was not keen to search the forest ladened with snow to confirm her theory. The pair in the cockpit were slouched onto the controls.
"I hoped to bring a prisoner back." Tanya muttered to herself as she poked the closest body with her rifle's muzzle. There was the obvious military value in the action, coupled with an excuse to go back to base early and be rewarded in the process. It frustrated her that she considered – and did – her proceeding action.
She holstered her rifle and patted down the bodies while attempting to minimise contact with their bleeding corpses. Maps, papers, a wallet, photos, all clues of human existence missing. Her effort produced basic paybooks, uncannily pristine and likely fakes from a foreign nation disguising their efforts. Her documents were subject to regular wear and tear, these were practically fresh from the printer. She had dirtied her gloves for molesting the dead to confirm what she already knew.
Tanya checked one final spot and pushed the closest corpse back to inspect the neckline. The pilot uniform was indistinguishable for any, no matter; she sought final confirmation for her theory. As suspected: no dog tags. In their place was a small metal crucifix that made her blood begin to boil.
Tanya let the body tumble back onto the control panel. "So much for your glory and power Being X." She scoffed. With all this suffering and indiscriminate death, the world proved the falsehood of a god.
"Some savour you can be Being X." At least the investigation reminded her of who her true enemy was. A hypocrite that spouted love while allowing his followers to die. A deity that sought to curse her instead of solving her problems or restoring life to the Salaryman.
Tanya felt pity and rage for the deceased. How could someone be so blinded? She knew her personality was abnormal, even so, she could recognise reality for what it was. There was no loving god that made children of humanity – how could you let something you allegedly care about die like that?
The crash was for the wilderness or research and development; whichever got to it first. Tanya turned around to walk back down the wing while contemplating her next move to take her mind from Being X.
The world shifted into a new form without changing. She noticed but failed to register the fact until her heavy footsteps were silent. The new world stuck to the skin on her body. Her senses were expanded, she shivered without the sensation of temperature and no longer seemed to need breath.
Being X was there. That thing was here all around her and pulled her attention behind her.
Tanya swallowed the spit in her mouth. She ensured her teeth remained clenched and her posture rigged. No part of her wanted to appear weak in front of Him.
Tanya faced away from what would embody and symbolise Being X this time. She disengaged the safety of her rifle as the silence began to overwhelm her. It was Him that made every encounter hostile. It was always Being X that sought to make her feel attacked and unable to adequately defend herself.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
Like the first time she heard it at the train station, the sound echoed around her and from within her skull. The voice of a man as well as hers. It was the voice of every man and woman she had encountered and the infinite number that never knew of her. Visha, her officers, Gabriel, Annabelle, Sister Amalia, each of her subordinates and the entirety of the Imperial government vividly whispered the words of Being X. Too many to comprehend lest attempt to count but vivid to her every time the deity spoke. It spoke without a comprehensible language or sound but made the sound in every tongue she knew.
Tanya whipped around and unloaded a bullet into the body of the papist dead in the cockpit. There was no sound in tandem with the muzzle flash and red hole in the body. Tanya forced herself to breathe, only failing to draw in air. The world remained still, the rifle remaining fixated on the target underneath increased anxiety.
All that power and Being X used it to mock her; it was pathetic. She was not scared of anything that had to use its power to reveal itself.
The corpse configured rapidly, sprung back to life from unseen forces that forgone bones. Pulled up by invisible strings to levitate in the air. The face remained with a lifeless expression through the sights of her rifle.
"It would seem every nation is out for your blood, my lost lamb of such little faith. At least, that is the lie you tell yourself."
Nation? So, her suspicions were accurate, naturally, Tanya was aware her theories were often true – for better but usually for worse. She had to force her feet to stay still, they had already moved back independent of her mind and brought her to teeter on the edge of the wing.
"You should be proud, Being X. All this destruction and suffering, all that supposed power and you let this happen!" Tanya gritted her teeth as she spoke. She wanted to belittle this creature but limited herself. She had the self-respect to avoid a descent into a mad rambling. She assigned that pride to the reason her voice wavered, and her jaw shook on its own to prevent a mistake; no other emotions should be assumed.
"You decry me as a tyrant, but demand I subvert the free will of humanity. Your slavery to the sin of pride prevents you from seeing faith as anything other than a hindrance. Your hubris refuses to consider that any problem is of your creation or any certain thought could be wrong. This prison will hold you until you change your ways."
"I am anything but enslaved. I have seen your weak-minded followers; do you really think they are better off than me?" The faces of Price Gabriel and her subordinates flashed through her mind. The sense the images were not private prevailed in her mind. "If they were better off, why didn't you stop them from joining the army or my battalion? I don't think letting your "children" fight and die in the freezing cold is promised. What about my intensive training routine, why not tell save those slaves from me?"
Tanya had to pause her rebuttal to calm her voice and steady her aim. She might have been cursed to look like a child, but she had no interest in acting like one.
"A CEO can allow departmental autonomy but must get involved in a period of crisis. Where have you been all this time? We're on the edge of a World War here!"
"But who are you, O child, to answer back to Me? The divine whispers hardened without becoming aggressive. "By the death of the Son, one shall not die to sin and will live to righteousness. By my wounds, you have been healed. No crisis bypasses my eye without correction Tanya, not to the world or to the person. No suffering is without improvement, through trials the faith within you can grow and become like their Father in life and death."
The monster shifted its puppet further into the air, the blood and injuries caused by her rifle, or the crash faded away even while life remained absent. The face appeared to be in near bliss although it lacked the ability to change. Tanya tried to look away but was compelled by her training to not look away from an active threat.
"Where were you when your first life ended? Who retrieved your soul from the fires of hell? Who gave you this life as an opportunity for growth as it is your penance? Was it not I? Was it not I that bestowed the greatness within you, so that my word would be shown through your good deeds? Because you chose to be a slave does not mean your Father will abandon you."
The dead body conjoined in the air, it stopped her from a response that she had yet to envision.
"You worship the manifestation of your sins and dare to curse My name when you fail. You must remove the log from your eye before you can judge others. You are defensive Tanya, do not celebrate your defiance as independence from me. The view that the limitless matter of the universe is plotting your downfall will only guide you to ruin. I believe another approach is in order Tanya."
The face morphed into a hideous gleeful, one that mocked her more than it struck terror into her core.
"So, tell me my lost lamb. How does it feel to know you must fight the entire world in order to survive?"
Tanya fired at the body the monster dangled in front of her, again and again without her usual restraint. She had to destroy the manifestation that tormented her. The corpse received each wound but that look never stopped staring at her. Her gun clicked empty, she needed to distance herself to reload. In her haste, she stepped back and fell off the wing, the contact with the ground knocking the air out of her lungs. The world returned to normal as she struggled to remember how to breathe again. Snow fluttered down on top of her, and the subtle smell of smoke returned to irritate her nostrils.
Tanya laid in the snow for a moment, the incoming communication formula ignored while she contemplated her thoughts. "Another approach" what did that mean? It had to be a threat of some kind if one frustratingly vague. Of course, Being X was fond of speaking without saying anything of substance. However, that battle would have to be fought at a later date, Tanya still had to finish this one. Tanya remained on her back as she pooled mana into her orb and heard the voice of Visha emit outward.
"Major, we have detected an anomalous observation wave. Major Hanover has found a potential location as the source. Awaiting your permission to engage."
A magical anomaly? Some form of observation post no doubt. Espionage would bode well with a prolonged stay in enemy territory. That operation with current technology would have to be covertly done from above ground. Which meant there was a defenceless stationary target she could add to her record. She might have to use her cursed orb again for increased range and capabilities, but it would be worth it for the prestige.
"Send me the coordinates and met, I'll take care of our unwelcomed guests." Tanya cut the formula off and groaned again, reluctant to continue the day after the cryptic interaction with Being X.
It was all Being X's fault. She did not care what He claimed, if she was a child then why did he not stop her from fighting with her siblings? It only proved He was a lousy parent. She was not wrong, and neither was she "prideful." It was hardly her fault if she was smarter and more rational than an alleged omnipotent creature.
"See, I don't need you Being X, no one does!" She shouted up into the sky, knowing nothing was there to answer her. Partially an attempt to reinforce her stance more than spite her mortal enemy. "I have my free will without you!"
14/11/1924/ [REDACTED], Entente Alliance / Unitary of Albion Army Observation Post / [REDACTED]
Lieutenant Colonel Isaac Dustin Drake craved a cigar, disappointed he had to settle for tea. Perhaps champagne would be the most appropriate for the occasion if he evaluated the report from the chief analyst.
"Sir, we have identified the child mage our Benefarcies forces recorded from the west. We can confirm her as the Devil of the Rhine."
Whisky, he definitely needed whisky. It was the ideal remedy to hearing the Empire had a powerful ace at their command.
"And here I thought it was just a myth, who would have thought the Republic was telling the truth all this time." It was a rhetorical question, one not even his comrade of equal rank indulged in. The cells imbedded in the Republic since the outbreak of hostilities had been reporting on and doubting this subject for nearly a year. The last he heard one of their groups found a possible match in Dacia, now she was up in Scandinavia. It was a concern that a single mage could be in so many places at once.
"Sergeant, record the date and produce a copy to send back home. If that mage managed to take out an entire mage platoon we will have to inform the Consul immediately. Are there any intercepted messages?" Another NCO replied negative, an undecidable encryption algorithm cited as the reason. The cabin gradually drowned in the standard reports and status updates that were the standard of these missions.
Drake sat down and sipped his tea, pleased to have been humbled with his doubts proven away. It would show him to trust their boys in black again, perhaps he should have applied for the elites of the Unitary. A station in wine-soaked Parisii would outclass a crowded cabin in the frigid north. But life was for work, not comfort, as the Unitary never got tired of reminding them. He would have to talk with his nephews once he got back. The youngest was already in the youth group, the others could be convinced to transfer, even the stubborn William.
At least the mistake of their father would not impact the rest of the family. Drake knew his brother never wanted to harm his kids with his clandestine actions.
The room immediately sparked with excitement when a new wave of data came in. Alpha Unit detected the mage had emitted a powerful signature. Drake knew it was odd, there were only friendly units in range of the Devil. Had the child made a mistake? He could see the levels from his chair, there must have been a target, and the machines would not show that much-concentrated mana if the user had no intentions of using it.
Unless...
"They're tracking the equipment! Retreat!"
There was a collective dash for the exit when they all realised the danger they were in. The organisation was abandoned for survival instinct, this time-proven adequate as the cabin erupted into shrapnel the moment they were out of the blast radius. The explosion and shockwave hurled them into the ill comfort of wet snow. Stranded, without warm clothes or food and missing the information about the Devil of the Rhine. They were all alive, that was enough.
"Thank the Lord." Drake stood up, his grunts intentionally stifled to hide his age and immediate pain. He felt the sudden need to start going back to church.
14/11/1924/ Berun, Germanic Empire / Abwehr Office, Vice Admiral Canaris' Office / 11:00
Vice Admiral Fredrich Canaris watched the crown prince stir in the chair parallel to his desk. Prince Josef Adler had arranged a meeting of unspecified purpose at the Abwehr offices: the beating heart of the Empire's intelligence network.
Canaris found himself more loyal to the nation-state than the puppet who sat on its throne. However, he knew it was in his interest to pay lip service to the puppet's oldest surviving son. The spoiled brat might not ascend to the stage for another decade or two, but it was never too early to attach strings to a marionette.
The men sat in silence as his secretary poured glasses of Canaris' favourite schnapps. It was technically outside of the pretty creature's profession, along with the plethora of "extracurricular activities" his secretaries performed for their employer. Just another treat he had earned from his years of service to the Empire. Providing him with youthful experience and features his wife could not deliver in her wifely duties. Canaris had read that the youth of today preferred older men anyways. He had gone through enough secretaries to prove that notion right. If this meeting with Josef went well, he might reward himself with another luxury only firm breasts could deliver.
He was good, no, excellent, at his job. Intelligence on events outside and within the Empire was monitored appropriately. Enemy spies inevitably found their way into a holding cell in the basement and sometimes up a chimney in a flurry of ash. Outside of his position, several corrupt politicians were kept in line with strategic blackmail and discrete payments of hush money. There was not a smuggler or fraudulent public sector employee that was able to grossly exploit the nation for personal gain. Without the department, the Empire would be defenceless. Without him, the Empire would shrivel and die from internal cancer he kept to a minimum.
Because of their significance, the Supreme High Council granted his institution autonomy in the procedure, but they were not without drawbacks. The requests turned to demands and eventually expectations. Canaris kept up with the workload over the years; minor incidences notwithstanding. Was it wrong to take a reward for all his hard work? Perhaps it was not orthodox, but neither was the emperor's love of model trains, General von Zettour's theatre life or anything expensive for air force chief Herald von Georing.
Canaris suppressed the thought as the girl left her social betters in private. Now was time for work.
"You look troubled Your Highness." Canaris' account was fair. Puzzlingly, he left his winter coat on despite being indoors – likely an internal security measure to hide in. The shorter man clutched his fists into balls, nearly shaking in his regal tunic, and fitted boots. Not of fear, like the secretaries when their strings were pulled to make them perform, this was a different type of performance anxiety. This was something more useful: anger.
"There are many factors that contribute to my condition Vice Admiral. Chief among them is unfortunately not the war."
"It must be pressing if that is the circumstance, sir." The prince was young but no fool. "But that would indicate why you asked to see me."
It would be more fitting to say "why you crawled to me" but accuracy for authenticity was unnecessary; especially if it would invite trouble. "What is bothering you, sir?"
Josef subverted a smile from appearing on his face, a telling sign of pent-up stress. "I have many fears Vice Admiral, as does any man. But none scare me." Josef uncrossed his shaking legs. "That being said: it is the Invicta Pact that scares me."
Canaris sipped from his glass, feeling the mild sting of alcohol run down his throat. How pleasant. His Highness was not an inexperienced fool. "Your fears are well-founded sir. This is something I am uncertain the General Staff has fully grasped."
Josef straightened his posture. "I have discussed this with von Zettour and von Rudersdorf. They only see the military aspect and refuse to look at anything else. They fail to see the economic implications, so long as the army gets what it wants they fail to care. Simply because we outmatch them militarily for the moment they are dismissed as a threat." He shook his head for a moment, dispelling a thought within his head. "No, they should know an invincible army can be beaten off the battlefield."
"I am pleased to see we are of the same sound mind, sir." Josef nodded along before starting another exclamation to legitimise the source of his fear.
"What good is victory if we are financially tied to the Commonwealth for our necessities? If we were to cut all ties today I doubt Dacian oil alone can subsist us for more than another year. That fails to touch on the grain, rubber, and common luxuries we lack due to the war effort." Josef shuffled in his chair, setting his glass of lite alcohol on the desk. "At our current rate, I calculate we will be entrapped in substantial debt by 1926. Then the Commonwealth can make us another colony to bleed dry."
"These are fair concerns, ones I share myself." Canaris had to naturally present his feigned ignorance. "The Abwehr officially has no justification in civilian affairs of that manner. We stick purely to matters related to the military."
"But privately." Josef nodded along to try and strengthen his point. "There are many factors in a nation that are related to armaments. A farmer provides the soldier's ration after all." Canaris judged the prince was not confident in his position or argument; it was visible and exploitable regardless. "You can't expect me to believe the might of our nation is not worth the bending of some rules or formalities. I doubt you would share my concerns but not act accordingly."
Canaris chuffed, he was pleased with his sovereign. There could be more to this man yet. The Supreme High Council had always pushed for more. Now, he had finally been halted in his tracks by the Albions. The Abwehr had acquired a quarter of the information he anticipated, of that only a third might be legitimate. He was in danger of falling behind and the prince's description was not welcomed.
"Privately: none of my department's attempts has accomplished anything outside of superficial connections. Shipping routes, arrival times, escort policy of merchant ships. It's not public but neither is it remarkable. The accomplishment I can confirm is there exists no organised Commonwealth counterintelligence within our borders."
"That is the mark of a good spy is it not?" Josef rose in his smothering jacket slightly, appearing aware of his cocky wording. "Wit aside; I applaud the efforts made by the Empire's Intelligence. Please know you have my approval to pursue the matter further."
The last thing Canaris needed was regal permission to do what was best for his nation. The emperor had permitted the Commonwealth back onto the continent; the last thing he would do would wait until one of the Adlers came to tell him to do his job. It was the Abwehr that held the corrupt weasels of the government in line and prevented them from tearing the state apart. If he needed a rubber stamp for each action or inquiry the Empire would fall in a fortnight.
"But you didn't come to me to hope I already had a lead, did you sir?"
Josef shuffled again in his seat, reaching into his jacket and fumbled with an item inside. Revealing his trump card that would reverse the subtle grip the Commonwealth had over their politics. A standard brown envelope for the most prestigious – or incriminating – documents. Held for a moment longer while Josef finished his speech.
"I received this from a source within the Commonwealth. It has nothing to do with their state but is a direct threat to the celts of Caledonia." Josef passed it on, Canaris drilling more questions while he opened the envelope of critical secrets.
"It will assist my efforts if you reveal your sources."
"I would if I could, Vice-Admiral. They chose to remain anonymous."
"If you could inquire when possible, I would be most appreciative." Canaris blocked his scowl behind the envelope. It must have been an insurance policy His Highness might be trying to establish leverage or autonomy by withholding that critical information. It would be harder to tie the strings to this puppet than anticipated.
The frustration flashed to a shocked expression when the first document was pulled from its protective seal. "My God!"
Canaris flipped his fingers through the stacked pages, placing the first one on his desk. The folder was ladened several centimetres thick with full-page black and white photos of presumably the same nature. Meaning he held up to one hundred pornographic pinup photos of a younger Princess Rachel Stuart.
The seam of his pants got slightly tighter. Canaris was thankful this meeting was held while sitting down.
"I will admit sir, this is an unexpected development." Canaris kept his eyes on the lovely photo. It Risked the perception that we were enjoying a young girl spread before him a little too much. Canaris thankfully came to his senses and redirected his attention back to the present.
"I have no idea their purpose is, or how the source produced them, but I believe it is fair to rule out the Stuart family." Canaris' eyes acquainted themselves with the ceiling of the room while he spoke.
"Naturally," Canaris took out another photo. This one featured an overhead view of princess Rachel, most nude features hidden under a sexually charged mouth hooked open with her fingers. The next one surprised him by containing another partner, an older man with his face out of frame, not that anyone would look away from what he did to Her Highness. "Perhaps that Queen is whoring her children to pay for those aircraft carriers."
Canaris put down the photo, as predicted Josef was shaking in anger at the implications. If he enraged the man, he might slip up. "Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to imply such circumstances were enacted on Princess Regina and Prince Gabriel."
Josef was silent for a moment. His controlled leg shaking to outlet his frustration kept in check. "It's alright Vice-Admiral. I…It's a stressful topic for me. I don't enjoy the idea of my baby sister being paired off with some mere Lieutenant she barely knows."
"Your baby sister might be an overstatement sir." Canaris genuinely chuckled and was amused by the gesture. If slightly disappointed no further information was begotten. "The Empire's beloved is twenty now, eleven your junior. Hardly a baby even to an old man like me."
Josef was quelled, tamed by agreement then strung up with manipulated humility. Canaris knew that girl was a soft spot for anyone in the Imperial family, the eldest son especially. If the crown prince had another weakness besides his lack of nerve it was unknown to him. The girl's esteem was part of the reason never pursued her, despite how magnificent that prize would be. It would be the end of his career and life if he laid a finger on or inside Regina.
The naked broad on his desk might be another circumstance, however.
"If we want to use this information efficiently we should challenge the immediate family. They will most likely act how we desire." Canaris used common language for sceptical only. This would be his operation no matter what.
The junior raised a question for clarification. "So, it is a matter of who and where?"
"You are a military man sir. You must know it's best to assault the weakest point in the line. It is a matter of rationally determining which Stuart is the weakest link." Another compliment to the prince could not go amiss. Canaris continued before Josef could make the point he already knew would come. "Because of his proximity to princess Regina: I advise we disregard the youngest member of the Stuarts."
"I approve Vice-Admiral. Thank you." Josef forced himself to smile while giving the order. Canaris hid his frustration at the arrogance the fool thought he could control him.
"I suggest presenting the information to the model directly. The other family members might not be as malleable."
Josef shifted again; he may have hated the external threat but lacked the stomach for this kind of business. Another article of proof to Canaris is that it was himself and the Abwehr that preserve the Empire. At least the prince was willing to let him do the necessary work.
"I will make a deal with Princess Rachel. She can become our man on the inside feeding us their plans and economic details. It will allow us to counter them from a position of power. I have other sources I would like to pursue first, however. We'll use blackmail as a contingency plan."
Canaris' smile grew on Josef, although soured from uncertainty. He never had this much leverage over any Abwehr target or a former secretary, not until he disposed of them. This one he could not kill or impregnate but that should not stop him from enjoying himself. There were enough photos to prove the whore would probably enjoy it. A trait of his professionalism: his partners inevitably enjoyed themselves and came to love the metaphorical strings he placed them in.
Miss Rachel might have been the type to enjoy literal restraints on top of the ones he would implement. There was photographic proof on his desk that was familiar with such items.
"Shall we make a toast, Your Highness?" Canaris raised the alcohol glass, ready to touch the unconsumed glass of Josef. The man picked his cup back up and brought it to make the noise of glass clinking.
"To the Empire's success." Canaris repeated the sentence after Josef, indulging in the drink while the prince held his cup in his lap.
The Empire would reap its just rewards from this scheme in due time. Politics tended to take up significant amounts of time. So, it was fitting to enjoy the short-term goal as soon and for as long as possible.
Canaris always wanted a princess for himself.
A/N:
Not a great chapter for sexual morality is it? It should make sense why I am always speculating when the ratings will inevitably shift to M
I try to avoid any personal opinions or politics in my non-academic work. Despite that, I feel like it will inevitably be evident how much I detest sexual violence. Not to the extent where I support the actions of Donahue.
I was (and remain slightly) hesitant to introduce Mary in this manner. I do think I did it well without going through with the deed. When I consider the reputation of Mary in the fan base I know there needs to be a change in her maturity and reasoning. I do not want to change her actions, rather legitimise them in a way that is entertaining and satisfactory to read. She still needs to be an antagonist but if I can pull it off she can be an actual foe and not a screaming angry teenager. Simultaneously, she needs discipline and restraint to justify her staying in the story, or else she would be kicked out of the army so fast her head would spin. I tried to make her naïve, hopefully, that came off instead of plain idiocy. It is an odd line to tread, seeing as the teenage and young adult age bracket can have a lot of outcomes.
To quote one of my beta readers "Okay first off I want Mary dead not raped," which continues to make me laugh despite the implications that I have a lot of work ahead of me.
On that note: I want to formally thank Sailormage for becoming another beta reader. He officially started in the last chapter and the formalities are my fault. I have yet to trick him into writing anything yet but when there is something uploaded I'll post about it (plz don't tell him about my plan).
On a related note, go check out the Saint if you have not already (if you have made it this far, then considering how much of my story he makes me change, you will should already like his work).
Now for random points and thoughts:
The title is from 1 Corinthians 6:18.
It has been addressed by one of my beta readers that Rachel having pornography of herself is a stupid decision since it can be used as blackmail. To that, I agree, which is why it is happening. This might be an odd point to make but it was the biggest piece of criticism levelled against me so I feel compelled to break form and say it is a stupid decision on Rachel's part. Further information will be revealed in good time.
To avoid confusion, Donahue is the same guy from chapter nine that razed a Dacian village and slaughtered its inhabitants. I have received feedback that killing the men is a poor decision when he could reason or threaten them to save Mary. I agree it's a bad option, but it fits the character I am trying to create. I would like to cite how he was willing to shoot his men if they were found on top of a woman and nearly did when he thought it might be happening. So why would three strangers fair any better?
Do the magic holograms feel silly to anyone else or are it just me? I'm not a big fan of them and have quite frankly only used them since they are canon (and we all know I absolutely refuse to change the canon, ever). To me, it feels like something too complex and abusable, which I suppose is part of the point since the 203rd uses them a great deal in canon. Maybe it's just me, it would not be the first time. I always run Holo Pilot in Titanfall 2 and it is the same concept but with magic rather than science fiction so it probably is just me (Youjo Senki x Titanfall crossover when?).
I think it is common agreement the Anime did the concept the best out of all versions. I follow this opinion but still felt there was room for improvement. I have written the same depiction of the voice that was used in the Prince of Egypt; in which the actor for Moses also is the 'main' voice of God while the rest of the cast whispers the same lines. It is an excellent decision that not only made God more personal to Moses but kept about the mysticism, there is no single voice of God. Say what you will about the anime Being X. The deep male voice is a lot less interesting or threatening instead of your voice talking to you while being more intelligent.
Just a friendly reminder I have changed the reincarnation cycle to Tanya being banished to hell in the first chapter. It isn't too impactful but keeps in line with the Church canon and lets me stick to the one theology in the story. Considering how much I have already altered in this world I doubt this would ruffle feathers.
Thank you for reading. God be with you all.