The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter Nineteen- Another Approach I
23/11/1924/ Stockholm, Legadonia Entente Alliance/ Riksdag Stockholm Palace, Boardroom / 07:23
Foreign Affairs Councillor Abensoll rose to address the governing council of the Legadonia Entente Alliance. Sweat collected in his palms despite the cold that seeped into the conference room. He anticipated a fierce backlash against him, particularly with the ill news he was to deliver.
"The Unitary of Albion has refused to provide further support in the face of the Empire's winter offensive."
"I've heard nothing of this! What the hell caused them to pull out?" Army Councillor Cazor loudly bit back against the report. Abensoll knawed on the inside of his cheek to quell his frustration in a healthy manner.
"They are not pulling out. They have just refused to send further military assistance to our cause. Apparently, the risks outweigh the benefits."
"We only received half of their promised supplies. What the hell are they trying to pull?" Another Councillor, this time Korsor, cried out for Abensoll to account for. The collective ire of the room had been levelled exclusively onto him.
"I am in good authority it is the Imperial Navy had intercepted the shipments. The Unitary has not neglected the initial agreement. They merely neglect to expand it."
"You claim that sir, yet here they are hanging us out to dry." Cazor had the last say in the matter before sinking further into his seat.
The actions of independent foreign politicians would always frustratingly reflect on his position. Abensoll had no problem admitting his faults, however, to blame him for the Unitary's actions felt unreasonable. Neither the public nor his compatriots agreed to that. He dug his face in his hands. There went his re-election bid.
In times of crises, Abensoll and the other nine councillors of state were primarily worried about their positions. Most of the country simply wanted the war to be over, the respective victor would be complimentary to an end to hostilities. In the unlikely event they managed to capitulate the Empire and re-integrated Denemcarc territory, not one expected to win re-election. In turn, most sought to protect their personal interests or finances.
Abensoll himself quietly sold his shares in the nation's oil fields and moved the healthy sum to Waldstätte bank accounts. If the Empire won, they would take the facilities and perhaps give them to an autonomous Norge. That would be a slap in the face. To break off what the Legadonia rightfully retrieved during the Commonwealth's collapse. The covert manoeuvring of funds might have been deceitful alone. Although nearly every one of the councillors indulged in a form of insider training. The key was to keep it modest without alerting or impacting the press.
Abensoll returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. The grumbling men from around the table sought to find a solution to their problem.
"The Empire attacks for want of opportunity. With or without further assistance we can consolidate our losses and push the Imperial's back."
"If the Unitary won't support us we should retaliate."
"How would that help us?"
"We should have never approached the Unitary. The Republic is our ally."
"The Republic can't push into the Empire either. Haven't you read the newspapers? This country is holding on by a thread!"
"Who's fault is that?"
Then one man broke the mass of angry bellows. "That is enough! All of you!"
Agriculture Councillor Quislie rose to speak, his fingers pulled on his collar to let the air down his windpipe. While out of his field, his past service in the Norge military made him an informal second to Cazor in prestige and word; despite neither man rejoicing in their partnership.
Abensoll now wished he heeded the caution.
The war was intended to be a flash of lightning. The Empire was to falter and retreat and if that failed the Republic could invade from the west. It was the perfect plan if one overlooked the composition of the two armies, the world news firmly favouring the alleged legality of the Germanic nation, and the lousy supply situation they all faced.
"Gentlemen, let us return to the matter at hand."
"Thank you,"
"But if I may be allotted a word on the present matter?"
Abensoll nodded. Not in a position to reject the dictate.
"Councillor Cazor and I held a meeting with members of our armed forces last night. We are reasonably confident in our capabilities to hold the line for the remainder of the winter. If we have a late thaw the Empire might take more losses to attrition than bullets."
Abensoll was about to continue to be cut off by a mildly hesitant Quislie.
"That being said, for full disclosure, it should be on record it is in our interest to offer terms of surrender."
As one could expect, and Quislie likely had, the room burst into violent rhetoric against the proposal. Abensoll bit back a vile insult in place of factual counterarguments. As it was formally his period to speak, he was best suited.
"Nonsense. We should show our resolve to continue the struggle, hopeless or otherwise. To surrender in the middle of an offensive would signal our weakness."
"Our weakness is transparent to the world Abdnsoll. Or have you been absent this past year? There are more foreigners defending Legendonian soil than Scandinavians. Most of our men are buried while our women and children skulk off to the Unified States."
Quislie spoke over a cowed room. No one, not even Cazor, had the confidence to rebuttal the points of the former Norge national. These past meetings had become little more than listing failures each councillor claimed no responsibility for. Quislie continued unopposed.
"It is not a favourable option. If there is another besides a desperate defence and pearl clutching, let's hear it. Right now, Abensoll! I am tired of these meetings that accomplish nothing more than self-aggrandizement!"
At that, the Councillor of Agriculture sat down, his face redder than when he rose to speak.
Few, or more likely none, wanted to admit the proposal was realistic. If they offered reasonable terms while maintaining a standing army their nation might remain independent. Abensoll might spare his position and head if he negotiated an honourable peace, but it would only keep him in office until the next round of voting. It would be preferable to double down and aim for the total victory they initially predicted. He still had an ace up his sleeve. A proposal that could only increase in success the longer the war dragged on. The smile he had felt too large for his face.
"Gentlemen, as we have seen, a strategy of defence is not only feasible but proactive. If we can hold the front lines into the Spring, it is possible I can orchestrate direct involvement from the Unified States against the Empire."
The Councillor murmured at the proposal. Some joined in with gleeful expressions that matched his own. Save for one.
"The Unified States?" Quislie had laughed audibly. "Do you mean to tell us you want the Unified States to save the Entente from the Empire?"
"They are a better ally than an enemy." Cazor bit back.
"They are an isolationist nation. They can build a hundred cars a day and that many rifles an hour if they can mobilize the industry. Neither are useful when they are in a warehouse across the ocean."
"That is all true." Abensoll expected such claims and prepared formal counterarguments. "They have to contend with the Commonwealth to their north, Latin America southward and the Akitsushimans in the Pacific. They will be forced to defend their national interests eventually. It will be my job to persuade them that time is now."
"Yes, those interests extend to accepting our refugees to work in their factories." Quislie was unfazed and sat with his arms crossed in a general harumph. "You can try your best begging routine on them. The fact remains the Unified States won't enter this war for our sake."
Quislie locked eyes with Abensoll, each willing to stare until the other broke down. It might have been meaningless but to Abensoll, it was all he had to combat the threat. After all; Quislie made a valid point. He knew, that if he could sit with an American statesman all would he well: for the nation and his career.
He did not give up then and neither would he give up now.
"Gentlemen, I believe we are forgetting the purpose of this meeting." Cazor jumped in to save him. "We should finish all subjects on the docket before we lose ourselves to debate."
"Agreed, but if I may have a final word on the matter."
"We might have acted rashly. But-"
"You did act rashly." Quislie muttered.
"However!" Abensoll spoke up to not lose the validity of his point.
"Councillor Cazor and Councillor Quislie have confirmed for us today that we will be able to hold out against the Empire - if temporarily."
"With luck and the grace of God, our troops and those from our allies can keep the Hun in place."
"And if the Latin Church is better than God?"
"Then we have troubles far greater than that of politics." Abensoll felt his heart drop at the veiled confession.
23/11/1924 / Osfjord Fortress, Legadonia Entente Alliance/ Osfjord Fortress, Exterior / 07:49
Sue tried to never show fear in front of his daughter. He needed to be a strong example in her life, a rock to which she could cling in times of hardship. She would need that stability now more than ever.
However, his eyes began to swell when he looked at her. This could be the last time he would see his flesh and blood before she was evacuated alongside his wife.
"I'm sorry Mary. I'm sorry." Sorry for everything. That he was never there to watch her grow up. Sorry for failing to protect her from the world, and the war, he could do nothing to spare her from his countrymen.
"Mary, I've never been a good father. I would-" His throat hitched. "…I need you and your mother safe. I'm sorry I could not give you the life you deserve."
Then Mary smiled at him, the old tears of pleading for him to come evaporated.
"It's alright Papa."
That was what broke him. He was a soldier, a mage, he had seen his comrades brutally die to that devil when the war started but it was his daughter's love that made him cry in public. His wife in arms reach did not hesitate to join the embrace between her partner and kin.
Others not distracted by their families looked at them. The Albion with the weapons case tried to distance himself from the scene.
"I need you to take care of your mother in the Unified States honey." Sue could feel her nod against his coat.
"I will. I'll listen to grandma and grandpa as she said."
A part of Sue wished to flee with them into the New World – to cast aside the war for the sake of his family. That was why he must stay. If he ran away in the face of a challenge, how could he claim to be a model for Mary?
"Colonel sir?" Sue shook his head, he was back in the miserable present.
"My apologies Major Gunner. I was lost in thought for a moment."
Sue focused on the morning sky of the Osfjord fortress. A clear blue that imitated the water in colour and vast beauty. He wished he could enjoy it, the wonder of nature had to shine upon a fortress he was tasked to defend. It was an instance of fine architecture built into the cliffs that surrounded the important fjord, yet Anson could not equate it to being visibly appealing. Especially when it was staffed by the youths of his country - the sign of a desperate last defence.
Sue stopped walking to look down at the square of newly arranged recruits in the courtyard a level below. It was shameful that the next generation of adolescence needed to take up arms for a predicament that was no fault of their own. It was only right that an old man such as himself stayed to shoulder some of the burdens.
Sue pinched his nose and groaned. The war was hardly his fault. He was a patriot as were the recruits below. It was the new regime that stirred nationalist sentiments and ran headfirst into the war against the Empire to solidify the government. An enemy superior in technology, manpower, and strategic abilities. He thanked the Lord he sent Mary and his wife away. If he stalled any longer it might be his family that experienced the Empire's renewed winter offensive. Brigadier Donahue was right, the longer the war was the less likely all the civilians will see the end of it. Anson would let his flag burn before Mary shed an ounce of blood for it.
Major Gunner fulfilled his ironic name while Anson contemplated his thoughts. He hurriedly talked about the gun emplacements that lined the coast. They would ideally cripple any invading fleet, so an invasion was impossible, which consequently made the Osfjord a prime target for enemy forces. His promotion to colonel was mostly to oversee the facility and ensure the rear rail hubs were protected from a raiding force. At times it felt like the real purpose was to be the first casualty when the Empire decided to shell this place.
It was regrettable, but if the youth were going calmly to the killing fields, an adult should at the very least go along to lead them.
"Come on, we don't want to be late." Sue resumed the walk. They approached a steel door built into the cliffside, guarded by another baby-faced conscript that found joy in his ignorance. The tunnels ran under the base like an ant's nest made of undecorated grey concrete. Sue disliked the cold ill-lit claustrophobic environment, only satisfied by the knowledge it was only for the meeting with the Unitary's man. Major Gunner opened the door to the improvised barracks and office space that already held the fasces.
"Colonel Sue." The Albions saluted them before Anson had taken his coat off. The one that spoke was of equal rank, a tall and lanky man. His adjutant reminded him of Mary too much. Blue happy eyes, an eager look of innocence. The kid was taller than his little girl but looked no older than her age. It made him sick to look at.
"Colonel Wright, a pleasure. Private..." Sue was certain the name was floated by him on a document somewhere. It escaped him at the moment.
"Private Marc Farman, Colonel sir." The kid snapped to another salute a little too quickly. The poor creature was as eager as he was nervous.
"Private, there is a kitchen on the ground floor, go fetch us some coffee." A third salute was given, and the child sprinted to complete the order. His superior had a comment once the youngster was out of earshot.
"Part frog that one. He's enthusiastic but not much going on upstairs. I wouldn't be surprised if he burned down the base trying to make a brew."
Gunner laughed at the mockery despite it being at the expense of a young man. Anson was less amused. "Should we send for the private to return?"
"No, don't bother." Colonel Wright glommed over a map set in the sight of the lone window strung with metal bars window. "The private means well but he's not much smarter than a rock."
Sue kept his thoughts to himself. It was uncomfortable to equate the Albion to his daughter and then have the parody openly berated. His baby and wife were safe on a ship – there was nothing that could harm him.
"Colonel. What can you tell me about our air capabilities?" Sue moved next to Wright to observe the map.
"Most of the Unitary's resources are in the south, no surprise there. My men are drilling your countrymen constantly. By the end of the week, we should be fully operational here, here, here and here." Wright pointed to each quadrant on the map. A healthy balance of land and sea coverage. "The fortress is designed to repel naval invasions and the Empire lacks any air combat abilities this far from mainland Europa. So, the pilots will play a harassing role. They might have some token marine mage units but that's nothing to worry about."
"I am pleased we agree on the enemy's capabilities. Although I have my reservations about defence being that easy. The supply depot at Oslo was thought to be out of range for Imperial aircraft and look what happened to it."
"Yes, I heard. We lost enough planes protecting that place." Wright appeared unphased at any potential manpower losses. "Well, this is further north than Oslo, and better defended. You have a portion of the regional navy on standby Colonel Sue, try to have some confidence. There are worse places to be."
That they could agree on. Anywhere he had to stand in polished boots and overlook young men with rifles in hand was significantly worse than being with Mary. Instead, the words that passed by his lips thanked the Albion for his reassurance.
They swapped further details on maintaining operational status. Rations, primacy for fuel usage, anti-air capabilities, stockpiles, the monotony broken by the private return with a tray of the requested beverage. The Albion dismissed the brew with complaints while Sue tried to avoid looking at the boy for too long.
The introduction of coffee, the quality irrelevant, invited an unofficial intermission to the meeting.
"I have a friend in the Beneficiarius, he seems to think you and your men will be called down before we're far into December." Sue called back to the exchange they had when he handed over Mary's engraved gift.
It had to be divine protection that the Brigadier of honour and values came to his family's aid.
"You're making friends with those guys? You must be impossibly good at your job." Wright raised a brow. Sue could tell the man did not believe a word he said. Adding the details of their introduction felt inappropriate so Sue kept his pride in check. "They don't usually associate with outsiders of their club. 'Never to waste time' like Minister Hawkins always says in the state papers. Anyway, I wouldn't know about that."
Colonel Wright snapped at his adjutant, a file demanded and snatched away when it was produced after a frantic search. Sue gave Gunner a look when he laughed at the kid's expense.
"If we are called away, you still have the ships and planes on Smøla island. If you need to, you can order all fighter aircraft there to come here to support the base." He showed the file of reports on training and the equipment imported from the Unitary. "If they are the only planes at your disposal, they'll give the Empire a hell of a fight."
Sue barely registered the insignificant blur of words, numbers and aeroplane designs. It was another fluttery example of the wasteful war he had to fight for the sake of protecting Mary. They would hold on if attacked, that was the important fact to remember alongside why he fought in the first place.
"I hope so Colonel."
23/11/1924/ Norden Territory, Germanic Empire / Imperial Costal Observation Post / 15:49
Gabriel peered through the binoculars at the planes on the horizon. The intervention was relegated to speaking firmly into a radio mouthpiece when necessary. "Wendy one. You are drifting too far starboard. Over." The static voice confirmed the transmission and adjusted its course above the waterline.
From the lookout post Gabriel had a near-perfect point to observe and if necessary, modify the drill to ensure all were capable. The plan was remarkably simplistic. The initial strike could be done by a torpedo strike, while the remaining enemy forces in a functional state would be hit by the mages. They did not necessarily need to destroy the fleet, only cripple them to ensure naval supremacy for the Empire. Simultaneously, Major Degurechaff would attack the main fortifications at Osfjord and clear the way for the landing party.
Gabriel had to internally scold himself while he watched. It was a net positive the unit could function without him. Regrettably but not unexpectedly, it statically confirmed he was useless. He always knew it was for the best. Since his deployment in the north, he had to spend several hours each day in a dreary hospital to receive medicinal magic for his arm. The continuous invitation of unpleasant memories was more tolerated when secure in the knowledge only he suffered.
He pulled the hood of his great coat down further as he descended into the cavern of his mind. Lest Mr. Brown sees the scowl he would form when contemplating the topic.
The queen must have known, she was too smart to be so ignorant. A private physician could have been employed or temporarily restationed to the airfield. While money was not infinite Her Majesty was not unwilling to benefit those in her favour. Now Gabriel knew he was not one of them. There was a logical conclusion with the accumulated evidence: Annabelle wanted him to go into a hospital. It was a message, a reminder of what he always knew. He was and always had been replaceable.
She could hold his head in her hands as she wanted. One more step out of line and he would be gone. A fate worse than dying on the battlefield. He had dispatched one child-abusing sinner and could reign in more if he had more time. The continued weight his mind put on the matter implied a burning need to sustain the idealism. Alternative thoughts were unwelcomed as they would not produce more justifiable wrath upon those who incited it. From the battlefield he could level punishment upon those that stood against God and the Commonwealth, it was a gifted responsibility he could never forgo. No matter the subtle threats he received, there was more work to do.
At least acute threats were his burden alone. Gabriel knew the driver that carted him to the small image of hell only suffered from boredom. The majority of the time it was his pilot and the 27th resident storyteller. Mr. Brown was repaid for his efforts by being allowed to drive highly coveted Imperial staff cars to satiate his love of machinery. Each ride to and from the airfield had the pilot overjoyed.
When they started drills, Mr. Brown alternated daily with Peggie's pilot Mr. Moley as driver and radio operator. In theory, both men would have allotted time in the sky while their mages were out of action. In practice, Gabriel got to experience William Brown's antics and Arnold Moley's political theories on alternating days.
"So what do you think of something like this?"
William drew out his latest pitch onto his notepad and held it up for viewing. Gabriel glanced away from the squadron to form an honest answer.
"The Lord gave us the authority to trample on snakes, I dislike the idea of having one painted on our plane."
William sighed but resigned to the radio kit he was supposed to operate. Not content to let the topic putter out he muttered his input.
"I still miss our first Wendy. The old girl was smooth, she could convert any man to a pilot." William balled his fists in the excitement of the memory. "The things I'd do to get inside her one last time."
"I beg you to choose your words more carefully Mr. Brown." Gabriel raised the mouthpiece back into place. "Good formation everyone. Regroup for a final practice run. The day can end on a positive note." Gabriel cut the line to continue the private conversation. "There is no explicit need to decorate the plane. Our last one was far from a remarkable piece of art."
"Three years in the same plane and that's all you have to say about it, Mr. Stuart?" Mr. Brown seemed to have legitimate pain from the answer.
Three years of active duty and spine-shattering training. Three kilometres in the air in a contraption held together by metal frames, flammable coloured canvas and government contracts. The machine that suspended him above Afrika and Anatolia in the hot sun as a large target for enemy aircraft.
Yes, he had strong feelings for that infernal thing. His only wish would be to destroy it himself instead of crashing it outside of Jerusalem.
But the vehicular enthusiast that was Mr. Brown deserved a better answer than Gabriel's honesty.
"I hold no strong emotions. However, that does not allow for idolatry or to disrespect Christ."
There was a brief pause in the discussion. The biplanes got out status and were preparing for the final run. Meanwhile Mr. Brown drew aimless circles on his notebook while vocalising an accusation.
"I wonder from time to time if you're the one behind the rule against drawing pin-up girls up on aircraft."
"We shall not promote sin while carrying out our duty to the Lord."
"I didn't hear no."
Gabriel shifted his gaze away from the suspicions of his pilot.
"Her Majesty would not need me of all people to inspire common sense."
"So hypothetically speaking, if Her Majesty had thought drawing girls with a bit of skin and leg showing was alright. What would you do?"
Gabriel contemplated the scenario silently for a moment. "Then it would be my responsibility to fill the void of reasoning through a strongly worded letter or official inquiry to unit cohesion returned. Although I doubt, I would be the only one to voice complaints about objectifying the human image."
"Alright. So no good-looking women. Do you have any ideas, Mr. Stuart?"
"What about a crucifix?"
William sighed, followed by a groan that lead into his next sentence.
"There's enough crosses in the world as is. I want to be unique, to have a little personality. I've seen three different crosses since I woke up this morning, I can make it four if you take out your necklace."
"But I proposed a crucifix. It's different from those crosses you speak of." Gabriel's mouth curled upwards as he extracted another groan from Mr. Brown.
"I forgot you can be clever when you want to be Mr. Stuart." The sarcasm was not lost on Gabriel.
"I have my moments."
"I'm starting to see why drawing women is so popular, it's easier to fight over a big chest or a big bum." Mr. Brown laid his crossed arms on the table next to the radio set. A new smug look grew across the pilot's face.
"Do I dare to ask what you are thinking of now?"
"What do you prefer? You're old enough so I can ask you now. I thought I would have figured it out by now, sharing quarters with a lad going through puberty and all."
The implications turned Gabriel away from answering or understanding what was being asked of him. He bit his tongue to keep the initial vile comment in place.
"I thought I told you to choose your vocabulary with more wisdom. What would your girlfriend back in Aquilonia think of you if she heard that question?"
"Well, you've seen her photo, she'd be happy I was thinking of her twice as much." William devolved into snickering. Gabriel had started to understand what Mr. Brown was doing with his choice of words.
"So to view womanhood as matters of the flesh is the point of relationships? That is an interesting interpretation."
"Relax Mr. Stuart; there's no harm in poking fun at each other."
"I know you are attempting to be humorous, so long as it does not become practice or thought."
"Well, I'll figure out which of the two you prefer eventually. It's only a matter of time, you spend all your free time with Miss Pierre and she's coming back today. I just need to see which part of her you stare at more."
"That is not to your benefit. Peggie has neither attribute in abundance."
The comment took a moment to register for Mr. Brown. Once he understood the implications, he erupted into laughter. Although crude, Gabriel had to indulge himself, even if spurred on by his pilot.
23/11/1924 / Norden Territory, Germanic Empire / Imperial Airfield, vehicle and storage depot / 17:20
"Finally. You have a lot of nerve to make me wait."
Major Tanya Degurechaff muttered to herself, relieved the small staff car pulled finally pulled into the airfield's makeshift parking lot. The endless woods beyond the airfield had become an interchangeable mesh to her mind and the return of the Lieutenant brought a welcome change. She pushed herself off the makeshift chair of a wooden crate and prepared for another review with her benefactor. He was already running late to the unscheduled meeting that existed in her unofficial itinerary.
It had been routine for the past week for Gabriel to arrive shortly after the planes landed on the tarmac. Today, she left her adjutant with the paperwork as soon as the engines became audible, keen to exploit the goodwill of her regal one-armed benefactor. Officially, it was under the guise of confirming the training regimen of the 27th for the upcoming operation. Unofficially, it got her out of the cramped office and into the company of the useful lieutenant.
The hooded figure waved at her when the car pulled into an empty spot. She waited for the driver to bid farewell and scurry away so she could have the Lieutenant to herself. In due time the boy had approached, the damaged arm hidden as a lump under his winter coat.
"Lieutenant Stuart, you can be a hard man to find." The Lieutenant remained silent, answering with a salute rather than replying to her welcoming wit. He was obviously keen to deal with the formalities before dealing in pleasantries. Even if he was sporting a shadow of facial hair that stuck out from his otherwise perfect maintenance. There were more important matters to get to anyway. "How are your men, Lieutenant?"
He excused himself to return to the staff car, a clipboard retrieved and handed over without further ceremony.
"The squadron has passed the simulations without flaw. I can conclude from both the previous day's exercises and those of this morning that we are prepared. I will confess it is an easier task to undergo a simulation compared to the actual attack." The clipboard was filled with numbers and names – much of it appeared to be measurements of speed, distance and other categories that glossed over her eyes. The signature of His Highness' conformation was enough to convince her – it was not her risk or responsibility to endure.
"Very well. Your training has done wonders, sir." A compliment was never amiss. Unfortunately, the Lieutenant did not acknowledge her thoughtful input. It was commendable he achieved an adequate conclusion when he had to visit a doctor each day.
"I believe Major Hanover clarified it best. The pilots would not be here if they were unable to operate under all conditions. I am relieved to have an updated formal document once again."
The Lieutenant made a small look of pride as he held the document, his mouth almost curled into an unsettling smile. It reminded her of a look one of her fellow orphans would make when they presented a drawing to one of Sister Amelia. A child excited to show their mediocre product to someone that had significance. It was all overshadowed by the lump under his coat that signified the injured right arm.
"At the risk of being impolite." Tanya locked her eyes on the Lieutenant to convey the doubt she could not overtly say to a benefactor. For safety, she led him out of earshot from the others in the hanger. "Do you think you will be ready to lead the attack?"
The proud face slowly sunk. His clipboard was wedged back under his arm, Thankfully, he understood the intended implications. "The medical mage says my limb will be stable for the day in question. If I must, I will cut myself from these restraints. However, the last time I was deployed on a mission we lost a plane. I pray that will not be repeated."
"I admire the dedication to the work." If only he saw the true value of medical leave. The boy must have felt pressure to stay at work, any sane person would. The commendable work ethic was ripe to be exploited.
"I saw the Rhine first hand. It concerns me how useless the situation renders the 27th. If we cannot do our duty to God and the Commonwealth, we are useless. Hence, we must do our duty in the North."
Tanya weighed the Lieutenant's statement in her mind. It was a dramatization of the standard reaction green recruits had to modern war. He might be right on a technical level but there was more leeway in his assessment than Gabriel might have realised.
"You shouldn't concern yourself with the Rhine, Lieutenant. It will do you no good." The Lieutenant remained silent to let her legitimise the position. "You will get used to it. You'll survive a modified doctrine for the planes, or if they are suspended temporarily."
"That assumption might work in theory. However, the unit is trained with equipment and drills designed for planes."
"Like the free markets, we will naturally adapt. Mages are always in high demand. Your mother already told me your navy has been stripped of marine mages to reinforce your enclave on the Rhine." This was starting to drag on. Why could Gabriel not accept the notion and agree with her? It would make the day incrementally easier for her.
"I do not doubt your honesty, Major. Forgive me if I do not believe the authenticity of the conclusion. I spent much of my youth reading history books." Tanya was unsurprised by that revelation. "There has been immense destruction before at Waterloo, Hastings, Cannae, Towton, the Catalaunian Plains. It is astonishing that we now bear witness to a new atrocity."
Then he closed with a line that made her panic. "I mourn that you can tolerate it Major. It is not right, it never will be."
Tanya swallowed, she had to recover from this. The Lieutenant could not continue with the belief that she was deranged. Her promotion would be to a mental institution rather than a desk in Berun.
"I prefer to look at it as adapting. I was last stationed there before the War Collage, it undoubtedly changed and will need to be relearned. I met Lieutenant Serebryakov there as a recruit, what do you make of her now?"
"Is it relevant to the topic?"
"Her proficiency as a soldier is."
Gabriel mulled the answer before it was given. Carefuleful to provide the correct answer. "Miss Serebryakov appears to be a model soldier."
That she was, all a feat achieved under Tanya's command. She was unable to contain her laughter as she recounted the memories. "On her first mission, we lurked around abandoned trenches in no man's land. I found her on her knees vomiting, covered in mud and she couldn't hold a rifle straight. I have had unreliable subordinates before but seeing her wallow in the filth was pathetic. Now she is a remarkable officer and mage. I admittedly never thought she would amount to anything at the time."
Lieutenant Stuart's look hardened, rather than joining in the amusement of another's mistakes.
"While I understand the comparison, to gossip is to fall to sin. You should know better than to belittle your adjutant while she is not present to defend herself."
It was a challenge to not roll her eyes or curse Being X at His mention. Why was it an alleged sin to point out that others were beneath her? The Church had the gall to dictate what was right from wrong, at least she cited a better source than old scholars and a dead carpenter – herself.
"I wasn't aware that praising your subordinates' progress was a sin, it makes one wonders if excellence is ever rewarded in the commonwealth."
While she expected Gabriel to stutter with a new realisation that he was in the wrong. The Lieutenant was steadfast in his answer, confident in the falsehood of his religion.
"Does the Empire require that excellence is expressed with the revelation of private details? The answer does not necessitate all unfavourable aspects of Miss Serebryakov's first mission. If she wishes to share her mistakes with others, it is her decision. Your purpose was to explain the progress of Miss Serebryakov, not reveal an embarrassing moment in her past or denigrate her character. There was no explicit need to tell me."
She could press the Lieutenant further; she should berate him for talking down to her like a child. But she lacked the investment to care what another thought of the creature that tormented her. The smartest move was not to partake in the game.
Tanya nodded her head, keen on distancing herself from the general discussion of papal morality and Being X. "We can talk somewhere warmer if you are inclined." She started to move, to be stopped at the Lieutenant's refusal.
"I must decline."
"Why?"
"Lieutenant Pierre is returning today. I intend to be here upon her arrival." Gabriel answered immediately. It should be her cue to keep walking. Although – did it serve her to miss time with a benefactor and end the discussion on a foul note?
Tanya returned to her wooden crate to sulk. Lieutenant Stuart stood at attention throughout the waiting process, occasionally intermingled with nervous shuffles. Their conversations were short and uninspired. Topics ranged from worthless to unfulfilling. Gabriel saw Second Lieutenant Pierre at the Rhine, unfortunate she survived, they spoke over the phone in the intermedium. Tanya was desperate to change the conversation from that darn pest of a mage.
"Are you interested in the party tomorrow?" Tanya focused on the woods beyond the base, tired of the Lieutenant's pace the same track. It was never bad to display her benevolence as a leader. "Lieutenant Serebryakov has managed to make the modest budget stretch rather far."
"I personally fail to understand how social events can become tolerable while sober."
Tanya sympathised, the Salaryman suffered the scorns of company events and sobriety enough for two lifetimes. Regardless of personal animosity, it was a useful resource for networking and the benevolence she aspired to display.
"The best way to improve is to do. I'm sure Serebryakov wants to show off her work to as many as possible."
"All true statements Major. Yesterday Miss Serebryakov invited me to attend. However, it is more time efficient to self-medicate with wine in my quarters than to drink among company." Tanya expected as much from a boy of eighteen. The Salaryman knew of others from the demographic and had a hunch of what to say to manipulate the outcome she covenanted.
"I will make myself available, I encourage you to do the same. You can stay at the officers' table with me and Visha if you so desire." Alone with herself, a trusted subordinate and all the alcohol he could stomach. Tanya knew she was lucky the Lieutenant was prudent; she did not need to titillate the offer with questionable legality. It was an amusing world where she could order men to their deaths but could not instruct her adjunct to flirt for the sake of promotion. It would be unfortunate to remove another's agency, but it was permissible if her free will remained intact.
"I will attend despite my reluctance. Peggie will no doubt force my hand when she arrives today." A truck pulled into the lot soon after, finally pulling Tanya's attention away from the woods.
"Speak of the devil."
"Not a devil, but I can comprehend the comparison. Especially when Peggie is in a foul mood." Tanya giggled at Gabriel's quip; it appeared the Lieutenant could have his moments of vague humour. There was hope for him yet.
The woman jumped from the truck bed before the vehicle reached its destination to unload. Tanya noticed the two bottles of what appeared to be wine hastily tucked into her rucksack. No doubt part of the shipment is intended for tomorrow evening. The Aquilonian's appearance had changed while the lacklustre character remained the same. Her hair was now tied into braids, likely because she lacked the Lieutenant who was willing to tie it back for her. The other notable difference was the unbuttoned coat regardless of the cold and snowy weather that tainted the land. Otherwise, she appeared to be the same rule-breaking menace, a competitor to be disposed of.
The Lieutenant and the girl stared for a moment. The mutual gaze froze the other without an apparent cure. It was as if Being X froze them in place. Tanya saw both smiled while in the trance, a malformed look that fit neither face. At last, the pair met halfway to silently embrace in a hug. The positive outcome to Tanya was the relative quiet, no sobs or immediate words entered the reunion of a superior officer and unkempt grunt.
"It is good to see you, Peg."
"Likewise." Tanya noticed the grip of the Aquilonian increase. It must have hurt for the Lieutenant, either he could not escape, or he was more resilient than one would initially assume. He was restricted to a singular arm so it made sense why he could not break out of the abuse.
"You're a bloody idiot Gabe."
"Likewise."
"I wrote to Ketchener for us, told her we were alright, more or less." Tanya noticed Gabriel's grip tighten further. The identity of the woman was unknown to Tanya and her interest to find out remained nonexistent. "And you need to shave Gabriel. You're starting to look like a Muscovite."
As Tanya concentrated on the pair, the rest of the world lacked the appropriate noise. The wind had stopped, the truck's engine and the men who unloaded the precious cargo moved to no sound. She rustled the hair by her ear to no effect, the sense of touch responded properly while her ears were without function. Panic set in quicker than she would like to admit. The disabled veterans of the previous world wars were pitiable, and importantly, resigned to begging for scraps. Few were employed in respectable rear positions.
Then, without ceremony or an immediate source, a noise pierced her ears. A single song fluttered into Tanya's consciousness. A melody that was neither new nor remembered. It was a tune that immediately took her out of the setting. Unconsciously parting through the snow towards the perfect music that entranced her.
Tanya could recognise the instrument anywhere, as did the Salaryman. The melody of a Japanese fue was euphoric regardless of the universe it played in. The Salaryman had an affinity for the old bamboo instrument, his sole focus for progress had minor detours for tradition so long as it could be useful. A piece of old woodwind music that ensnared bliss was such an exception.
She walked further towards the trees, the desire to follow it into the woods was immense but a realisation stopped in the snow. The rationality for this was non-existent, and unfortunately, the unexplainable had only one logical answer to consider.
A perfect piece of music could only be corrupted by Being X.
The false deity was here, as He always said. He stuck around her to mock her successful attempts to resist Him.
"Major Degurechaff?" it was a voice, Lieutenant Stuart's had broken through the silence and startled her. The world returned to normal and the elegant fue regrettably stopped playing for her ears.
She pried her eyes off the treeline to the motley pair behind her. Second Lieutenant Pierre still clung to her commanding officer. Lieutenant Stuart remained trapped but had evidently called to her. The strange behaviour could not be explained. The best she could muster was an animal moving along the tree line, no semblance of the truth could be provided. Then she made her escape back into the base before the Lieutenant could ask another question. The hatred for the haunting noise made her resolve to run away outlast the desire to hear more. Being X was getting clever, He nearly had her enticed with sounds she once loved. Only now His involvement meant the treasured memories of the past were not safe from foreign interference.
Under her breath, Tanya muttered a final warning under her breath to this mortal enemy.
"If you show yourself again Being X, I promise I will shoot you myself."
23/11/1924 / Berun, Germanic Empire / General Staff Headquarters, Exterior / 21:11
Lieutenant Colonel Erich von Rerugen attempted to organise the rampant thoughts in his mind. With the North's winter offensive fully underway, the situation had to be monitored and altered each day. The barely manageable workload was a challenge for all involved, now he had to lug more work back home. As if he lacked ample stress in his life. His mind and the walk home were interrupted by General Zettour sitting alone on a bench.
"Lieutenant Colonel." Zettour chimed when we were in earshot. His gaze shifted from the invisible point in the distance to him. "I see you're treating your mistress to a walk in the park."
It was a bewildering statement. A snow-laden private garden attached to the General Staff Headquarters was a poor location for a sit-down or a date, never mind they were alone. The short mystery was seen through when Rerugen's hand brushed against his satchel ladened with documents."
"Yes, very clever sir." He patted his leather bag for good measure. The general continued his rant aggrandising and criticising the alleged date.
"It's easy when you don't try to hide it. You should work on that, you're not getting any younger and us old men can do with new gossip material."
"I appreciate the advice, sir."
"What is to be analysed so far?"
"Reports from the 203rd regarding the attack on the Legadonia. There have been numerous requests for additional resources to be allocated. I want to confirm if it is necessary or if it would warrant the unnecessary risk." The unsaid portion regarded the enemy – the Empire needed to win the battle, not raze the land as a prelude to genocide.
"I see." Zettour resumed peering into the distance. He directed him to sit down beside him. "You're still concerned with Major Degurechaff's trustworthiness."
"In a technical sense, no. I highly doubt she will defect to the Commonwealth or Republic if given the chance. It is her nature that is of concern."
"A monster in the body of a little girl." Zettour quoted his sentiment back to him, with his old words no less. "During peace, there is a thin line between fanaticism and insanity. While at war it is further blurred."
They were silent for a moment. Rerugen decided to find something closer to the situation without editing himself as being only capable of fretting on a single, blonde-haired issue.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, sir." It was the proper way to converse with a superior in an informal environment.
"Von Hans opened a bottle of Frankish wine his eldest daughter in the Abwehr sent over. The cold can do wonders to quell temptation."
"It's good to see our intelligence agency has enough resources to be charitable." Rerugen spoke before the words could be bitten back. Zettour was chuffed, twisting his muscles in what could plausibly resemble a smile. A rare sight for the General Staff's resident stoic.
The Vice Admiral deserves some compensation. The request we put in to find the Legadonian fleet is worth some extra wine."
Then they were back to the insidious Major, Rerugen felt his stomach start to turn in on itself. Zettour inadvertently contributed to that discomfort.
"General von Rudersdorf told me she figured out the plan right there in front of you two. It must have been a sight to behold."
"She was the only one to devise the plan through deduction alone. She insisted we present the same plan to the Albions and they still didn't figure it out. The prince had only devised we were hiding information, not the nature of the operation."
"Another point of pride for the Empire. I'm certain the joint operation will prove its value soon enough."
Zettour had the certainty of a man whose plan had already succeeded. It felt unbecoming of an Imperial general. He was already a man respected as the stoic of the General Staff, but now one might think he was making up the plan as the situation changed. Rerugen remembered how easily his superior accepted the Major's proposal. It invited healthy speculation at best and less than respectful alternatives.
"Sir. Why were you eager to approve of the combined operations force?" It felt awkward for Rerugen to ask but he doubted there would be another chance to remove the weight of speculation.
"Do you believe it was a mistake to do so?" Zettour had no reservations or doubt about his position.
"No sir." It was an honest answer. "I have unconfirmed suspicion this is another gain from the Commonwealth."
Zettour nodded. "Almost certainly. There doesn't seem to be an angle that queen doesn't cover. I can see why Prince Josef is so anxious about her. However, that does not exclude us from benefitting in the meantime. We struck the Oslo depot with their assistance, and it is saving us a hassle."
"There is something else sir." Rerugen knew he was testing the acceptable
"How experienced with women are you, Lieutenant Colonel?" The general did not flinch, it was a serious question.
"Sir?" Zettour only repeated the question in place of an exclamation. "It has been a while since my last relationship, approximately five years. She always said I worked too much." In retrospect, she was no doubt right.
"When I met my wife, I had the strongest, indescribable feeling. It was blissful but frightening. I was in an intense panic while my body was at complete peace. I think the only feeling to surpass it was when our children were born. But I would never have got to that point if I was unable to act on that initial feeling."
"So, it was instinct that led you to approve of the combined unit." It was moderately surprising for Rerugen to hear. Zettour was one of the least reactionary men he knew.
"It is the most important attribute an officer can have and the trait we can never train."
Rerugen remembered the note on top of the collected information for the 27th Mechanized Mage Wing. Deus Vult.
"Divine intervention?"
"It's possible. It would make sense." The good Lord always moves in mysterious ways to those of us that cannot see the full picture. If He wants the Albions partnered with the 203rd I cannot foresee why."
It was not an invitation for further speculation, neither was it disapproval for Rerugen to do such.
"If that was true. Then we really would have God on our side."
"They always say that. I have my reservations that God has invested in the politics of the Empire or the Republic. "My kingdom is not of this world" as said to Pilate."
"I suppose your right." Rerugen rubbed his brow, frustrated with the immediate confusion in the theory. They could sit on the bench all night and never come close to a sound answer. A lingering factor did stick out in his mind amid the sea of motives "Then why involve the 27th?"
"The Albion prince met the major when she was a cadet officer. I thought you of all people would celebrate a positive influence on Major Degurechaff."
"It is equally likely she will be a corrupting influence on His Highness." Now he said the quiet part aloud. A crackpot theory for Zettour alone that would dissipate once they left the bench
"It is possible; however, I believe you should be more optimistic." Zettour took a deep breath, internally prepared for the next line he felt necessary.
"I remember seeing the Major at the Vatican conference with Her Highness and the Albion prince. Princess Regina requested her by name for the arranged date. I only had a glimpse in between meetings but she looked…tempered. She was focused entirely on the mission. She was ready for a fight in the most secure region in Europe. All to protect one the emperor's daughter and a foreigner alike. That is a dedication we cannot stand to waste, but it is also a young individual we cannot hope to emotionally control. If she has found a friend in Prince Gabriel, we are under no legal or moral obligation to suppress it. Especially in the event the Lord wants the two to remain in each other's presence."
23/11/1924/ Berun, Germanic Empire / Abwehr Office, Vice Admiral Canaris' Office / 21:20
Vice Admiral Fredrich Canaris knew when he was being played for a fool. The correspondence on his desk was a textbook case that rendered him the losing party.
And he had no choice other than to play along.
The General Staff had politely demanded information on the Entente Navy, a simple if unnecessarily complex task. He had a contact within range of the indicated point for the invasion and requested covert scouting. As compensation, they requested an inflated sum in return for a film reel of the ships in the Ostfjord region.
A five-year salary in gold bullion for a home movie featuring boats. It was insulting, demeaning. It made his blood boil to think he had to bow down to a darn fool. It should always be the lowly grunt that served the empire and the intelligence offices that upheld the state.
He called for his secretary. He was supposed to be in control. Yet in this instance, he had to bid for the free will of a lesser being. How was he to keep the corrupt dogs of the Empire on a leash if a peasant – no, a thief – if a thief could get the better of him?
There always had to be some pest hazarding the stability of the Empire. Someone demanding too much from him or conniving a plan to expand the cancer of corruption for their benefit. There was always a fool that resisted the strings they were supposed to wear.
He shouted for his secretary, his fist slamming against the desk to quell his frustrations. The thing rushed in immediately after.
"Lock the door and pour me a drink." The thing did as she was told, no longer hesitant to obey a direct order.
He despised engaging in this reward in his workspace. They usually kept the l'aisance to her shoddy apartment or his house when it was devoid of the wife. In a case of extreme stress, he would relent and let the girl get onto her knees or bend over across his desk.
He told her what to do as she opened a new bottle. Canaris pretended that look she made was invisible, it was to him anyway. The Empire did not stop for the mournful look of one girl and neither would he.
"When we're done, I will need your assistance transferring a shipment of gold to an agent in Scandinavia. The main Danish bank branch should have the necessary metal."
The secretary yipped affirmation. A well-taught subordinate that did as told without question. Canaris wished his wife would be that perfect.
It would all be worth it, just one more day and he could start his next ensnarement. Tomorrow Princess Rachel would be visiting his house, then it would only be a matter of time before he had his deserved rewards.
His secretary handed him the glass and he snapped it out of her grip. He already consumed half the liquid when the thing was on her knees. If only it was Rachel down there. A portion of her face behind the length of black hair, a strand he could grab onto as a handle if she went too slow. Ruth had short hair too. It would be a proper reward if Rachel and Ruth were down there now, all three bent at the knees or waist doing what they were good for. That would be fantasy worthy of more photos.
Perhaps that was the reason the photos were created. The product of a whore in love with the pleasures of servitude. The limited agents he had in the Commonwealth found no leads or irregularities among the royal family – although that was to be expected. Whatever the purpose of the creation of the photos it would get the Empire what it needed and what he rightfully deserved.
Canaris sharply inhaled, taken by surprise and nearly fumbling his drink. The stress from the thought of being another puppet began to fade.
Tomorrow, he would have the princess tomorrow. The Empire would get a reliable source of information on the Commonwealth and Canaris would get what was rightfully owed to him.
A/N:
Hello all. I hope the chapter was worth the wait.
I am putting this out later than I wanted, a sentiment I find increasingly common. Unfortunately, I had a streak of busy work weeks, writer's block and attending Anime North in July. Better late than never I suppose, although it increasingly feels like never is indeed a possibility (even though it isn't). The worst part was there was no Youjo Senki content, or merchandise at the convention. I don't know if it really was worth the trip now, lol. I did get to laugh at my friend getting his photo taken with nearly every cosplay outfit that weekend. I wonder if we were asked to attend (read: told to go) so we could be his photographers. Worth it at the end of the day.
I find it nice to write about the general staff again, especially without the war being the topic.
I intended to pair this with chapter twenty as previously stated, however, I feel internally pressured (and externally by one of my betas) to post what I have. The original idea was to have the music and follow-up at the same time. Personally, I still believe they can go together if not for the other contents and setup. The other option is to ditch all the set up and jump into the scene and the action but that's a foundation of sand. I will admit this is an alternative I prefer. We know where everyone is and what is going on in the story aside from the books/manga/anime.
On that note, the second chapter is being reviewed and will be up when it has gone through processing. I am releasing this now since I will be away camping this upcoming weekend and unable to work. Hence it is more efficient to post this now.
The important notes about the chapter(s) will be attached to chapter twenty, hence why this is mostly an apology and update.
I am genuinely sorry that I can't do these faster. I love to interact with readers and work on this story. Especially following my plans for after Scandinavia. That odd gap in the canon timeline should be fun to read and it has especially been fun to write the small portions I already have. Regardless, I cannot express how thankful I am for those who stick with the story to this point and beyond. We made it over one-hundred followers which scares me a bit. I will do my best to pay back the investment of time with a worthwhile story.
Thanks for reading. God be with you all.