The Purpose of Conflict

by Vickers-Vimy-1919

Forced into war, the Empire fights enemies on all sides. Their only ally in the time of crisis, the exiled Kingdom of Albion, seeking strength to restore the crumbling Commonwealth and return to the Home Isles. For Tanya, she finds an ally in the exiled Prince Gabriel. Unsure of his or the Commonwealth's true intentions for the war, the Empire, or herself.

1. Ch 1: The Sky above the Dardanelles I

The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter One- The Sky above the Dardanelles I

18/10/1914/ Outside Imperial Capital Berun, Germanic Empire / Saint Raphael Orphans' Home 06:55

Sunlight from the window crept through the transparent curtains, sending coloured streaks of light onto its inhabitants and rows of worn-out cots that filled the room. The Nursery was rarely at full occupancy but was nevertheless disheartening for the nuns and volunteer help. Every newborn under their care was a tragedy, a living creature deprived of familial stability or a love that could only come from a parental figure. Those responsible for the child's existence served to enhance the sorrow of the situation. Deceased, incompetence or disinterest, the purpose for their absence weaved into the identity of the child left in the care of strangers.

To Sister Amalia, the third option was the worst. She had lived a long life in service to God and these children, hearing every feasible story in the process. Death was a natural part of existence, unavoidable for all of God's creatures yet feared by most. Their country had a steady need for soldiers for consumption in war. Their lives, though honoured, would inevitably lead to widows and children without parents. Deadly disease was also a factor in making orphans destined for her care. That killer of men was more numerous when she was without wrinkles or mild arthritis. Now it was accidents and occasional conflict that led to children becoming fatherless.

She could sympathise with a parent's inability to raise their offspring, an ability gained with her age. Poverty was symptomatic of industrialization, placing a child up for adoption was preferable to letting it starve. Some families lacked any alternative, making their judgment of events justifiable. She had met women that were unable to care for their child's safety. Disability, grief, mental absence; whatever their affliction she was thankful to God that they remained wise enough to admit to their limitations and try to do what was best for their child.

While her faith forced her to believe only Eternal sin was unforgivable, what she could never come to terms with was a parent's disdain for their inherited role. While rare, she was livid whenever she read or saw a mother or father who wished to simply abandon their child onto the Orphanage.

To dispose of life in an effortless motion that would benefit yourself was unacceptable. To rank your wellbeing above another was already immoral, to do so to someone dependent upon you should be unforgivable.

Sister Amalia knew the frustration she felt would only hamper her responsibilities as a caretaker. These children were reliant on the adults until they came of age. Every morning, the babies were dependent on the nuns to feed them until they could do so themselves.

She looked over at the cot of their newest member to the Church. As if aware of the incoming attention, she could hear the infant starting to stir in. Its little grunts for food and affection growing louder as she walked closer to the crib.

"Good morning Tanya."

The little girl seemed to reply in earnest, her chubby arms reaching up, begging for further love. Amalia chuckled to herself and complied to the demands of the newborn, twirling a strand of Tanya's blond hair, then snuggly holding her in one arm, her mushy breakfast in the other.

Despite her complaints, this responsibility was fulfilling. Any position in service to the Lord would be.

"Someone must be hungry today." She spoke again to the baby. The other Nuns had already started attending to the other children but, Tanya had her undivided concentration.

She moved to the window and placed the bowl of food down on the wooden ledge.

"Another beautiful morning in God's own Country. Isn't it, Tanya?"

To Amalia's amusement, the baby answered with more garble. She raised a spoonful to Tanya's mouth, immediately met with protest resulting in more of the mixture getting on her cheeks instead of her mouth.

"Now now, Tanya. It's not the time to be picky." She scooped the food back into her mouth with a newly found compliance from the baby. "That's better."

Perhaps some objection was understandable, the Orphanage's funds would recover eventually and then they could get better food. She looked back out the window for a moment, still talking to Tanya as if she could completely understand her.

"We can't raise you to be picky in a world like this, little one. The times are changing." She put the spoon down and positioned Tanya to look out the window with her, at the warm sun and green fields that spread indefinitely across the continent of Europa. "We need you to be strong Tanya, so one day you can help protect the gifts given to us by the Lord."

Tanya stuttered out a cry at her words, maybe she could understand the weight of what Amalia told her. Perhaps this child already wanted to fulfil God's will in their country. That would be a delightful thought. It was more likely Tanya was more interested in being fed at that moment.

Refilling the spoon, Sister Amelia put more mush into Tanya's belly. These children, even though given an unfortunate start to life, they could all change the world one day. She would ensure they were all raised to the best of the Orphanage's ability. She knew that God was watching over them no matter the path they took, including little Tanya as she reluctantly accepted the food provided to her.

"We'll make sure you grow into a fine Lady one day."

08/10/1906/ Imperial Capital Saint Peters, Tsardom of Muscovy / Serebryakov Residence 17:07

"How is our little Angel?" Ull leaned over the back of the couch to hover over his wife. In her arms, wrapped in a blanket was the creature in question, Viktoriya. Sleeping peacefully despite the shouts of protesters outside.

Natasha looked up to meet her husband's stubble, strands of his brown hair hung down onto her shorter blonde hair. He still wore his winter coat and cap, too engrossed in his wife and child to disrobe at the front door. Flakes of snow idly fell onto her, earning a mild protest. Wanting to be free of the relentless cold that plagued her country, she politely ordered him away. Ull responded by coming around to her side of the furniture and attempting to kiss her forehead. A ploy to simultaneously press his cold hands onto her cheeks.

Natasha quietly shrieked at the temperature. Unable to resist Ull's play since their baby still slept soundly in her arms. Instead, she resorted to laughter while attempting to wiggle away from her husband.

"Stop it, you'll wake up Viktoriya."

Ull quickly had his fill of loving torment and retreated after kissing his proclaimed angel in the same location Natasha received hers.

"It doesn't seem fair does it? She gets to sleep soundly while the world collapses outside and keep us up at night." Ull placed his flat cap on his wife's desk, a minor way he could leave a mark in her office, intentionally resulting in her annoyance. From her comfortable furnishing, Natasha gave her standard look of expected frustration.

At times she believed herself to be the only to utilize hangers and hat racks in their household. The object's existence was mute to Ull as he threw his coat across the room to land next to her, the act of meagre mess-making intended primarily for his entertainment.

Since Natasha's maternity leave, the couches and coffee table in her office became requisitioned for Ull's clothing. Only when a superior or associate was to visit could she be confident she would have a tidy work environment. Whenever it was under the conditions of professionality, however, the office felt lacking to Natasha. The moniker of official business seemed unworthy when it included an old lieutenants or mage instructors, usually divulging into gossip, congratulations, and gift-giving.

Natasha looked over to the silhouette in her office chair, cast by the dwindling sun sneaking through the city streets and entering through the window.

"Enjoying the chair?" She twirled her words to try and tease Ull in the same fashion he had mastered.

"I am. It almost makes me want to enlist so I can get my own office, maybe outrank you while I'm at it, Captain." Ull picked up a pen and motioned it towards Natasha as if to tap her on the nose if not separated by distance. Natasha scoffed at his hubris claim.

"Perhaps you can outrank me in your Empire, but not here. You would be down to your bones after your first company flight through a blizzard."

"That's because in the Empire we have something called the wheel. So, we don't need to worry about flying in snowstorms." Natasha readjusted Viktoriya in her arms, commenting on her husband's audacity.

"Besides," She started again. "Who would run the shop while your off playing officer with me?"

Ull went back to waving the pen, its target changing this time. "Perhaps we'll have to wait until this one is old enough to pick up the mantel."

Satisfied with his conclusion Ull returned the pen to a stack of opened letters. The header of the first sheet catching his eye and bringing back the audio of the protests outside.

"That's three this week. The army must really want you back."

Natasha sighed, still frustrated with the climate that made her the recipient of these letters. The same disdain that made the streets fill with discontented people wanting change.

"It's the war in the Far East. I don't think anyone expected the Akitsians to be this much of a drain, not even the Tsar." Natasha shook her head, gaze naturally drawn to the baby as she muttered out more words.

Ull leaned back in his wife's chair, groaning before continuing. "All this over a few ports. The Akitsushima Dominion already conquered the whole of Daqin and pushed out the Commonwealth, what's to stop them from taking the entire east? Muscovy is in a losing fight."

"Don't talk like that. I don't want Viktoriya to learn pessimism from you." Natasha pulled the baby into her to faint the motion of blocking her ears. "The Akitsians only bested the Commonwealth on land, rarely at sea. The navy needs to get an advantage then they're cut off from home."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Well," Natasha pretended to cover the baby's ears again, making Ull chuckle. He thought to himself how Viktoriya would inevitably learn her espionage skills from her mother. "When my old Captain visited yesterday, he confided in me. His mage battalion is being assigned to a volunteer Commonwealth fleet from Albion. It will take time to get there since the Magna Rumeli won't let them through Suez, but they will turn the tide back in our favour."

Ull grunted, a hand rubbing the stubble on his face. The old lion that was the Commonwealth had been wounded in recent years, but not enough to dampen the fire.

"Maybe you should tell that mob out there, try and calm them down before they get the idea to start looting." He pointed over his shoulder at the window where the distant shouts could still be heard.

Ull noticed the demeanour of his wife shift when he mentioned the chaos outside.

"I've meant meaning to ask you something." Ull leaned forward instinctively, propped up by his elbows on the desk. He asked what she needed.

"Can you write to your sister in the Empire for me. In case you and Viktoriya need to leave the country for a while." Natasha's stare drifted to the world outside of the window for a second. "I don't want her growing up in fear for her life."

Ull got up and wandered around the floor behind the desk. "I thought you had faith in the navy."

"I do I do, but I also have a duty to my country and the Tsar Ull. I thought you would understand but-" Natasha's glanced back down at the cause for her concern. Ull cut her off.

"I've sacrificed enough to build myself here, for you Natasha." His annoyance bled into the dialogue. "If you want us to leave, fine." His hand waved up in the air before falling back down to his side. "We can rebuild whatever we leave behind. But I'm not letting you stay here."

Ull continued, interrupting Natasha for a second time, uninterested in debating this topic.

"I'm not raising Viktoriya without her mother."

As if on cue the shouting outside was disrupted by rifle fire, followed by panicked screams from the crowd.

Natasha was instantly on her feet and moving away from the window, instinctively shielding her baby from any phantom bullets that could break through the glass. Viktoriya was awake and crying to her tiny lung's capabilities.

Ull was at the window and trying to find any details among the mob. The mass of bodies moved as one, all running away from a single point out of sight. That point of interest indicated through repeated gunfire that was likely slaying whatever target they hit.

He pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the sun and plunging the room into and its inhabitants into further darkness.

"I guess I'll get started on that letter."

11/12/1907/ Londinium, Imperial Commonwealth Capital / Kingston Palace 19:40

There was a knock at the office door. Annabelle recoiled slightly, already focused on her sleeping baby and the white light reflected off the moon over the gardens. Her husband had called out to permit entry. Scarcely looking up from his paperwork strewed over his desk. The stylized entranced opened, Annabelle looked over her shoulder to see who was interrupting the couples' silence.

It was one of their maids, the newest recruit for the Palace. Her inexperience unintentionally on display with a mild hint of fear in her eyes and hesitation in her walk.

A lonesome lamb left stranded in the cave of two imperial lions.

George had forgone his princely attire for an unvarnished suit at the late hour. Annabelle knew royalty could have that effect of intimidation, including when one was without a tie and the other down to an insignificant skirt and blouse. It gave off the impression of an unacceptable peek behind the curtain.

She bid her curtsy to George in front of his desk.

"Your Highness."

Turning to the Queen and repeating the same motion, clutching a folder to her chest.

"Your Majesty."

Annabelle walked from the window to stand behind the desk, standing over her seated husband and the shorter woman. She continued to coddle her child while the formalities went on.

"Report from Muscovy."

She placed the folder on the desk for and bowed, remaining silent while George picked up the papers and his wife reading over his shoulder. The maid patiently waited for further instructions or her dismissal from the room.

Annabelle was impressed with her composure, the only hint of her nerves in the form of her thumb rubbing circles over her forefinger. The signal of another weight upon this girl's mind, one she could alleviate.

"It's Miss Sanders, correct?"

The maid confirmed her name, her shifting eyes failing to hide her surprise from the Queen.

"You have a brother in the navy, correct?"

Sanders nodded. "He was with the volunteer fleet."

Annabelle suspected that conclusion, ignoring the knot that bound in her throat while searching the desk for the relevant file.

"Do you know which ship he is stationed on Miss Sanders?" She refused to use the past tense.

The girl responded immediately. "The HMS Boston."

Annabelle found the document on the destruction of the volunteer fleet and flipped to the relevant page with one hand.

Annabelle lifted the veil of formalities for a moment. She was not the head of state or an employer addressing her staff. It was her responsibility to serve her subjects in any way she reasonably could. "I'm happy to say no dreadnoughts were lost this time. There is no Sanders in the casualty report. I'm pleased to say he should be alive."

Annabelle leaned forward, handing the folder directly into the girl's hands.

The public learned of the fleet's mission after its destruction, the extent of their loss would be available when the survivors came back home. However, by birthright, her duty was to the people of the Commonwealth, not its politicians.

"The Boston is repairing in Terra Australis for now. I'm not sure when they will be back, unfortunately."

The girls face lit up while reading the classified document, returning to a timid state when she returned the file to the desk. Annabelle reminded her that this was to remain a secret for the foreseeable future. Sanders bowed and thanked her Majesty again, coinciding with the Prince standing up and passing the Muscovy folder to his wife.

"Can you have tea sent for us please."

Annabelle interjected her orders, returning to her role as a politician. "Inform the head maid to schedule a meeting with the prime minister and Foreign Office first thing tomorrow; attendance is mandatory."

Miss Sanders cupped her hands and bowed once again. "Yes Ma'am, shall I have a nurse sent to collect Master Gabriel as well?"

Annabelle looked down at her son. He woke up at some point during their discussion but looked as if he could fall asleep at any second, his eyes scarcely opening and closing as he looked up at his caregiver.

She had barely spent any time with any of her children in recent months, becoming more reliant on nannies and governesses help raise the young royals.

She wanted to be different from her ancestors and own parents by taking an active role in raising her children. Endless political turmoil now forced to savour every minute she could be in her company.

Unfortunately, young Gabriel would likely distract her and George as they continued to work.

Her attention returned to Miss Sanders. "Yes, thank you. We'll only manage to keep him up the longer we work."

The maid curtsied again before leaving, walking out backwards to ensure she did not turn her back on the royal couple.

"It seems we have a long night ahead of us." George remarked to Annabelle, rubbing his temples, and slowly walking over to the full-body windows that overlooked the gardens.

"An early morning too." Annabelle tried to rock her baby back to sleep but could only make him close his eyes for a brief second before he continued to watch her. She found it more adorable than irritating. She leaned into whisper for him. "Mommy missed you too."

She went back to looking at the folder as George went on.

"Can we commit any more forces to the civil war? The economy will be in tatters if we aren't careful."

"If the Tsar is asking for sanctuary then they have already lost to the Reds. Any more Albion troops we send will merely stem the tide; I've already gotten enough good men killed this past year."

"You can't believe that this is all your fault, Annabelle."

The Queen ignored her husband. She closed the folder and tossed it onto the desk so she could join George at the window. "I don't care what the Foreign Office claim. I'm giving them refuge."

George turned his head to look down at her.

"You're cousins. No one expects you to do otherwise, or to be anything but stubborn." He looked away, smiling, starting to fidget with his cufflinks as a distraction. "It will likely have a radicalising effect, probably give the local Communists a scare. The big bad Tsar is coming to Albion."

Annabelle let out a sigh, readjusting Gabriel who was gradually growing louder. "I'm more concerned with the Fasces party than the Reds. They've already squirmed their way into Parliament with promises they have no hope of keeping, how long until they plunge the Commonwealth into disarray."

George cut in. "Or they'll let the Communists cause as a scene, blame it on us and use it to demand more authority."

They stood silently for a moment, watching the illuminated palace gardens through the window. The scarce owls and nighttime creatures that could tolerate the snow had noticed the political climate and evacuated for the evening.

"I wonder if Gabriel will be able to play in these trees when he's older." The young Prince chirped in at the mention of his name, Annabelle knew he was too young to recognize his name and dismissed the outcry as a coincidence, continuing vocalising her inner thoughts. "I sometimes wonder if what we are doing is the best for the Commonwealth."

George lost interest in the outside world and centred on his Wife, his Queen. He hesitated, stopping himself before he could muster worthy words. "The way I think of this as containing two parts."

His arms went to her shoulders, slowly working down while softly speaking to her.

"Do you believe what we're doing here? What we did yesterday and what we do tomorrow is the best decision for the Commonwealth?" He knew Annabelle's answer but waited regardless, they both accepted her stubborn nature but knew she only acted with righteous intent. He ran his thumb over her knuckles to comfort her. Silently adjusting her hold on Gabriel to support him without endangering his neck.

"I do."

George looked down to their newest member of the family, the subject of his next question.

"And if we fail in our task, if we lose the people's trust and…" George paused, ashamed he had to reduce his son to a tool. "God forbid if the Commonwealth falls. Do you think we can raise him and the next generation to correct our mistakes?"

Annabelle felt internally conflicted over the idea of her children as conscripts to solve her problems. However, as royalty, it was their duty to serve the people, not command them from luxury.

She held Gabriel so she could kiss his cheek, bringing him up to bask in the light from the window. Some day, she and George could have to live in fear of her sons and daughters lost at sea.

For now, she could ignore the inevitable future of her children and Empire to answer the question answered in the present.

"Of course."

09/05/1923/ Dardanelles, TurkishMagna Rumeli / Forward Imperial Observation Post / 06:40

"Fairy Eight come in."

Junior Officer Tanya Degurechaff heard a faint buzz.

"Fairy Eight, come in."

Tanya groaned at her unfortunately appropriate call sign. She pushed down on the receiver with the small child's hands cursed upon her.

"This is Fairy Eight, I read you Control." She had to speak over the increasing sound of the wind and dust that blew past her hovering high above the ground.

"Do you have any sightings of hostiles? The artillery is getting antsy."

"Nothing yet Control, skies and water are clear."

"That's why the Turks are on edge. Remain in position Fairy Eight. Control out."

The faint buzzing in her ears faded out and Tanya was once again alone, a nine-year-old girl to guard the skies of a foreign nation with a rifle, computation orb and whatever long-range artillery her countrymen or the Magna Rumeli could provide. Despite the evident safety of her position, she would not deny the circumstances held some danger.

As part of Tanya's deployment training for her officer course, a section of her class were made to assist the Empire's ally as a volunteer force. Considering her presence was forced by her government; Tanya questioned if the title of a volunteer was suitable for her. If she could act on her complete free will the last place she would be was a warzone as an artillery observer.

In theory, she could call in a bombardment before anything on the ground could inflict harm. In practice, she was exposed to aircraft and fellow mages, restrained to an order of firing only in self-defence, meaning the enemy could get the drop on her. All the while barred from escape due to the artillery's reliance on her.

Tanya unhinged her canteen and tolerated a mouthful of metallic tasting water. In her other hand a pair of binoculars that only showed cloudy skies and a boat free shoreline. She had already been in the air for hours; one remained in her shift until she could leave and sneak back into her uncomfortable cot.

Tanya interpreted the volunteer status as a reflection for how she came into this new world.

"This is all Being X's fault." She grumbled to herself, rubbing the heavy sensation from her eyes. In her first life, Tanya had been a salaryman in the economically prosperous nation of Japan. Then she was cursed to be an orphan girl in a militaristic nation colloquially known as the Empire.

It was the desperation of her birth that drove her into the embrace of a military career, desiring to climb the ranks as an officer rather than become conscripted for her magical aptitude. While Tanya did value her freedom as an individual highly, it played second to basic survival. She could stomach the armies if they kept the same organ filled.

These trials were because of a self-proclaimed god, Being X. He was disappointed in her lack of faith and sought to punish her in a way that would rekindle religious fervour in her. Naturally, she made it her mission to spite this creature and survive without it. Gradually work into a safe position without the monotheistic deity.

Being raised under the care of nuns was most likely the first attempt by Being X to brainwash her. While Sunday school was torturous for hungry children, it did teach her of the minor differences in this world's main Abrahamic religion. Unlike Christianity to the Salaryman, splintered denominations were rare. In this life, the majority of Christians and Europa bent the knee to the Vatican. The few that adhered to the consequences of the Reformation were confined to the north and old settler colonies across the Atlantic.

Their teacher also indirectly answered questions she had surrounding her reincarnation. Sister Amalia told how all of God's children had only one life before being taken to heaven or sent to hell. However, that "heaven" that came after purgatory felt bitter when Tanya had to live in poverty because Being X wanted to be cruel. The nuns wanted her and the other orphans to live to achieve sainthood. Presently, Tanya would rather strike down every aspect of that tyrant deity than being canonized by the Church of Rome.

The world had yet to liberate itself from the chains of irrational religious thought. It had not changed her opinion of Being X, it showed she was not his first victim. The fools of this world could strive for sainthood to their detriment; she would prosper on her own without Being X.

Tanya lowered the binoculars and cast another observation formula, sending a small amount of mana into the orb around her neck. A rudimentary holographic screen materialized in front of her. As expected, the only dot on the screen was her own magical signature. The only life forms she knew of were sourced to the Magna Rumeli soldiers fifteen hundred meters below her encamped in machine-gun nests and crude trenches. The bulk of the human activity was several kilometres behind her with the artillery that would make any attack on the coast a suicide mission.

Despite her complaining, Tanya saw the safety in her position in the middle of these two forces.

For any naval power to go deeper into the Bosporus, the mines and coastal guns would need to be neutralised by the land. But any invasion could then be repulsed due to a lack of adequate naval support. It was the perfect defence: a position that could oppose aggressors by the virtue of its existence.

The Salaryman was a history buff and provided contradictory evidence to the claim. The Gallipoli campaign was a resounding success for the defenders, but also displayed the lack of foresight that could easily carry over to the attackers in her current life.

Perversely, as if by the will of that demented Being X, the attackers were the same as last time.

The Commonwealth and Magna Rumeli had been fighting a war across Africa and the Arabian Peninsula for two years. Meanwhile, the political world silently watched. Both combatants had been fledgling second-rate powers before the outbreak of war; the Magna Rumeli from corruption, famine, economic turmoil, and a lack of modernized industries that propelled the cycle across its territory. The Commonwealth had been metaphorically declawed for the same reasons caused by war and instability that lead to revolution, resulting in them losing the majority of their colonial empire to other powers or independence movements, including their beloved Home Iles.

In its place was a new state: The Unitary of Albion.

From what little she cared to know it was a one-power state made up of the victors from the revolution. Defined by extreme isolationism, authoritarian politics, and dogmatic militarism to rival the Empire in spirit if not action. Gripped by the Fasces party, not dissimilar to another ideology the Salaryman knew to despise.

Irrespective of ideology, the Unitary and Commonwealth were viewed with suspicion by the Empire. Even so, when the Commonwealth declared war on the Magna Rumeli, their unimportant status brought no major country to openly intervene and risk a larger war or the sunk cost fallacy. Not even the Empire was motivated enough to defy the weakened Commonwealth, merely providing equipment and volunteers such as Tanya to the Turks.

The Commonwealth had recently captured their old Egyptian Territory and opened the gates of the Mediterranean to the fleet and new fronts.

From her perspective, the victor in this war might have the opportunity to rebuild themselves if they could win the peace. Although, it would be more beneficial to build your empire vertically rather than horizontally.

A minuscule blip startled Tanya out of her daydreaming. Her formula had begun to malfunction, the screen starting to reduce itself into hazy static without her focus. She counteracted the interference by applying more mana into the spell, attempting to overpower the force that was diminishing it. Her observation formula had detected a faint signature of magic from the still-present disruption.

Initially, it was only one, then two, five; they were minuscule signals but rapidly swelled to over twenty. Tanya knew not to expect complete rationale from the enemy. She still had hope that someone in the Commonwealth would see the Dardanelles as the trap they were and give her a simple deployment.

She pressed down on the radio receiver, scanning for the lifeforms with her formula. She cursed herself for being lulled into security. No matter the era or profession, she should know it was deadly to underestimate another's stupidity.

"Control, this is Fairy Eight. I have multiple unconfirmed-"

There was no indication of human life on the other end, replaced by static in her ears. Changing her frequency to the cannons behind her yielded the same results.

Whatever was coming had to utilize mages. No other device could jam radio communications in this age. Tanya refocused on identifying the Magna Rumeli's visitors, yanking her now worthless headset down to her neck.

"Let's see where your hiding." She poured more mana into the formula to keep it functional.

To her relief, the interference did not double the numbers any further, steadily maintaining twenty-plus mana signs. The skies before her were clear of hostiles if there were enemy mages on route to ruin her posting she would be able to see them. If they were lower to the shoreline, then the infantry would have opened fire. The Empire might not have high standards for the Magna Rumeli, but Tanya believed they were competent enough to shoot above their heads.

"Just over there...they couldn't." Tanya readjusted her search to above her position.

Mages were able to fly up to eighteen hundred meters and maintain fighting capabilities, most able to push it to a maximum of two thousand meters. It would be a struggle to climb any higher, making operational integrity near impossible to maintain. It would not take more than a well placed high explosive formula from below to blow a lone mage apart; their shields would be virtually non-existent due to the stress of their flight. If the enemy failed to take them down by some miracle of stupidity, the mage would exhaust their mana through manoeuvres and oxygen respiration.

Tanya wondered if she should be pitying the enemy for their evident desperation or applauding their ingenuity, even if it was a waste in manpower and resources. It took her equipment a moment to recalibrate, but Tanya's eyes found the mark.

"What on earth have you brought here Being X?"

At least three thousand meters above the ground were several forms dotting the sky, too big for a human figure. Tanya cut off the mana flow to the no longer useful formula and the screen faded. The binoculars provided an answer when she squinted into the glass sights: fighter planes.

Biplanes: the standard aircraft of this world.

Tanya picked out the red, white, and blue roundel painted on the underside of the leading plane wing, so the target or anti-aircraft guns could know the nationality of who was attempting to kill them.

For a moment she pondered if her orb was malfunctioning, why had it identified planes as emitting magical energy?

Tanya hesitantly went to her computation orb, sending another pinch of mana through her palm, the red gem lowly humming as she activated a communication spell. The functionality of the formula varied wildly but rarely managed to be equal to the radio, airing on the side of useless most of the time since mild environmental interference could disrupt the message. Because it was primarily for mages in open-air conditions, it was deemed acceptable for military use. With sand in the wind and existing magical interference, there was little chance it would be better than the radio.

"Fairy Eight to Control, enemy aircraft spotted." Dead air. "Oh, perfect."

Tanya contemplated her next course of action while keeping an eye on the planes almost parallel to the shores.

She could fly off and avoid the enemy for the time, disguise her play of self-preservation as an attempt to contact her superiors directly. It might work but could easily result in accusations of cowardice or desertion charges, neither beneficial to the longevity of her career and an eventual safe position in the rear.

The volunteers were under orders not to engage unless fired at first. In theory that suited her, she had no desire to make herself a target. With fight and flight exhausted, her best option was to remain stationary. Keep watch of the enemy, let them make the first move for her to counteract. If she acted within the confines of orders, she could avoid punishment.

The planes were directly over Tanya now and gradually descending. With binoculars, she could spot finer details on the aircraft. They were unsurprisingly from the Commonwealth, in the early morning sun she could see more roundels, symbols and flags painted on their dark blue and khaki planes.

Several displayed the Albion lion head on their duel wings, the details revealed as the planes declined towards their possible target.

Several others had red leaves and different coloured stars affixed into her view. Tanya knew it was near tradition for countries to spend resources on enhancing the visual appeal of their toys for war. These planes seemed to have an abnormal amount of decorations from her position, an effort made to differentiate planes from the uniform standard they still shared. She wondered if her angle was different would there be a tacky set of shark teeth like from her past life.

The planes continued their decent, engines now mildly audible. Tanya eyeballed the trajectory to line up with the Magna Rumeli artillery. It would make strategic sense, but she wondered what hope a handful of fighters could do against heavy guns.

The ground forces noticed their visitors. Indicated by the popping of desperate rifle fire heard as a vain attempt to repel the planes. If Tanya's radio failed to work, meaning they would be isolated from the rear. At least she would have witnesses to back up her story of broken communication when she stood in front of an officer.

Bursts of machine-gun fire spewed from the aircraft once they were in range. Faint explosions were set off, nothing comparable to the wonders created by the guns that remained unscarred.

"So much for your plan Limeies." The Albion planes had only sat off isolated patches and were already pulling up. If the shores to her back would deliver landing craft, then their fates were sealed. Tanya wondered if the Commonwealth was wise enough to call off their attack and let her have a peaceful day when she received another shock.

The pilots had abandoned their biplanes. Human figures had jumped out nearly half the planes and were plummeting towards the artillery.

Tanya had almost dropped her binoculars in surprise, was the Commonwealth that dedicated to their war effort that they would prefer death to failure. Or was the punishment for failure so severe that suicide was more desirable for half of the pilots.

The planes continued to climb however and what was perceived to be crew abruptly stopped in mid-air.

"Mages!"

Her formula had not malfunctioned, if each biplane carried a mage, then she had picked up the correct number of signatures. Now a full squadron of twelve mages that materialized in the air over her allies.

Now the opposition had an ideal unit to attack her.

The Albions had quickly got into formation in preparation for their assault, any retaliatory rifle or machine-gun fire bounced off the mage's shields. After what Tanya assumed to be the Albions coordinating their targets and upon receiving the order, they began their barrage.

This time the explosions were tough enough to damage the guns, visible as far as the shores as ammunition added to the beauty of destruction. Magic enhanced bullets sent into canons, shells, and men with the same effect.

If she had the order or a desire to intervene in the slaughter, she would be useless. She was out of effective range and would only be able to hit one or two before becoming the next target for the enemy. A suicidal charge might endure her to the higher-ups and politicians but would merely be a waste of her abilities. Hopefully, her commander would see the same reasoning.

Another fiery explosion rocked the depo and bellows of black smoke sailed into the air, loud enough that Tanya flinched to cover her ears. Officers, conscripts, and heavy guns would all have shared the same fate and charred remains. Headquarters, Control, and every soldier stationed along the Dardanelles would be aware of the attack after that blast and consequential fire. Not that it made much difference now that their main deterrent to an invasion was mimicking New Years' festivities.

The planes that made the drop returned from around the smoke, quickly picking up their precious cargo without breaking formation or significantly reducing speed. Whatever new unit she was witnessing was remarkably well trained. The well-oiled machine of mages flying back to the shore with their planes; directly at her.

Tanya put all available mana into her barrier, the warm glow extending up to her shoulders from the rush. If they decided to mark her as prey, she might have enough mana to hold her shields together and retreat once they passed her. If they gave chase, she could outmanoeuvre the vehicles and possibly a small number of mages thanks to her small size. Their guns remained silent. She was an open target, but the planes broke their spear shape to bypass her. Still close enough that their wind tugged her along for several meters and left her alone with an untouched shield and messy strands of hair.

Tanya made sure she kept her eyes on the planes, in part to ensure her safety and to gather a complete image of the craft. Each fighter was built with two seats, unsurprising considering what she saw at the artillery station. In addition to the rear gun for the mage, they had hook-shaped handles on each side of the aircraft. Their purpose was evident as the mages clung onto them while passing and glaring at her, likely having it double its use for picking up its departed crew. The reason why they had not returned to their seats was unsurprising as the squadron promptly jumped off again to attack the shore defences.

The binoculars again proved Tanya correct. The water line was beginning to contain the silhouette of smaller ships, soon to be enacting the landing she dreaded.

It was hardly a fight, that word would imply the two sides were engaging in combat. This was a one-sided slaughter. The infantry was imprisoned in trenches and bunkers that quickly filled with the residue of explosive spells.

Planes strafed the ground and claimed more kills with each run. Despite the modifications, the aircraft operated with minimal hindrance to mobility or speed. The mages either remained still and absorbed any shots or darted around the skies to ensure no grunt could land a hit. Every other second a new highlight of orange fire would throw up the ground and send splinters of metal into men who remain only burned by the explosions.

Tanya was motivated to abandon the spectacle and fly back to control to recount her tails. That was its own risk of the unknown. The other planes had flown out of sight beyond the column of smoke to handle their task. They might not show the same mercy as their fellow countrymen. Their reason for letting her live was a mystery to her. Tanya took no delight in senseless killing but had no intention of allowing danger to lurk and potentially strike back.

Was it because she had not shot first? Was it Being X's cursed body that inspired mercy? Did they know she was an Imperial?

In a twisted way, staying still might be her best option; fleeing could confirm untrue suspicions among a more violent company. If she continued to observe the opportunity to exploit their kindness could arise.

The slaughter did not last much longer. Tanya saw the final machine-gun nest vaporized before it could reposition to the sky. The mortars were failed by their makeshift camouflage, engulfing the crews with screaming flames. Any remaining soldier resorted to choosing if his death would come from an artillery spell in a trench or a plane's bullet on the filed. It remained unanswered if it was the approaching fleet or Commonwealth doctrine that inspired such a ruthless nature, irrelevant to the outmatched defenders. Their final defiant volley of small arms the last action before they ceased resistance and succumbed to death.

The mages shifted their fire to the beaches themselves rather than its defenders. They spaced themselves out over the long-predetermined stretch of land and began pounding the ground. Magic rounds turning up sand and dirt into the air in awkward lines, additional explosions foreign to the attack went off erratically. Tanya caught on the nature of this was a crude yet effective method to clear out hidden mines for the on-route soldiers.

The planes split off from their mages to fly further inland while giving her another show of flying close enough to pull her along with their wind. Her shields deployed but the only casualty was her hair. When she regained stability, Tanya put the binoculars back onto the enemies at the shore. A single mage split off from the herd, abandoning the rudimentary spaced outline to fly further inland. Higher and closer to her.

"Here it comes."

Tanya raised her rifle in anticipation of the attack. Orders or not, she was not about to let the perfect counter to a mage blow her out of the sky. She refused to let Being X have that cathartic joy on account of a technicality.

Tanya got another chance to observe the movement of Commonwealth mages through the sites of the gun. The mage moved swiftly, propelled through the air with two oversized metal boots, flying towards Tanya's side as if to not challenge her head-on. The figure grew closer, gradually decelerating while remaining in the prone flight position. While possibly attempting to come to a stop, the enemy managed to overpass the static Imperial. It forced Tanya to put the beach to her back momentarily to reposition herself away from being in a position that would make her surrounded by hostiles.

Once slow enough, the mage was able to force themselves into a standing position. Did the Albions not teach their mages how to stop?

If this was a trap, it was risky for her possible victim. She wondered if she still had enough time to blow off this stranger's head and make a run for it. She could write this inexperienced flying as a deliberate act of aggression towards her.

The mage stabilized and put their hands up above their head, displaying the empty gloved palms. Tanya could send enough shots to break any deflection barrier and then another to open their skull in a matter of seconds. Seemingly unaware of the risk, the unknown fool slowly approached her.

The term boy might be more appropriate. Tanya was only nine but could be pointing her weapon at someone barely half a decade older than herself. Not impossible due to magic users being in constant demand, but the Empire waited until adulthood before enacting conscription. She was an exception, not a new standard.

The Commonwealth appeared to dress their mages in the same manner as their biplanes. The fair-skinned boy donned a bright red tunic with a black collar, scarf, and epaulettes. When paired with the black trousers, he appeared more fashioned for the old wars of the Coalition rather than hanging out in the sky. The Empire's flight suit was built for functionality rather than presentation. The full-body dark green was not the ideal camouflage among the clouds but served more purpose than the red coat approaching her. The only part of him that was appropriate for this century was the helmet, goggles, and bandoleer pouches, only forgoing the rifle slung over his back for the scheme he was attempting to pull.

Tanya saw the soldier activate a formula to project his voice across the distance and wind around them. His Germanic was fluent but spoken through an unsettling monotone voice.

"Good morning." Tanya thought it was pleasant that he possessed some manners. Her rifle stayed trained on the speaker. "I imagine you didn't expect to see anything like this."

They were three dozen meters apart, but Tanya backed away at any further attempt to close the gap. The stranger realized he had reached the invisible limit and stopped. He tried to continue the pleasantries, Tanya could see piercing eyes and an uncomfortable smile from the Albion, his reacted as if physically hurt to curl up his lips.

"That's not necessary." One of his hands briefly pointed to her gun. "We have no reason to attack each other."

Tanya cackled, was that an attempt at humour? Maybe it was a way to hide the panic he had for being at the mercy of another. It was his fault for flying into danger. She had endless reasons to pull the trigger, primarily her piece of mind.

"I disagree, there is a war going on."

"Between the Magna Rumeli and Commonwealth. There's no point in fighting the Empire or its men."

To think the same mage that was engaged in a one-sided battle was now attempting to act with mercy. He asked for her name when answered with silence he did the same for her age. The benefit to the little girl persona was natural manipulation. She lowered the rifle but kept it at the ready, he lowered his arms back down to his side. It would only take another second to lift it and tear into the mage. It would be a shame to dismember someone who was on the cusp of rationalization. She put on her best scared but innocent voice that reflected her age.

"Would that mean I am free to go?"

Do your allies in the glorified paper planes share your idealism?

The mage appeared taken aback by the question.

"I was rather hoping you could assist us in protecting your countrymen." Tanya allowed him to hover closer again as he spoke. "We know where the Empire's men are stationed, huddled around long-range howitzers at the entrance of the peninsula."

His hands interlocked as he continued, still gradually getting closer.

"After we clear the beaches, we have orders to force a surrender. If they see one of their own unharmed, we can avoid a diplomatic incident."

It was a risky proposition for Tanya, yet she had not been provided with an alternative. She would likely be free from any incoming fire if she followed the Albions, having meat shields just in case. If the plan worked, she could try and have it framed as her prowess as an officer trying to protect her associates, a quality prime for the rear and not the disposable grunts. It would likely be her superior taking the brunt of the blame if there was any, leaving herself with little risk as an Officer Cadet.

"That's it? I'm your bargaining chip."

She readjusted her rifle, signalling for the Albion to stop, he complied, now a dozen meters away.

"Call yourself what you wish."

"So, what happens after we all surrender." Tanya's knowledge of this world's history was lacking, but she wanted to avoid a Boar concentration camp from her old world.

The soldier seemed to understand her thoughts on imprisonment and answered.

"The generals don't want any hostilities. I can assure you'll be back home as soon as possible."

Who was this random mage to make promises above his paygrade? Tanya raised her rifle back into the firing position. At this range, magical barriers would shatter after a single enhanced shot. She could intimidate the complete truth out of him if she were more assertive. He did not recoil at the gun aimed at the center of his head.

"What makes you think I'll believe a word you say after what just happened? Where was the Turks offer? You could have us all lined up and killed."

"I can promise you. You will go back to the Empire." To the stranger's credit, he managed to keep his voice steady while at an increased risk. "When the war started the Queen announced the enemy was the Rumeli, no one else. No one would dare go against a direct edict from the Crown."

Tanya lowered the gun again, the Mage barely reacted. He spoke with reassurance.

This grunt was likely blinded into servitude but raised a valid point. Tanya had not heard the degree herself but agreed it would be illogical for the government to contradict themselves. She was ignored by all except her supposed ally appeared with an offer of asylum. At least she would avoid the firing squad for the crime of a different uniform.

With great reluctance, she accepted the offer. The Albion still had the threatening eyes but evolved into a visibly pleased expression. Most likely revealed his plan was coming into fruition.

The Mage looked over to the shore, Tanya cautiously followed his gaze. The mages had finished firing into the sand and started to return inland. In the water the ships were closer, some releasing rowboats of soldiers to begin the invasion. Compared to the Gallipoli campaign, Tanya already saw an improvement; if they could continue this success was irrelevant to her. She was satisfied if her life and career were safe.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The mage started, Tanya saw him reach for what appeared to be a necklace underneath his black collar, holding the unseen ornament apparently without realizing it. "A plan succeeding without any complications".

"Strangely, I agree." Tanya did not need to lie or exaggerate.

The Mage straightened up and went into a salute, his right hand meeting the steel lip of his helmet.

"First Lieutenant Gabriel Stuart. With God as my witness, I will ensure your safety is assured."

"Cadet Officer Tanya Degurechaff."

Tanya returned the salute, her anger at the mention of the deity hidden behind gritted teeth and a tightened throat. She imagined Being X would fathom at her well being entrusted to him by another. If it meant the Lieutenant would keep his word, the could oath to whoever he pleased. For now, she could play the role of the hostage.

Stuart shifted uncomfortably, rewrapping his scarf when his hands were devoid of a task.

"You'll have to hand over your equipment for now."

A rifle's bolt handle being pulled and then pushed back into position echoed next to her, purposefully amplified with the same spell she and the Lieutenant utilized. She had fallen for a trick. She had allowed herself to become surrounded.

Tanya hesitantly looked over her shoulder to see another Mage hiding in the corner of her eye. A woman in the same red and black uniform floated close to her with her gun held for potential quick use. The Lieutenant had allowed himself to serve as a distraction for his ally to sneak up on her and take up an overwatch position, making his act of charity dangerous but not entirely suicidal. It was an action she would never encourage but ironically could not refuse to carry out.

The girl with light brown skin managed to mutter out Germanic words for her to give up her arms. She handed over her rifle, knife and allowed the stranger to take off the radio on her back, grunting English words to herself while violently yanking off the headset off Tanya's neck.

Lieutenant Stuart flew closer, Tanya presumed it had been due to her lack of arms. The girl threw her newly acquired rifle over to him haphazardly, yelling out in their native tongue. The orphan Tanya had only learned one language while being taught by the nuns, but the Salaryman had been the top of his class in English.

"You carry it." The girl made her disapproval clear, struggling to put the radio on her back. "How does a kid fly with this thing."

"Maybe she complains less." Gabriel swapped out the rifle on his back for Tanya's, speaking casually as if the girl's complaints were expected. Perhaps there were minor discipline issues in their unit. If Tanya dared to talk in the same manner as to an officer, she would be reprimanded, not antagonised. In the Empire the result would be the opposite of mutual laughter.

The remaining ten Commonwealth mages regrouped around them, a few providing suspicious glances directed at her, the undeniable odd one out. The only one under the age of ten and not in an over-stylized uniform. Lieutenant Stuart spoke up to the group once they were all in flying formation. Tanya was awkwardly left to float next to her captor and the squadron's apparent leader.

Keeping his monotone voice, he repeated what was already told to her, emphasising to avoid all casualties. Acting under the same rule of letting the enemy shoot first. Completing with a communal cry for the Monarch, the only time the Lieutenant was able to add emotion to his voice.

"For the Queen! Invicta!" Gabriel started it with his rifle raised.

"For the Queen!"

"Invicta!"

Stuart tapped Tanya on her shoulder, looking down at her. "Stay next to me, and it'll be alright. We'll go slow for you."

Tanya nodded and followed him into position near the front of the pack.

Behind them, the rowboats had touched down, and infantry were slowly beginning to pour inland. Tanya only saw foot soldiers from her glance, not a tank, truck, heavy gun, or horse among them. The Commonwealth no doubt held the advantage, but if they could hold it remained to be seen.

That was not her problem, however. She just had to ensure she survived this experiment in diplomacy with a career.

Lieutenant Stuart ordered them to head out. In an instant, they all shot off further inland to their destination. Tanya was confident in her decision but hoped she made the right decision as she lagged behind the meager, underage Lieutenant.

A/N:
Thank you to Xanen for feedback over the course of writing the first chapter. Check out the Saint of Letzenbourg if you have not already, I would argue it is the best story on this site for Youjo Senki. He helped me get a grip on Tanya's character and we helped each other with some plot details. Our stories will have similarities but we have discussed these in private and reached a conclusion. So there's no need to suspect any copying or foul play on either party. In fact, we will be beta reading for each other going forward.

No doubt most will notice the inspiration from Kaiserreich but I assure you the inspiration extends as far as the set up for Albion/Great Britain.

Updates are planned to be every two to three weeks but are subject to change.

Thank you for reading, feedback, reviews and criticism are always welcome.