The next morning, Amelia joined the steady trickle into classroom 1-G. She filtered in among the column of students, her red handkerchief shining out from the crowd. Like it, her own visage glimmered as she stepped inside.

"Hey Amelia."

She turned around, sensing a familiar person with joy. "Hi, Frederick! Hi, Abbie! How're you?"

Frederick rolled his shoulders. "Couldn't be better thankfully. A good night's sleep and a cup of fruit salad, and it's like the club fair never happened."

"Good for ya Freddie," Abbie replied with a mischievous smirk. "I must have hit the sack pretty good last night 'cause I didn't wake up in the right direction. And from a day like that, nothing's better than a good pick-me-up, as long as it's not coffee." Tilting her bag, Amelia could vaguely spy out the tip of a colorful can tucked within.

"What about you? Had a restful morning?"

"Oh, I think I barely slept!" Amelia chuckled nervously in spite of the cheerful facade. "Couldn't stop thinking about what's next for tankery. I wonder how many people we'll get; you think we'll get many? You all saw that school newspaper, right? I hope they got all our good sides…"

"Woah, Amelia," consoled the Potter boy. "Good that you're still brimming with energy, but let's not burn ourselves out right now."

Amelia forced herself to take a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm just… jittery right now."

"Girl, maybe you should stay away from my energy drink," joked Abbie with a friendly laugh. "You'll be bouncing around the walls otherwise."

Frederick nodded but took notice that the stream of arriving students was withering as they readily sought out their seats. "All right, you jokers. Homeroom's about to start."

The three took their respective seats and waited. The door opened and the trio swung their gazes, Amelia's expression sparking bright.

But to everyone's surprise, a new face walked in. Stacks of handouts in one hand and closing the door shut with the other, the unfamiliar teacher approached the head of the room. "Hello everyone. This may be unexpected for some of you but today, miss Elma Lipponen was unavailable this morning. As her substitute, I'll be taking attendance in her stead. When I call your name, please say 'here'..."

Already Amelia huddled close to her friends. "What's going on?"

"Wish I knew…" Frederick whispered back, his concerns mirroring her's.

The school day seemed to drag on for Amelia, as she found herself more aware of the passage of time. Her mind was already at the finish line, and it was her body that was stuck going through classes before club activities could begin.

"... only around the third century in the EC calendar that the first roots of our country Gallia was first laid, at Castle Randgriz, founded by a mythical figure prior to the War of the Valkyrur. The Valkyrur were ancient but powerful nomads from the north, said to wield supernatural powers and mastery over ragnite with the likes unseen for centuries. While it was originally believed that the Valkyrur used their powers to protect the land, in truth they came to conquer the continent from the indigenous Darcsen population. Destroying the native civilization, the Valkyrur used the opportunity to dictate history in their favor, portraying themselves as saviors and benefactors as they laid the foundations of modern Europan culture. Among the revisionisms was the truth behind…"

Amelia sighed to herself as she tried to pay attention. She never thought she had anything to say about history classes, but only halfway through today's courses, Amelia never felt more dulled being aware of the long passage. What would once fly by as fleeting memories now screeched to a crawl, the progress of time dragging and stretching, her mind seemingly stuck in place when it could have breezed by.

If only time could fly by like their history lessons.

She twirled her mechanical pen in futile entertainment. But more than desperate amusement, it was out of a sense of unease. The unexpected revelation the morning before continued to wrack her brain, occupy her thoughts, never sleeping, always shouting in her mind. No matter what Amelia made of it, she couldn't know why Lipponen had suddenly gone absent.

And now here she was, made to witness how stifling a dimly-lit lecture could be, where the subject of today was back to square one all over again.

She sighed as she glanced down, masking her restlessness from the teacher who kept a watchful eye from the front, waiting for a raised hand amid his ceaseless prattling. Arranged before him, students all sat in dutiful silence, watching and occasionally jotting new entries in their notes, the gentle scratching of paper against pen or pencil soothing to hear. By contrast, Amelia's own notes, while not devoid of any relevant information, were would be what Frederick would consider "lacking". She could imagine what Abbie's own notes looked like.

Amelia laid her cheek to rest on her free hand, and it was then that she noticed the classmate next to her, her pen in motion. What caught her eye was the repetitive movement of the writing implement, rapid patterns ill-fitting for writing.

No, as Amelia peered closely, this girl was drawing.

Leaving one quick glimpse to see if the coast was clear, she risked leaning near. Drawing close, Amelia made out glimpses of sketches: flower meadows, a smiling sun, and…

"Woah, is that a porcavian?"

The student whipped her head in surprise, her surprise clear as day even behind her curtain of long black hair. She barely let out a gasp as she reflexively hid her "notes" from Amelia's curious eyes.

Amelia stared at her confused. "What's wrong? That was definitely a porcavian you doodled in your notebook, wasn't it? No way it could be anything else with those wings." She giggled. "Aren't they cute? They're just piglets with wings, except they don't go around rolling in the mud."

Now it was the black-haired girl's turn to look at her classmate weird. "Um, y-yeah…" Her response barely came out as a murmur.

"Whenever I see them, I can't help but feel envious of anyone who has one as a pet. Oh that reminds me, have you seen those clips of porcavian talent shows? Ohmigosh I just can't help but think how cute they are, doing those little tricks all while they trot around going 'Moink!' I swear, they're smart little piggies. Ugh, I can't decide which is more cute, porcavians, dogs, cats, or- Oh hey, what else did you doodle? I think there was a bear but I don't think-"

"I hope you're paying attention back there!"

Amelia retracted back to her desk in a snap. She hunched over her desk, pencil in hand and notebook spread in front of her, hoping that the teacher hadn't noticed too much of her inattention.

Likewise, so did the shy girl as she set her notebook back down to resume what she was doing, bowing her head to further disguise her actions.

Except this time, she bowed her head just a little lower, her hair draping past her sides like a veil.

The ringing of the lunch bell was naught but a memory as Amelia readily took her tray, loaded with her typical fare along with a disproportionate amount of bread rolls. She plopped down on her seat, glad for the respite from classes, however temporary it was before they resumed. Sounds and clatter of talk and utensils rang endlessly around them in the vast school cafeteria

"Damn girl, you brought the whole bakery here," joked Abbie as she noted her friend's portions.

Amelia could only give an embarrassed chuckle as she began to dig in. Across from them, the seats were swiftly filled by Daniel and Katrin. The boy remained quiet while the Schmidt girl leaned close. "Say, any of you seen Ms. Lipponen lately?"

Abbie and Amelia looked up in unison. "Nope. Haven't this morning."

"She's our homeroom teacher," Amelia added. "And she didn't show up then. All we've heard is that she couldn't show up."

Katrin hummed in thought. "Wonder what's up. It wouldn't be like an adult to not show up all of a sudden, especially right after our club fair."

"Maybe she just crashed from all the work," Abbie suggested as she gazed inside her energy drink. "Couldn't crawl of out bed this morning."

"Maybe…" murmured Amelia, feeding her own pondering thoughts as much as she chewed on her lunch. Knowing their teacher, it wasn't farfetched that this would indeed happen to her - the first day of homeroom was sufficient evidence.

Yet, she couldn't quite be sure of that. While the club fair was exhausting for all involved, tanks and tankery was their club advisor's greatest passion. To miss out a school day would be in line with the teacher, but at the same time missing out on another day of tankery would be unlike her.

Just then, the sounds of an approaching person tapped behind them. Turning around, the group found themselves finally joined by Frederick.

"'Bout time you arrived," remarked Abbie. "Don't tell me it wasn't all for your salad."

The boy took his seat but offered no time for a witty comeback, let alone pleasantries. "Sorry I was late, but listen to this: a staff member told me that Ms. Lipponen had actually left some instructions for us. After class, we're to head straight to the tankery garage." He brandished a set of sheets as proof of his claims. All eyes went wide at the news (save for Katrin).

In light of the revelation, Amelia found herself now stuffing her rolls in her mouth. She now couldn't wait for what was in store for them.

The group trooped outside, the end of today's classes signified by the stream of students as they disseminated from the building, either to return to their dorms, to hang out, or to head to their club activities. For the five tankery members, it was the latter.

Amelia lagged behind Frederick who still held the notes in his hands, her eyes glued to them. And from a brief glimpse, she wasn't the only one who remained curious as to their contents.

Just what did Lipponen have in store for them?

"Hey Daniel!"

They all stopped at the unexpected voice but to the Czherny boy it was familiar once his memory kicked in. Daniel instantly straightened up once he recognized who it was. "Oh hey Zak!"

The Seamer brother replied with a friendly smirk. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Heyo, what's cookin'?" his sister added, coming up from behind Zak.

Daniel smiled at the Seamers' return but turned to see that his friends greeted them with confusion. He coughed awkwardly. "S-so uh, this is Zak Seamer and Rachel Seamer. They're brothers and sis- er, I-I guess that wasn't necessary since they share the same last name-"

Amelia walked up to the Seamers, noting their Darcsen heritage. "Hi Zak, hi Rachel. It's nice to meet you. I'm Amelia Gunther."

"Likewise!" Rachel replied enthusiastically. A tiny smile crept on Abbie's lips as she looked over the sister.

Amelia looked over the Seamers with a welcoming look but quickly took note of more figures approaching behind them. She took a step to meet them but found it hard to begin once it became apparent how many there were. Vacant expressions from Zak and Rachel offered no clues as to who they were.

"Y-you guys are…?"

Two students stepped forward, a pair of boy and girl, the latter who like the Seamers was a Darcsen. "Hello. I am Lukas Landzaat. It is a pleasure to meet you," greeted the boy with a slight nasally tone as he adjust his glasses' square frames.

"And I'm his older sister Wilheim," introduced the other with a motherly voice. Amelia's eyes were drawn to her long purple hair that flowed gracely even in a tiny breeze but as she did, they were swiftly drawn to her chest which she couldn't help but admire.

'So big… how do her buttons not pop out…?'

A new figure approached, snapping Amelia back into the present. She blinked when she looked up and saw it was a band of four before her, all students with their uniforms. Yet their appearances could not be any more out of the ordinary - and in all likelihood just on the cusp of the school's dress code.

"Um…"

One among them spoke up, his spiky black hair held up by a pair of aviator goggles on his forehead and a weathered bright blue long coat draped over his shoulders. An air of audacity was present everywhere around this boy and Amelia immediately assumed him to be a ring-leader of sorts. His bombastic voice only confirmed that notion. "The name's Wyker Inglebard! You need trouble, I'm your man!"

"Hey there!" a light blonde girl began, her long hair tied into a pair of bold braided twintails. "I'm Cindy Thompson. Nice to meet ya all!" Snapping a girly salute, Amelia noted a bright blue bracelet on her wrist.

"And I'm Nina Sellers, same year as the rest of you." Glancing to the side, Amelia was greeted by golden-haired girl, her bangs parted down from the center. "And this is my sister-"

"-Tina Sellers," finished the last member of the group, a girl whose appearance was an exact-splitting image of her sister next to her, albeit with a blue hairband unlike her twin's silver. "It's nice to meet you all."

Amelia was flabbergasted by the diverse personalities that greeted her before she spotted a subtle individual. Tucked behind Wilheim Landzaat, a girl's gold blonde hair and light blue ribbons betrayed her position as wide blue eyes stared timidly at Amelia. Their gazes met and the girl shrunk further, eliciting a response from Wilheim who seemed to have been aware of this girl's discreet presence.

"Come on now. Don't be shy."

Tentatively, the girl stepped out. Her full height was marred by her nervous posture. "M-my name is M-Mariah Evans! I'm only a freshman so please go easy on me!"

"W-will do," Amelia assured as best she could, unsure herself of what to make of the meek girl. 'We're both first-years though…'

"Don't mind her," Wilheim replied with a tender smile. "We've only met her recently, but after we mentioned how the tankery club was in dire need of participants, the poor girl just couldn't help but tag along. Bless her sweet little heart."

"Aw, that's so nice," complimented Amelia, giving Mariah a warm expression. "It's nice to meet you Mariah. I'd be more than happy to be your friend-"

Then she stopped. She glanced back up at all the new faces gathered before her, things only now beginning to click together. "Hold on… Are you all-?"

Zak couldn't help but snicker in good spirits. "Guess we're all in the right place to join the tankery club. Though I do have to wonder where your advisor is."

"Teach is… somewhere," Abbie managed to answer once the initial shock wore off. She remembered how grand their showtime was at the fair but still found it hard to believe that they'd get this much so soon after.

"Yeah, Ms. Lipponen didn't come to school today," added Frederick. Then, as before he hoisted the stack of handouts. "But she has left stuff for us to do. We're just on our way to the club room to do them."

"And where is the tankery club room?" Lukas inquired as he noted their presence right outside the school building, confused as to the whereabouts of their rendezvous.

Amelia gestured them all with her hand, her first step already taken as she prepared to lead them all. "Just this way. Hope you don't mind a bit of walking…"

The heavy door creaked open, light spilling into the room but swiftly intruded by shadows that moved inside. Lint and dust lingered in the air and in spite of the ajar windows a peculiar odor of machine oil and metal filled the musty interior.

Even when on the second day of the club, Amelia and her friends were more attuned to the sensations than the newcomers. She stepped inside with her eyes gleaming with familiarity and eagerness, turning to see the others possess more varied reactions to the new environment.

Rachel whistled. "Shoulda figured you guys had a garage. Though it could use a bit of tidying up."

"Agreed," concurred Lukas. "There should be some thought into better organizing the place. But other than that I can't say this is too bad."

Out of everyone, Wyker and Cindy were most brimming with energy. "Woo-whee! A hike, rustic shed, dunno about the air-conditioning, and the scent of oil in the air. Oh I think I'm liking these first impressions!"
"Ha! You just love a challenge no matter what they are, don't you Wyker? Well count me in!"

Zak smirked to himself as he surveyed the inside, nodding at the rustic world he found familiar. As his gaze roamed, his mood brightened even more when he laid his eyes on one object tucked away in the garage. "Ha ha! There she is, the beauty."

Instantly, everyone turned towards the parked Type 37. Whatever reception they had of the tankery club's conditions and location became forgotten as the tank magnetized their attention. The star of yesterday's club fair had become one again as new people drew themselves close, new pairs of hands reaching to touch the metal.

Behind them, the original members couldn't help but find amusement at their fascination. Watching them, Amelia imagined herself in their shoes just a day ago… No, she was in their place only a day ago, enraptured by the tank's might and size, its history dwarfing even that. So as it had made an unforgettable impact on her, so too did it make a lasting impression on those interested in joining the club.

And just like before, a peculiar chill slid down Amelia's back. Peeking to her side, she was quick to spot a furtive head peering at her from behind the garage doors before it reacted to her and recoiled from view.

Amelia sighed to herself at the another display of deja vu. "I've already seen you. If you're interested in the tankery club, then you're more than welcome to check it out."

It took a second for their watcher to comply, stepping out in the open where Amelia did a double-take. "Wha- Hang on, I've met you before!"

The girl nodded, her long free-flowing black hair familiar to the Gunther girl. "Yes. You did."

"New friend of yours?" Frederick asked.

Amelia shook her head. "It was earlier this morning. I sat next to her at history class and I noticed her sketching some cute animals- porcavians! She totally drew a porcavian, I thought it was cute and even tried telling that to her!"

The boy's shoulders shook with an amused scoff. "... Good to hear you two were paying attention."

Cheeks blushed, Amelia tried her best to look innocent. Turning his gaze to the other girl, Frederick was expecting similar embarrassment or at least averted eyes, but what made him freeze was her sharp gaze, two dark orbs nearly piercing into him. Frederick's breath became stuck in his throat as he flinched; for a boy of his size he wasn't afraid to admit the pang of fear he felt from his otherwise ordinary girl.

The girl continued to stare. Her brow furrowed. "Um…"

"Mind if I ask your name?" Amelia asked, unsure of what to make of her companion's odd reaction.

The black-haired girl fidgeted, her hands shying away from the sprightly brunette and her question. Her answer came as a hesitant peep. "Rebeka."

"Rebeka…?"

"Wulfstan." Her gaze now locked onto Amelia who now felt their glare but the sharpness was blunted by Rebeka's diffident posture, a crucial clue that compelled her to continue.

"Do you like porcavians?" Amelia asked, putting on a sunny smile.

Rebeka nodded. "Yes. I like animals. Most, at least... Thanks for liking my drawings. Not many say that to me."

"N-not a problem," Amelia replied, trying to wave it off as though it was no big deal. Having recovered, Frederick coughed lightly to garner their attention, a question in mind to speed things up. "So what brings you here today? Can't just be to follow Amelia to give her your thanks (why do I feel like it's a trend for random people to just peep on us…?)."

Rebeka's visage returned to flat neutral, her expression nearly inscrutable. But they could guess her thoughts as they tracked her distant gaze towards the tank sitting in the garage. "... What do you do in tankery?"

"Well… you do tank things!" Amelia answered. Frederick could only snicker at the misplaced enthusiasm. "Wow, wouldn't have guessed."

"Ms. Lipponen is our club advisor but she didn't show up today," continued Amelia, ignoring the remark. "But she did leave some stuff for us to do today."

"Oh right. Speaking of which…" As he whipped up the papers, Frederick quickly perused the first item on the itinerary. He waved for everyone's attention, clearing his throat aloud once he secured it. "So here's what Ms. Lipponen wrote for us:

"'Dear tankery club members, sorry if I am absent today. I had an important matter to attend to. Nevertheless, I would like for you all to engage in club activities during my absence. First things first, I would like for you to look for a TV with a video player in the storage shed. Insert and view the disk that is to be your orientation.'"

Heads turned as everyone searched for the mentioned items. Within the garage, they saw cobwebbed shelves, workbenches, dusty cabinets, creaky machinery, dusty glass windows, and…

Tucked close to a corner, a set of double doors was spotted. Its aged metal nearly blended in with its surroundings, the rust-stained frame and handles the only covert clues that gave away its existence to the club. They all approached it; after testing to handle to confirm it was not locked, the group pulled the doors open. When the croaking of metal gave way to an open passage, they filtered in.

A flaky overhead light flashed awake and the club was greeted to a disorganized cache unlike any they had seen. Nondescript crates, their wood aged and neglected; barrels rested on pallets; spare parts and bits of all shapes, size, and unknown use. Joining the others, Amelia couldn't help but be breathless at the new discovery that lay just next door, a secret that laid right beside them all this time.

As much as she sought for the desired items, Amelia also couldn't help but scour the shed. Unlike a mere cabinet or storage closet, this felt more like a depot or even a small warehouse. Like a gym locker room but without the lockers and benches and with more… stuff. Stuff that, as Amelia was astonished to discover, included metallic canisters bearing faded munition stamps, containers that faintly smelled of cordite, and racks of antique rifles, small arms, and lances that she recognized only as being weaponry from the faded years of the Second Europan War.

All of it, casually lying around not even behind locked doors on school premise.

"... I hope Teach isn't on some watchlist with that stuff," Abbie commented, her joke marred by a nervous edge in her voice.

"Ah ha! Found it!"

Immediately, the voice was zeroed in for everyone to witness the Seller twins wheel out a cart, a musty television set hooked up to a player device a shelf below. Following behind them was Zak and Katrin, a plastic CD case in the former's hands. "Says 'Tankery Orientation' on it. This must be it!"

Amelia hopped over, taking the package to see the very words etched in scribbly ink. A silver-skinned disk lay inside. "Alright! Let's pop this in and give it a watch."

Once the TV was plugged in and all systems confirmed functional (if dusty), the whole club settled in as best they could as the disk was slid in. The play button was switched on. The static mess slowly transformed into coherent picture once the device player confirmed a valid input.

On the screen, a murky parchment-like background appeared, frames visibly flickering like a ancient black-and-white news reel before blocks of runes appeared in great but messy black strokes. A smaller set of black characters emerged below, this one written in intimately-familiar galphabet.

[Introduction to Sensha-dō]

Rachel scratched her head. "Uh, is this the right video? What's 'sencha doh'?"

"It's what the Far East calls tankery," Amelia hastily explained, her words streaming forth like her memory.

"'Now that you are able to watch the orientation video, please keep in mind that this is actually a recording of a Far Eastern orientation program I managed to find,'" Frederick read aloud from the instructions. "'Thankfully it was already translated, so simply read the subtitles. Key note: sensha-dō = tankery.'"

This brought raised brows from Lukas. "From the Far East? This'll be interesting."

The video reel continued, now a tinny trumpet music trickling in the background. They weren't sure how to describe it, but its swinging conveyed a prelude of something grander. The video then shifted to static images of ancient tanks as a voiceover accompanied them. They knew not the spoken language so the audience relied solely on the text below.

[Sensha-dō. Throughout its long history it has been used all over the nation as a way to train girls.]

As the video showed to rows of disciplined uniformed young women to accentuate the last part, some members of the club had odd looks. "Girls…?"

Then they were shown a row of five, standing in line before a tank behind them.

[It's a martial art that strives to nurture polite, graceful, dignified, and brave women.] the subtitles said as those women bowed to the viewer before bowing to the tank, all done in Oriental fashion before they climbed inside.

"What."

"Brave, sure. But polite and dignified…?"

[Learning sensha-dō will give an edge to your femininity.]

"Huh?" The uttered incredulity was expressed primarily by the female students, becoming more baffled by what they witnessed. But as weirded out as everyone were, their intrigue saw that they remained hooked.

This time, the tank lurched into motion, a stoic-faced and determined-eyed Oriental woman standing from her hatch like a gallant knight on her mighty steed.

[You'll become as hot and tough as steel, as robust and lovely as caterpillar tracks, and as passionate and accurate as a cannon.]

*BOOM!*

The sound, though constrained by the video's quality, did its job to ensure that the audience remained roused and rapt as the orientation continued.

[If you learn sensha-dō, you will without a doubt become a great wife, a great mother, and a great career woman.]

"Suuuure," a voice sarcastically muttered.

'A great wife?' Amelia wondered with concern. 'But I can't marry a tank.'

A regimented formation of identical tanks now trundled past, the next scene showcasing a great parade as a seeming unending tide of tanks and their female crews streamed down before a line of onlookers that stretched across the background.

The perspective then jumped to the same uniformed women, waving and smiling under a shower of confetti as the tank rolled past a cheering crowd. Nary a disaffected thought found home in any of their faces as the women drove by, Oriental men of all appearance and status singing to them their utmost praise.

[You will be a healthy, kind, and dependable woman who will appeal to many men.]

"Bullshit~!" Abbie sang.

"Okay, flash news: tanks can help get you laid. Good to know…"

[Now, let's all learn sensha-dō and become sound and beautiful women, in both mind and body.] the translated text said, as the narration ended on a close-up of the tanks rumbling, clouds of dust and exhaust marking their trail as they charged towards the unknown - towards their imagined destiny.

[Step up, maidens!] declared the final text before the video ended, the music finishing on a triumphant note.

The ending's silence compounded that of the crowd as they sat, their thoughts still catching up to what they witnessed. Sensing the air of doubt, Frederick fell back upon Lipponen's provided notes to illuminate their way back. "'In the Far East, tankery is a women's sport. However that isn't the case everywhere else; Europan tankery is generally open to both boys and girls, so don't worry.'

"'Once you've finished watching the orientation, feel free to discuss your thoughts and questions.' Ah, our first group activity." Letting the stack of notes drop with a crinkle, the Potter boy pressed the initiative. "Alright, I suppose we should start talking. Starting off, I say that-"

"Yeah, it was weird. No need to point that out," Abbie interrupted. "Hey, is there anything interesting that Teach planned for us? Something we can, you know, actually do?"

Her friend sighed as he peered back into the papers. "Huh… No not really. She just mentioned that if we have lingering questions than we can go visit Tankopedia online for more info on tanks and tankery. But after that, nothing."

Nina gave a small huff as she crossed her arms with a frown. "Sounds like your teacher-"

"-didn't plan far ahead," Tina finished without missing a beat. The other club attendees sat in uncertain silence, their lack of response a tacit concession to the conclusion.

Zak yawned as he lifted himself from his slouched seat. "I don't know about you, but I'll be taking a gander at the beauty in the garage. You with me, Daniel?"

The boy looked up in surprise. "Um, s-sure. I don't think I know enough just yet to be a, uh, tour guide…"
"Oh don't sweat it!" Katrin encouraged. "Just pretend they're me. That'll get you talking real soon; always did the trick at our sleepovers."

Wyker hopped up to his feet, his coat swung back over his shoulders. "Well, that 'lil vid was something. Cindy, Nina, Tina, time to pack our wings. Let's see if there's any real trouble to discover around here."
Cindy grinned. "You got it, Wyk! Maybe there'll be something like a spare tank hiding around."
"You think there'll be one out here?" snickered Nina. "You must-"
"-be dreaming," Tina finished. "But who knows if there is one? That would actually be cool."

Lukas approached the video player. "Hm, a little as it explained what tankery was, it was interesting to see the Oriental perspective. If you don't mind, I'd like a chance to rewatch it in more detail…"

The once unified group quickly split off as all Amelia could do was watch helplessly, attempts to garner their attention coming out half-hearted as the unity dissolved before her eyes. Only Frederick, Abbie, Wilheim, and Rebeka stayed close though even fickle intents dwelled among them as Abbie quickly took to poking around the storeroom. Those that stayed only did so with doubting eyes - they were being left behind.

Wilheim stirred from her rest. "It seems everyone's in restless spirits."

"No doubt from lack of interest," added Frederick. "We all came for the tanks but we can only go so far with just one. And our club advisor's still not here…"

Rebeka remained reticent to all this, her neutral gaze coming across as empty as she stared into space, perhaps thinking…

Amelia too tried to think, and the obvious solution was to get the team back together again. But how? How can she entice, encourage, inspire? She was no teacher, she was just a student.

Frederick was right; they only had one tank. What did she know about it? About them in general?

What could they do with just one tank?

So deep in her thoughts that as she cast her eyes down, she found herself drawn to loose pebbles on the ground. They weren't interesting by themselves, yet they attracted her eyes, stole her focus. Something about them just distracted her, chips of concrete dancing among the microscopic particles on the floor-

… Why would pebbles be dancing all of a sudden?

Even Amelia's brain realized something was amiss. And that's when she hit a realization - she'd seen this before in a decades-old movie, the name of which eluded her for a second. Vibrations; tremors.

Something big was coming.

The tankery club ran out of the garage, hot on Amelia's trail as she sprinted outside where the afternoon sun still hung high, momentarily blinding her from seeing-

She skidded to a stop, nearly tripping herself not out of the abrupt change in movement but of stunned surprise. What she saw, she felt she would have been swept off her feet regardless.

A great hauling truck slowed to a stop in front of her, its bulk declaring the vehicle's immense power. Twin glowing radiators hissed like raging furnaces and as they simmered down, Amelia saw through their haze a head poke from out the passenger window.

"Heyy~, guess who's back?"

Frederick and the others couldn't believe it when they saw who it was. "... Ms. Lipponen?!"

"Sorry I had to leave you all with my instructions," the teacher apologized as she hopped off from the truck, meeting her pupils on ground level. "After yesterday's club fair, I just couldn't take my mind off of our club. So I spent all of last evening digging up all contacts I knew that could help us out. Pulled even more favors to make sure they'd be good to go tomorrow morning! And- W-woah! New members! Nice job, gang!"

Ignoring the last comment, Frederick already connected the dots. "And that's why you were absent this morning," he stated. "But just where exactly have you been? And what-"

Further words died in his throat once her tilted his gaze to the side, catching the cargo that lay behind the truck. Once he did, he surrendered to the silence as no additional dialogue was needed - the truth was before his eyes. The biggest, most absurd truth he had ever seen.

Hitched to the truck was a chain of platforms. Trailed behind in series like a train, all jaws dropped at the cargo of tanks. A smattering collection of all shapes, sizes, and condition but all blue-skinned. And resting on pedestals, they sat like royalty above the stupefied audience.

Now it made sense why it took a monster of a freighter to deliver them.

Lipponen quickly uttered a thanks to the barely-seen driver that mastered the giant truck before she returned to her students. "Alright everybody! Daniel, Katrin, would you be interested in helping me getting our new additions off the trailers? We'll be driving them off, so I'd like our local mechanics to try."

"Sure thing, miss!" Katrin answered enthusiastically.

"S-sure!" replied Daniel.

Zak quickly stepped forward. "Hey miss. My sister and I are gear-heads too. We can help out."

"Oh that would be grand," Lipponen beamed. "We'll take this nice and easy, one tank at a time. I'll come help if you need it. In the meantime…"

Facing the rest of the club members, Lipponen gestured to the tail end of the wagon train where instead of a tank there piled a stack of heavy-looking boxes and ironclad barrels. "... Would you be willing to deliver this to our club? It's all the essential necessities, so it's vital we have them on hand!"

The students all gawked at the mountain of supplies, towering over them in a way the tanks did not. By sight alone they knew it would a great summit to tear down. The climb was promised to be back-breaking in more ways than one.

"... Oh crap."

Zak clambered into the seat, careful to mind the interior and jutting furniture that made for a tight squeeze. He slowly slid in, glad to be seated on something comfortable, even if it was a thin pad of leather. The Darcsen boy now took the time to study the interior he was in, remarking on the unforgiving walls that confined him. The dazzling light in front of his face drew his attention, recognizing the view slit. Glancing down where the sunlight filtered in, Zak spotted the foot pedals and gear stick; innate facilities of a drivable machine. What drew his interest the most however was the presence of two levers in lieu of a steering wheel.

"So, ignition…" Murmuring as he explored, Zak quickly found the dashboard to his side, a series of speedometers and analog readings making for a familiar picture. With Lipponen's scribbled note in hand, Zak felt for the buttons before he found the one he was looking for, denoted only by helpful labels that clued him in.

Pressing it once, then twice, the metal box surrounding Zak sputtered and shook to life. Already the sounds within, kept insulated from the outside thanks to the metal walls, became consumed and deafening by the motor.

"Okay. Hope you didn't mind waking up so soon," Zak commented, raising his voice above the purring din of the engine. Now, diverting his gaze back to the controls, Zak laid his foot on the pedals and his fingers around the sticks. The notes informed him that this tank operated on "clutch steering" and that the twin levers were his means of controlling the tank. Zak was already familiar with the subject, but nonetheless found the prospect of performing it with his own hands to be… riveting.

"Well, one way to learn how this works…"

"Alright, ready?... One, two, three!"

With a strained grunt, Amelia and Abbie hoisted a large crate, a picture of a tank shell painted on its wooden side. They pulled it up, succeeding in lifting the container off the ground. But only a sliver of air of accomplished as they felt their muscles already tighten and strain.

"O-okay, let's move!" The duo hastily began waddling away from the mound of supplies as they shuffled towards the ramp.

But soon their backs began to burn and the pair were forced to yield, the box landing with a soft thud. They barely even made it onto the ramp.

"Argh! Why're shells so damn heavy?!" complained the short-haired redhead. "What they load them with, concrete?"

"Maybe… maybe…" Panting and wheezing, Amelia collapse to rest against the box. Were shells really this heavy? Was it because of the metal; if so how much was there? She didn't think a metal object would be that ponderous to lift. Maybe they really were made with concrete? Is concrete really that heavy? She wasn't sure; she didn't think it would be, but what would she know? It-

Oh wait, she's trying to lift a whole box of shells, Amelia realized. Maybe that's why.

'... Oh hey. Can't I try pushing the box?'

Mustering what remained of her strength, Amelia exerted against the container. Abbie spotted what she was doing and quickly reached the same deduction. "Hey, nice idea! Lemme give you a hand!"

Pushing and jostling, the pair strained against the object, the weight working against them yet again. But where gravity opposed their efforts, this time it proved to be the deciding factor. With each attempt, the box was nudged before finally, heaving a final grunt the crate found the downward slope and slowly began to slide down.

Amelia and Abbie panted out a small cheer. A restrained guffaw joined them as the two looked up to see Frederick's shadow over them.

"Not bad. Though good luck on the rest of the way." He strolled off, a sturdy box cradled in his arms as he marched off, unaffected by the weight that gave the two girls trouble. "You should try finding a hand trolley. There should be one somewhere in the garage."

Amelia's blank stares followed the boy as he walked off, too much in disbelief to form a response to the advice.

Abbie gave an envious glare as her friend walked off only to soon saunter back to carry more. "Damn the nerd and his muscles…"

Pairs of feet shambled next to them. "Heave-ho! Heave-ho you dogs! Let's all put our backs to it!"
"Heh… Who knew adventure could be so heavy, eh Wyk?"
"Rgh! This trash… better be-"
"-worth the weight… in gold!"

"Steady now everyone," Wilheim called out. "This isn't a race."
"True. Still would be nice if they weren't so heavy…"

A sudden yelp whipped their attention around to see it was from Mariah, her hands absent of a heavy crate where her end lay stricken on the ground, Rebeka barely holding onto her end before she too had to give in to the weight. Mariah winced as she cradled her finger.

"Owww… I think I got a splinter…"

Rebeka only sighed in annoyance. "... Help?"

Mariah gave a jump. "Y-yes! Sorry, sorry…"

The evening was creeping in by the time the tankery club hideout became quiet and normal, the giant lorry that delivered the goods long gone with its deed done and paycheck signed. In its place its payload remained, finally sorted and rested in the tankery club's possession. The members were never more than happy to see it all assembled and accounted for, mounds of goods that will no doubt be put to good use even if the strenuous effort to store them was unbearable. They lay strewn about, prostrate before their new possessions (save for Frederick who still remained standing).

But as monumental the supplies were, they paled compared to the new host of tanks, now huddled outside the garage. A herd of blue-skinned beasts sitting idly on the grass-strewn lot. The tankery club's great treasure became accompanied by more, and though they were not made of gold or diamond, they seemingly dazzled in everyones' eyes. New additions to their grand collection, five total.

Amelia feasted her eyes on the new tanks. As dead-tired as she and all others (save for Frederick) were, she couldn't help but remain rapt towards the vehicles. She gazed in wonder; although they were different and smaller than the Type 37 they nonetheless drew her curiosity and excitement.

"Where did you find these tanks, Ms. Lipponen?"

"Why, at a local tank dealership of course!" her teacher answered cheerfully. "There's happens to be a small-time tank store on the other side of the city that had them and all appropriate supplies on sale."

Amelia turned to her with a bewildered look. "Tank dealership… Like where you buy cars? They exist?"

"Well, like any other sport there's always a place where you can buy the necessary goods, even if one may need to dig deep. Tankery is no exception."

"Oh," admitted the young girl. "I see. For a second, I was wondering if we had to 'borrow' them from like, a museum or something…"

Lipponen's face paled. "O-of course not! We would never do such thing, Ms. Gunther! They may be authentic replications but they are built for the express purpose of the sport. Oh! Speaking of which…"

With a playful hum, the teacher trotted over to the first of their new additions, a pair of identical tanks that like the Type 37 bore a blue skin with white stripe. But unlike the Type 37 with its sleek silhouette and angled profile, they were more like one box atop another, capped with stubby-looking cannon barrels. Looking at them was like looking at tanks a child would draw.

Lipponen stopped before one, twirling to her audience as she began her lesson with a sunny disposition. "I present to you, our nation's very first tank and quintessential light tank, the Type 15! Designed and built in the last year of the First Europan War, this was the very first armored vehicle that formed the core of our country's armored force. Simple to produce, use, and even modify, these humble vehicles have defended Gallia for two decades!"

"Huh. Is that right?" said Zak as he finished wiping his brow, stains of sweat still visible when he, Rachel, Daniel, and Katrin were pitched in to help haul the supplies after they had driven the tanks. "Sounds like she's a dependable one."

"Yeah, took me like no time at all to figure out how to drive it," quipped Rachel.

"Must be pretty good if it was used for that long," noted Wilheim.

"Not sure if it looks the part," muttered Lukas.

"Looks… cute, I guess?" Mariah commented, unsure.

Stepping towards the next tank, this one similar to the Type 15 in overall shape and size but with a more streamlined appearance, Lipponen continued with her introductions. "This is Gallia's other light tank, the Type 25! Designed in the interim period, this was almost like a sister to the Type 15, seeing service during the Empire's invasion of Gallia. Although produced in far smaller numbers than the Type 15, the Type 25 is said to have more modern design philosophies than its peer."

Wyker looked over the tank with an attracted eye. "Now that looks like a vessel fit for adventurers."

"Not as sleek or buff-looking as that Type-whatever we already have, but it sure has style to it," added Cindy.

Onto the next tank, Lipponen gestured with her sweeping arm, allowing all the students to see this one's peculiar nature. Unlike the rest which bore distinct turrets, this one was much more restrained with its hunch profile. But upon another look, everyone saw that this one had the unique character of lacking a turret, favoring a squat but thick cannon lancing out from the very front.

"Right here, we have the Type 29 tank destroyer! Compared to the others, you may have already noticed that this one doesn't have a turret. On tanks, not having a turret means you're smaller, so you're less likely to be noticed until it's too late. Combined with its own 88mm gun, the Type 29 excels at ambushing and knocking out other tanks!"

As her pupils murmured with wonderment at the turtle-like tank destroyer's professed potential, Rebeka only gazed with reserved fascination. She never had much interest or knowledge with tanks or tankery but she had given Lipponen her due attention. Now she looked with genuine interest in the subject as she studied the tank destroyer and its gun.

It really was like a turtle. A snapping turtle maybe. They wouldn't make for good cuddling but they could be cute if they tried…

"And uh… what's the last one?"

"Oh this?" Lipponen asked as she loped to the final tank in question. "This is the Type 36 Light Tank A, made after the Empire's invasion of Gallia in 1935! Very light with a good blend of speed, production requirements, and necessary firepower, the Type 36 Light Tank A also doubled as an experimental testbed for future upgrades and models! Don't let its appearance fool you, it has a ton of potential!"

The teacher looked over their last addition with a fond smile on her face, but the same could not be said for her audience. They gazed upon the tank, expecting a monster worthy of the name, only to find the complete opposite: a diminutive body bearing tracks that looked more slapped on with little care and an even more tiny turret bearing the puniest gun they've ever seen.

"I'm so not using that…"
"You'd have to be crazy to even try…"

Lipponen spun around, her sunny smile blissfully unaware of the lackluster reaction garnered from the final tank. "Alright, everyone! That brings our total tanks to six! That'll be plenty for us to get started on our club activities!"

Upon hearing this, all doubt evaporated. Spirits became buoyed to their apex when the club learned that these five additions would become the first step. The foundation from which all their club activities were born from, as their genesis. Only now would the club finally be given life - life to do what it was advertised to do. Tankery was all about the tanks, after all.

Now, all the toil and exhaustion seemed to be worth it.

Lipponen clapped her hands to regain their attention, harnessing their energy towards her. "Okay! Now that everything's settled, let's… begin with… something…"

Slowly but surely, the teacher tilted back, until the inclination proved too much far and turned it into a fall. She flopped hard on the dirt by the time the nearest hands reached her. The sense of alarm surrounded her, urgent expressions fluttering about like moths to a flame.

"W-what happened?!"
"Is something wrong with our teacher…?"
"M-Ms. Lipponen!"

"Just… give me five more minutes…" the club advisor murmured, rolling over with a groan. "... Not like… I had much sleep… myself yesterday…"

And with that, she began snoring.

"... Huh?!" the whole club rang in unison. But as cacophonous their astonished choir was and as much as their shadows and prodding fingers fell upon the teacher, it was no use. Ms. Lipponen was fast asleep with a dreamy stupor upon her face.

Their club made another step, another great leap forward in progress towards its destiny. Yet it will not be realized today. Not today with the distant cawing of crows echoing faintly in the darkening skies.

Frederick could only deflate in exasperation. "Great. What a day…"

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Now we get a taste for what this fic needs: more tanks! I had originally planned to have their inclusion come differently and have a separate chapter/event for the new team members, but with the rate of progress I felt it would be better for you all if I combined it all in one chapter: get two birds with one stone by having the new cast along with the new tanks.

And speaking of tanks, allow me to give some background. In the first and third Valkyria games, the tanks used by Gallia had simply been referred to as "Gallian Light Tanks". Since VC2 confirmed that Gallian tanks use the "Type" designations, I've decided that the Gallian Light Tanks will retroactive be called the "Type 15" in reference to how the tanks were first designed and made near the end of EWI in accordance to VC lore.

The Type 25 light tank is the name I've given to Gallia's other light tank, which showed up in VC3 as the "Light Tank C" (with the iconic light tank as the "B" model). A Light Tank C was used as Audrey Gassenarl's personal vehicle in 1935. Since it was apparently in Gallian service in time of the Imperial invasion but only in the third game, I've decided to treat those tanks as another production model made between the Europan Wars, albeit produced in smaller numbers and less ubiquitous than the Type 15 (because it would make no sense for a country to use the same damn tank made 20 years ago).

Type 29 is what I've designated Gallia's tank destroyer which never made it into the games proper though the ingame models still exist in the game files. It also made a split-second cameo as a blueprint hanging on Varrot's office in the first game so I've taken that as proof that they exist somewhere in the VC universe (not to mention that they show up in the artbooks too). Details are incredibly scarce so I'll be filling in the gaps myself, such as the crew size and gun caliber.

Now, onto characters. One of the interesting facets of making this story was conjuring far-off descendants of the VC characters but at the same time, one of the harder parts was picking and choosing who to include. Originally, the "Squad 7" gang was going to be more contained and limited, but that constrained the amount of tanks the school would have. The inclusion of the Skies of Arcadia characters helped boost the head (and tank) count, not to mention they'd make for interesting characters personality-wise. You can imagine them to be Lion Paw's equivalent of Ooarai's Shark Team.

And while I'm at it, I should throw in a disclaimer before anyone gets confused. The Landzaat siblings, though they share the same last name, are not meant to be descendents of Faldio from VC1. They're meant to be descendents of Karl Landzaat and Lynn who according to their biography married after the war.