A Young Girl's Outer Heaven
14
Commissioned by mindgames.
It was a bit crowded as we all climbed into Swift Return and Edwina began taxiing down the runway, but no one complained. Well, no one save for the governor.
"What is that doing here?" he spat at the unconscious communist tied up and secured to a wooden folding chair in the rear of the sitting section.
One of my men came to attention and answered, "We trailed the cars the Russy agents escaped in and ambushed them. We managed to eliminate most of them, but a few of their people got away. This communist was the only one without a mask, so we thought he must be important. Important enough to capture and bring in for interrogation, at least."
"Good work," I grinned, sitting down in one of the comfy chairs. "Put him in the back, out of our sight. He's stinking up the whole cabin. Keep a guard on him though. I don't want him getting loose." The commie stank of piss and the entire front of his pants were one big dark spot. I'd have had the men strip them off and throw them out of the plane, but we were already airborne and I didn't want to open the doors for that. Thankfully, this would be a relatively short flight.
"Ma'am!" the men saluted, and a pair of them dragged comrade Rabinovich towards the toilet.
Of course, that was the lie we were selling, to keep Pedro's hands clean in this. He couldn't feel guilt, discomfort, or react poorly if he simply didn't know the facts of the matter. That the reality was, comrade Ivan there was the only Russy agent anyone saw that night. That the men on the plane now, those who were ostensibly part of our security detail, were in fact the very gunmen who had gunned down a crowd and then blown up and burned the building they were in. And to be fair, I didn't think that knowledge would go over well with our friend the governor—or the nosy little reporter currently sitting directly beside him on a couch with a pen and notepad.
"…And what would you like to say to the leaders of the Russy Federation, Governor Vazquez?" the woman asked, and I spoke up.
"Politburo."
"Hm?" she asked, looking up and over at me.
"The highest political organ in most communist parties is called a politburo. Political bureau. Politbyuro, or politicheskoye byuro in the Rus language. Officially, they call themselves the Central Committee. They're generally made up of the upper echelons of leadership of the triangle of power and hate that makes up the Federation government: the Party at the top and the military and KGB at the bottom."
"The… what?" the reporter asked, flipping to a new page.
"KGB, or komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti. The Committee for State Security." I smiled and added, "Or in plain, simple language: the secret police. Those who spy on the public to remove dissenters."
"That's… terrifying," the reporter murmured, shaking her head before turning back to the governor.
Pedro, having had time to compose a response beyond his initial gut reaction, wore a rather hard look as he began to speak. "What would I tell them? Nothing. Not with words. This has officially become a war. My answer will come in the form of bullets, bombs, and spells, and I will not stop giving that answer as loudly as I can until they are driven from our home. Then, and only then, may we waste words with a foreign aggressor a hemisphere away."
The reporter nodded, a look in her eyes that I recognized as she glanced up at Pedro, scribbling frantically in her notebook. That was the kind of manic devotion you couldn't buy. A sort of near-zealotry, really.
I turned away and grabbed a book as she interviewed him, eating up his every word. A moment later, I found myself pushed over in my chair and then sharing space with Visha. Frowning, I quietly murmured, "Not in front of the men."
Her answer was a quiet scoff. "It won't ruin your image, colonel. Look at them."
I glanced up from my book to find that the men were all either napping or quietly involved in their own conversations. None of them were even looking at us.
Completely by coincidence, I'm sure, I mused, as I caught Grantz glancing over. He met my gaze and grinned, before giving a cheeky thumbs up and turning back to his conversation.
"So the truth is, my reputation is already ruined and I can't make it any worse."
Visha giggled. "Yup! Why fight it?"
I sighed and focused on my book. It's mostly harmless in this case anyway. The plane is crowded and I'm small enough that we can share. Besides, she's my adjutant. Everyone already knows Visha and I are practically joined at the hip. They're certainly aware that we bunk together. I haven't coerced her into anything or abused my position. There's nothing improper going on here. We're not in any sort of romantic or sexual relationship. It's… fine.
Visha yawned, stretched, and laid her head on my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me, making herself comfortable and settling in for a nap. A quiet snicker sounded from somewhere in the plane. Looking up again, ready to tear someone a new asshole and fill it with my boot, I found Pedro sending me an amused look.
My eye twitched.
This is fine!
We landed in Bellum and Pedro's protective detail met us on the airfield with a car, along with a squad of mages in a truck for our guest. We saw Pedro and the reporter off, then escorted the struggling Russy agent down the steps of the plane. Upon seeing me, he went wide eyed and let out a quiet moan around his gag, before he went limp in the arms of the men escorting him.
I smiled as he was loaded into the back of the armored truck. A major under Weiss, whom I was pretty sure was the head of our Intelligence division, snapped off a salute. "We'll take it from here, ma'am! Is there anything in particular you want from him, before we get to work?"
I considered for a moment before nodding. "I want to know what he was using to buy the politicians he was speaking with. His sales pitch, as it were. If we know the lies they're telling us, we'll know what their aims are, even if he doesn't have official orders on the matter. Also, see if he knows their immediate plans as of yesterday, before the attack tonight. Anything he knows about it. Orders, scuttlebutt, I don't care. I need to know the reaction of those in command down here. Then have him guess as to their reaction to tonight's attack. Keep him as a guest for a few days while we confirm what we can, then dispose of him."
Nodding, the major grinned and asked, "Would you prefer fertilizer or fish food, ma'am?"
"Considering the commies' habit of starving those under their regime, fertilizer would be the more poetic of the two. In fact, I have an idea in mind. A little gardening project… Let me know when you're done with him."
The major snapped off a salute and hurried to the truck's passenger door. Soon enough, it was just myself, Visha, and Edwina left on the airfield. Our pilot stormed over with an annoyed look. "What did you do?! The entire rear cabins smell like piss!"
I winced. "Ah, sorry. The prisoner pissed himself."
Edwina put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "Eu deveria fazer voce limpar com uma escova de dente, sua vadia!"
Beside me, Visha flinched, looking between us—and my sidearm—with a worried expression as the stream of invective continued. "Colonel," she began quietly, and I cast her a glance. " You can't shoot her!"
I sent my adjutant a confused look. "What makes you think I was going to?" When she simply sent me a deadpan look, I sighed. Holding up a hand, Edwina fell silent and I asked, "Don't we have a punishment detail?"
Visha considered it for a moment and nodded. "We do. Some of the men got rather rowdy last weekend and came in drunk. Lt. Col. Weiss has them cleaning latrines."
"Wunderbar~," I leered. "Reassign them to Edwina. They're to clean the plane to her satisfaction." Turning to the fuming pilot, I added, " All of the planes. Is that satisfactory?"
" This time," she hissed. "Next time, don't drag some bitch who can't hold his bladder into one of my babies! At the very least, hose him down first or something!"
I held up both hands, warding her off. "Alright, alright. Captain, inform the men. Any prisoners we bring aboard one of Edwina's planes are to be in a state fit for transport."
"Understood, ma'am," Visha nodded, a smile twitching at her lips.
Turning on her heel, the pilot stormed off the tarmac, throwing a single fingered salute over her shoulder as she headed for home. When I chuckled, Visha sent me an odd look. "What? I think she's funny."
"More like she doesn't know enough to be scared of you," Visha muttered as we took to the air to head home ourselves.
"That just makes it more fun." It was a nice change of pace, having someone talk to me like an equal, without either the distance of rank between us, the respect (and occasionally fear) of those who had been with me the longest, or worse, the… I wanted to call it adoration of some of the men of late.
Shaking my head, I turned my mind to the immediate future. The plan was in motion and now, we had to make sure that things happened the way we wanted. Weiss would have started moving Phase Two into place already—men traveling by car to the homes of those politicians who were left alive with a list of those we wanted elevated to power to replace those killed tonight, and to make sure they understood the severity of what had happened and how Governor, or rather how Presidente Vazquez was the only man who could save their nation from more of the same. With our help, of course.
Of course, those men who either didn't attend or who weren't killed, but were on the list to be removed, would be receiving an entirely different kind of visit. Doors kicked in in the middle of night and commie terrorists with machine guns mowing them down where they slept. It was a tragedy, but an unavoidable one. Luckily, I was fairly certain that these 'communists' had orders to limit casualties and wouldn't eliminate entire families.
I wouldn't be personally needed again until it was time for Pedro to start campaigning in earnest and then pushing our agenda forward. We estimated a week or two at most, for Phase Two to complete, then for the remainder of the government to pop their heads up and feel safe enough to meet in person again. We had a plan for that, actually. Pedro was going to suggest they meet on our little island. It was the safest places for them—surrounded by (theoretically) loyal aerial mages who would everything in our power to keep the commies from getting to them.
Until then, there are some things I can take care of. I need to speak with Herr Doktor Schugel again and introduce the idea of satellites. Given my lack of need to breathe, I can lift the first of them up myself, if he can throw something useful together sometime soon. I would love to have something that I can use to observe most of Brasa with. Removing the fog of war is imperative to any battle, be it physical, political, or mental. Whoever has the most information tends to win.
We're in a race with the Americans, the Russy, the Commonwealth, and others who would see us destroyed before we grew to be a true threat. We need to accelerate. To build faster, bigger, better, cheaper, and smarter than they are. To outpace them so far, so quickly, that they can never hope to catch up without outright stealing the technology from us. Luckily, I have a cheat sheet of all the technological greatest hits of my old world and a madman who can translate pure technology into magi-technology.
…We really need to do something to secure Doktor Schugel's legacy. Does he have any children? His previous students and underlings were captured by the Russy and this batch is going to take some time to train up. Perhaps we should have him record lessons or something. We need to start planning for the future and his loss today, so we aren't crippled when it happens. We can't allow our country and our future to be dependent upon one man, no matter how brilliant.
Opening the door to Dr. Schugel's lab, I blinked as I took in the changes since I'd last visited. Machinery had been fabricated and installed and was now humming away as his lab assistants worked at what looked like a cross between old fashioned typewriter keyboards and digital keyboards, cables from them trailing to what looked to my eyes like computers, with the sort of monitors on top that some of the most advanced magi-tech equipment used to display video and other data feeds from the field. But the internals of those machines, I knew, were all primitive electronics. Diodes, vacuum tubes, early circuits, and the like. Nothing this advanced and certainly nothing this small.
I vaguely remembered signing off on about half of this stuff—or at least, the raw materials. I didn't need to think back, I spun up a formula and directly recalled the requisition forms for the doctor that I had signed off on over the last months and the state of his lab in the intervening time, during the few times I had visited. I frowned as I realized that technically everything was accounted for. All of the materials were explicitly listed as being for the purpose of fabricating new lab equipment. I just hadn't expected this, or a sudden jump over about the course of a week from materials to finished product.
"Ah! Colonel! You're here!" Schugel noticed me standing at the door and stood, waving me over. "Come, come! This should interest you! After all, it was your idea!"
"Which idea, exactly?" I asked as I approached, more wary now.
Schugel proudly gestured towards a big, metal box of some sort set on top of a table. Picking up a bar of what might be steel and a small bead of elinium, he opened the box and pushed both inside, before closing it again. Moving over to one of those steampunk inspired keyboards and screens, he began tapping away. I watched over his shoulder as he took a few moments to select what I recognized were the common names for formulas, before he did something to finalize the process. A moment later, the box shuddered on the table, but I heard no sound.
"It was so loud we had to stick a noise canceling formula on the housing, otherwise it would leave us deaf. But now, it's quiet as a mouse as it works away diligently at the task I've assigned it," Schugel beamed.
"And what task was that?"
"You will see. It takes a few minutes. In the meantime, can I interest you in a coffee?"
I nodded and we made our way over to a coffee pot in the corner of the room. As we began fixing ourselves a cup each, I asked, "It's fabricating a computation orb, isn't it?"
The mad scientist beamed. "Yes! Well, no. Not a computation orb. With no need for them to be worn on a person, we've been able to optimize the shape for installation and use in machinery."
"And it's still purely analog?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow as he sipped at his cup. "It runs off of a physical internal mechanism. Springs, gears, and the like, as the computation orbs do. It's not digital, using only circuits, diodes, and the like?"
Schugel frowned, his eyes going distant as he stared into his cup. "No, no. It's still purely mechanical, minus the magical parts. But that is a very interesting idea. It's a shame that vacuum tubes are so large. A purely 'digital' configuration would surely calculate much faster, but it would necessitate a much larger frame."
"Have you considered semiconductor materials?"
Blinking, Schugel looked up and met my eyes. "By which you mean…?"
"Silicon, germanium, gallium arsenide, graphene. Basically any solid state conductor, instead of something trying to jump electrons across a gap in a vacuum or through ionized gas. Do you have some paper and a pen?"
Schugel quickly fished out a small notebook from his breast pocket and flipped to a new page, before handing me his pen. I took a moment to recall a few basic diagrams I vaguely remembered from the classes I had been required to take in both high school and later, in college—nothing more complex than an n-p-n transistor diagram and generally how a basic transistor should look.
When I handed the notebook back to him, Dr. Schugel's hands shook as he took a look at it before closing it up and slipping it into his pocket again. I frowned, wondering if we shouldn't get him scheduled for some medical checkups. Shaking like that could just be caffeine jitters, or it could be a sign of something more serious. Schugel was not a young man and I didn't want to be responsible for driving him to an early grave.
I made a mental note to do just that, and perhaps see about getting him some more help around the lab—more assistants to take the workload off. I made another mental note to look into forcing him to take some time every weekday to speak with younger students and perhaps find a few that met his expectations for something with a bit more promise than a simple lab assistant in the future.
The man had, with very little input on my part, jumped straight from the idea of a (magical) computer driven assembly line to what amounted to (magical) 3d printing in the span of a week. As much of a pain in the ass as he could be, we couldn't stand to lose that sort of intellect to time. Anything I could do to prolong the time we had him for, I would.
" Ahem," the mad scientist cleared his throat, before gesturing towards the 3d printer in question. "The assembly has finished. Let us have a look."
I followed the doctor over as he opened up the machine and pulled out a tray containing an icosahedron roughly the size of a baseball and a bunch of metal scraps and shavings. Taking out the baseball sized twenty-sided polyhedron, he grinned and moved across the room as I followed. Setting the chunk of metal down on a small metal plate on the table, he moved over a clamp with a probe on the end of it and a wire leading to a switch—and upon closer inspection, I noticed a second wire on the metal plate. Setting the probe into place against the top of the newly printed computation device, he secured the clamp and flipped the switch.
"Of course, there is simply too much loss in the conversion of mana to electricity to make it viable on anything but the small scale or with a massive source of mana. It is wasteful in the extreme. On the other hand, in the inverse, it doesn't matter! Whether you are burning coal or using a hydroelectric dam, the benefits to using electricity to generate mana are too great to ignore! We can speed up the process of charging a mana battery immensely this way! Why, after just a day of charging, we were able to produce a bomb with a yield greater than anything the Imperial forces ever deployed!" He cast me a glance and appended, "Aside from yourself, of course."
I blinked as a chill ran down my spine. "You've already tested one?"
"Yes, of course!" Schugel nodded. Seeing my suddenly pale face, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop fretting so, colonel. I followed all of your silly safety precautions. We built a platform and hauled it out to sea, then detonated it remotely. It exploded marvelously!"
"I see," I murmured, before the implications hit me. "Herr Doktor… You said it took a day to charge?"
"That it did," he nodded.
"And it took you how long to produce the computation device for the bomb itself?"
He grinned. "Much less time than it took to make this beauty," he gestured at the orb currently charging. " This is a multi-purpose piece of equipment I've been working on with the thought of having it guide a plane! No, the ones in the bombs are much smaller and simpler. All they need to do is absorb and store mana, fly a bomb, and then detonate. Six formulas. This one has many more."
"And you could make another of these?" I asked, gesturing at the 3d printer.
"Easily! With more space, I could make them larger. I am sure there are hundreds of ways to optimize it for an industrial environment. This is just a small unit I've made for creating prototypes here in the lab, after all."
"Herr Doktor, please have blueprints for the basic unit drawn up and a list of requirements on my desk by the end of the week. If one or two of your assistants would like to aid the process by adding improvements and optimizing the design, then please put them on the task. However, don't worry too much about the small details of anything not connected to the magical aspects. I am sure we have several men by now among those who have relocated here from the Empire who are familiar with factory work and can likely work out the best way of putting it to use."
"If you intend to start using these to turn out bombs, then I'll add the latest design for the smart bombs, so they can build both the payload and casing in a single facility," Schugel nodded, taking out his notepad and making a note of it.
"Excellent," I nodded. A thought occurred and I asked, "It wouldn't be difficult at all to make single purpose magical foci this way, would it? Shields, rifles that shoot only magic bullets, heavy weapons that fire only explosive formulas. Things we could train a group of regular troops to use, which could be deployed in the field and then recharged when they came back?"
Schugel laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "Simplicity itself! But if you are going to do that, you may as well incorporate some of the ideas of modern firearms. We could separate out the elinium mana batteries into magazines, so they can be reloaded in the field. Oh! It would be far easier to send troops with one or two weapons than a dozen weapons for a dozen different tasks! Why not engineer the weapons such that one can flip a switch or turn a dial and switch between functions? Normal magic bullets for one setting, explosive formulas for another, sniping formulas for another, lasers for another! A piece of body armor that produces omni-directional shields, single-directional shields, NBC screens, camouflage! Another piece of kit that enables flight! You obviously wouldn't be able to do away with aerial mages, of course. The aerial mage would always be superior. But a well-trained force equipped with all of the basic tools of the aerial mage? The level of your regular troops would be far above that of the enemy, by dint of having access to magical equipment!"
The doctor's enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning ear to ear as I imagined having our own elite force of troops who could completely obliterate enemy troops with their superior gear. "I'll speak with Weiss and have him put together a small unit to work with you on this, to determine what would best suit our needs. We may need to design a new weapon from the ground up. If you can work out the magical aspects, we can handle the physical."
Downing the rest of my coffee, I continued, "But as helpful as all of this has been, it's not why I came here today. It does help with several issues I hadn't foreseen with what I wanted, however."
Schugel raised an eyebrow. "Hoh? You came to me for something specific. This should be good! Let's hear it, then!"
"Mm. As you know, intelligence on the battlefield is key. From things as simple as the terrain and the weather, to the position of your troops and the enemy's movements. Reconnaissance and intelligence gathering have won and lost wars. Being able to gather and relay that information quickly, accurately, consistently, and covertly—and preferably in a way the enemy can't do something about. That is what I want. Total information awareness."
"Of course," Schugel nodded. "Yes, such would give us a huge advantage. If you can't see the chessboard except for the nearest squares, it would be difficult to plan your next move. Being able to see the board in its entirety and know what pieces your enemy has available is a godsend—especially if the enemy lacks that advantage. So, what did you have in mind? A new type of reconnaissance aircraft? Perhaps an instrument package? Something troops can deploy from the field?"
I smirked. "Think bigger. Higher, in fact."
"Higher?" Schugel murmured, stroking his beard. "Balloons?"
" Higher, herr doktor. I want to put a manmade satellite into orbit. Something much like that," I pointed to the computation device currently charging, "but equipped with observation formulas. What I'm thinking is simple. If we lack the capability and infrastructure to create rocket fuel at the moment, then we skip the rockets. You've already showed that we can use electricity to charge an orb with mana. So, we build a rocket that uses flight formulas instead. Its only purpose is to gain altitude, separate from the package, then come back down and burn up upon reentry. Between six hundred to twelve hundred miles up should be good enough for putting a satellite into orbit for observation, if I'm not mistaken. We'll have to test, obviously.
"The package itself would have its own flight formulas and other formulas to keep its orientation, altitude, and position above the Earth's surface. It would ideally have a few formulas for visual observation, infrared, ultraviolet, radio, radar, and mana signature detection. It should be capable of sending data and receiving new instructions at any time. It would also need to be able to keep itself charged, so it stays up indefinitely—the same ambient mana collection and fixing formulas you want to put on the larger bombs. Unless you can come up with a small power source to keep it up indefinitely? I want to put one right overhead as a test. In the future, I want models that are focused on communication, relaying magical and radio signals. Say, we record a video of Governor Vazquez giving a speech here. I want to be able to then transmit that recording to a satellite, which when beams it back down over a much wider area, all across Brasa, to anyone with the equipment to receive it. Which is another goal we need to work towards—making screens like the one you have there common and affordable for the common person."
At some point, Schugel had taken out his notepad again and begun frantically writing. "Yes, yes, I see," he murmured, nodding along. "Which would you like me to focus on first?"
I didn't hesitate at all with my answer. "The satellite. Information is key. Especially if we can use it to find enemy mages operating in country. The more we know, the easier it will be to root out the commie infestation. After that, I want those production units," I gestured towards the 3d printer, "and I want you to arrange for a group to be trained in their operation. Specifically, in adding in designs for things for them to produce. I'm giving the green light on whatever you need to make that happen as quickly as possible. Fill out the forms and I'll rubber stamp them. Information, production, and acquisition of resources—those are the three areas where we need to focus as a country in the coming five years. Coincidentally, that overlaps neatly with where we, where MSF needs to focus as a company to expand and improve."
"Very well, colonel! I will contact you as soon as I have something ready," Schugel grinned, turning away and moving to a chalkboard as he began to work.
I left him to it, leaving the lab. Opening a channel, I broadcast, "Lt. Col. Weiss. What's your position?"
A moment later, he answered, "In the office, colonel. Do you need something?"
"Yes. I need you to put together a small team of people for me for a bit of a brainstorming session for new weapons and equipment. Make sure to include our regulars, not just aerial mages. I want the ground troops to make out a wishlist. I'll explain more when I get there."
"Understood, ma'am. Half an hour, in the conference room?"
"That's good."
Moskva, Russy Federation, a little over a month later…
"…and it is our conclusion that the current abysmal state of our crop yields is due to the proletariat farmers simply not working hard enough, Comrade Joseph."
Joseph leaned back in his seat, rubbing his fingers over his mustache. "I see," he murmured, frowning. Nodding, he eventually came to a conclusion. " From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. If the farmers lack the ability to farm, then clearly they have no need of food. Those who do not work shall not eat. Seize the farms and remove the farmers. If they cannot use a sickle then they will learn to use a hammer. Send them to the mines. Replace them with people who want to work. If those do not work, or cannot produce the yields we need, then let them starve. Now," he turned towards one of the men further down the table, "what is the word on our Imperial scientist guests?"
"Big things, Comrade Joseph! They believe they have found a way to remove the need for a mage in the use of magic!"
"Excellent. As it should be," Joseph nodded. "Tell me more."
Lavrentiy Loria sighed quietly, listening as one of the men went on about some breakthrough or another. His interest was only mildly piqued at the implication that, should it succeed, then they could finally rid the Federation of the blight of mages. Thank God!
It was honestly just unsightly that they had to rely on them to match the Empire's own mages. No man should have that much power over his fellow man. It went against God's plan and more importantly, it went against everything they believed in. It was hard to convince the people that they were all equal when some of them could fly and others could not, after all!
The door to the meeting room clicked open and a messenger hurried in, bringing everyone the morning post. This was nothing unusual in and of itself and Loria thought nothing of it as he accepted a parcel for himself and the messenger moved on.
Looking over the brown wax paper wrapped parcel held together with twine, Loria raised an eyebrow as he spotted the postage mark indicating it had come from overseas—Brasa, of all places, before being forwarded through several departments and eventually finding its way to his hands. Taking out his pocket knife, he opened the package and laid its contents out before him. There, he found a few typed out reports, a folded newspaper, and a small stack of photographs.
Flipping the newspaper open, his hands clenched it tightly as he beheld the front page—and the devilish angel in the photograph there. "UUUOOOHHH~!"
Loria stood, knocking his chair to the floor as he turned the photographs over and found more of the same. Images of her! Of that Imperial mage who had so humiliated them—and so aroused him! He felt himself shaking, his hands going pale around the photographs as he felt his face heat up and a discomfort grow in his pants.
"Comrade Loria? Is something the matter?" Comrade Joseph asked, and it was only then that Loria faintly realized the entire meeting had gone silent. He had interrupted them and made a scene, but he couldn't bring himself to care. This was too important!
"N-nothing is," he licked his lips, swallowing thickly as drool pooled in his mouth as he flipped to the next photo, staring at her delicious, small, delicate figure—pale even in the black and white photographs, "nothing is the matter Comrade Joseph. No! No, no, no, no, no~! Nothing could be further from the truth, in fact!"
Joseph let out a sigh that Loria knew tended to precede someone being sent to the gulag, but he just didn't care! Not even Comrade Joseph's ire could cool his ardor! "Well? Spit it out, then? What is it?"
" I've found her~!" Loria's grin was so large it hurt. "And I CANNOT GET ANY MORE ERECT THAN I AM AT THIS MOMENT!" There were noises of disgust from the others in the room, but he ignored them. They didn't understand— couldn't understand! "Comrade Joseph! Send me to Brasa with an entire battalion of aerial mages! No, two! Three~! We will capture the delicious, I mean despicable war criminal! The one who humiliated us so thoroughly with that propaganda video, so brazenly flying the Imperial flag over our capital! THE DEVIL OF THE RHINE WILL BE MINE~!"
