RUSSY AWAKENS FROM ITS NIGHTMARE !
Through cooperation with the Unified States Army, joined by not only a battlegroup of mages from Albion but also the remnants of the scattered Federation Army, rallied under one Commander Zhenkov, our brave soldiers were able to hold the line against the horde of monsters responsible for the desolation of Moskva, whilst the Wunderwaffen were deployed on a scale previously never seen to deal with the source of this vile scourge : a beast of immense size, responsible for the Solstice Event and believed to have been created by the Federation's reckless attempts to create their own Wunderwaffen.
While the total number of human casualties has yet to be tallied, it is already believed to be severe, as tens of thousands of soldiers gave their lives to stop this evil from consuming the world. The Kaiser has announced the creation of a new, special order of merit, the Star of Mankind, for every single soldier who took part in the battle, regardless of their country of origin. Numerous established decorations and honors shall also be bestowed upon the brave heroes of the Empire, alive or dead.
Colonel Lergen of the Imperial Army and General Hutton of the Unified States Army have begun cooperating with Commander Zhenkov in order to deal with the aftermath of this momentous victory. Though the threat to Europa has been adverted, there is still much to be done before the Imperial Army can return home, as the ruined capital of Russy must be cleansed of any lingering taint in order to ensure this menace to all things holy never returns.
In addition, with the entire top leadership of the Federation having perished in the Solstice Event, the fate of the country remains uncertain. At the very least, however, the refugees who have been welcomed within the Reich can now rest easy, knowing that the monsters which chased them from their homes have been slain …
Excerpt from the front-page of the Berun Post, August 5th, 1926.
"… readings show worrying similarities with those first observed within the Northern Wing of Castle Schwartzstein following the Projekt V incident. Although the achronal disruptions have diminished with the demise of Being K, allowing for the local day-night cycle to resume properly, it is clear that the aftershocks will linger for what might be years or even centuries to come.
As such, all personel operating in the Moskva area are instructed to stay in groups of at least ten individuals, remaining within eyesight of one another at all time. Although the mechanics underpinning this phenomenon are still unknown, previous instances of such distortions within Castle Schwartzstein indicate that maintaining constant observation has a stabilizing effect on the surroundings. Such numbers should also be enough to deal with more mundane dangers such as collapses or the psychological burden of walking amidst the graves of hundreds of thousands.
The corpse of Being K itself (thereafter referred to as 'Object K') has proven frustratingly resilient to the efforts to dispose of it. Despite the protean nature it displayed during its battle with the Director, its bones are unbreakable by conventional means, and all but the most concentrated of mana blades have failed to penetrate them.
While there is no doubt that the remains of the entity would make for fascinating research material, the risk of pieces getting lost, either naturally or due to post-mortem achronal manipulation by the entity itself, is far too great to take the chance. As such, it is the Division's official recommendation that, once the corpse has been reduced as much as possible, it be buried under a dome of concrete, reinforced by as many layers of arcane seals as can be fitted on the resulting sarcophagus.
How long it will take for Object K's emanations to cease remains a matter of pure conjecture at this stage, but it is our experts' recommendation that we err on the side of caution and assume the region might remain contaminated for centuries to come."
From a Division Y report concerning the Moskva Blast Site, August 5th, 1926.
"… placing the core of Mjölnir back in containment was more difficult than we hoped, but we still managed it with only two additional fatalities, whose protective suits were unable to completely shield from the crystal's presence and who had to be executed before they sabotaged the process entirely.
The casualty rate among the firing team, on the other hand, was almost total. Our estimates of the Wunderwaffe's output were clearly inadequate, though whether this is due to a mistake in our initial calculations or the unique circumstances of the battlefield introducing unforeseen variables has yet to be clarified. Only one survivor was found on site : American Chief Scientist Nicol Teslus, who was found miraculously still alive, albeit badly burned and in need of immediate magical healing.
Over eighty percent of Mister Teslus' body is covered in burns, and one of his eyes appears to have melted in its socket. His lungs have been badly injured from the superheated air, and the amount of nerve damage he has endured is such that, without magical healing, he would likely never be able to so much as lift a pen again. However, thanks to the prompt intervention of mage healers immediately after his discovery, his condition has now stabilized and his life is no longer in danger.
Per the guidelines laid down by the Director, Mister Teslus is to be kept under guard until he wakes up, at which point he will be examined for Mythos contamination, both physical and mental. Our American allies have been informed of this, and while they aren't happy about the prospect of losing him, they understand the necessity of caution in this matter. Given the importance of Mister Teslus to the USA's own superweapons program, all care shall be given to his treatment."
From a Division Y report concerning the status of Projekt M after Operation Gottesmörder, August 5th, 1926.
August 5th, 1926 – Allied Forces Camp
Despite everything, Andrei was still alive.
It had been far from a sure thing. Many of the Okhotniks had died in the battle against the Dark Mother's horde : less than a third of their original number still drew breath. But Andrei had made it through to the end. He'd killed more beasts and seen more men die than he could count, drowning his fear in blood under the pale illumination of the Lady of Stars until the great horror itself had fallen.
He had felt it die, like every Okhotnik. The Grandmother's sigils may keep the Dark Mother from controlling them or turning them into beasts, but they didn't completely sever the connection to the source of the not-meat they'd been told to eat.
The pain had been beyond description. If not for the fact the Progeny had been affected even worse, he would definitely have died while clawing at the ground and screaming himself hoarse, completely unable to defend himself.
But the pain had passed, and in its place, there was an … emptiness, somewhere deep within Andrei which he couldn't name. Yet at the same time, it felt like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, one he'd grown used to without realizing in the last weeks – likely because, after the agony that had consumed him before the Grandmother had saved him, it had seemed too petty to worry about.
A strange mood had descended upon the Allied Forces (which was apparently what this weird collection of soldiers from all across the world was called). There was the relief of having survived the battle which all soldiers felt after such a close call, but it was mixed with something else, something Andrei felt he lacked the education to put properly into words.
So, in typically pragmatic Russy fashion, the Federation soldiers had been put to work so they wouldn't have the time or energy to think too hard about things. They walked across the battlefield, sorting the corpses between the human ones who had to be cleansed and either shipped back to their homeland or buried right here, and the Progeny ones, which were thrown into the great, magically-lit pyres. It was hard, ugly work, but it had to be done, and Andrei was grateful to have something to do.
Supplies were still coming from the Empire. In addition to the fuel needed to set fire to the piles of corpses, the Imperial logistic machine also brought enough food to feed everyone, and materials to start the construction of a large tomb for the Dark Mother's corpse. Andrei didn't envy the architects who had to come up with a design for that, but he knew that the sooner that thing was hidden from the rest of the world, the better.
The Russy soldiers who had come from the regions devastated by the Progeny were talking about sending letters to the refugees who had sought safety in the Empire, in the hope that their families had made it out alive. Andrei, at least, didn't have to worry about that : his home town was about as far from Moskva as you could get while still being part of the Federation. Which, given Andrei couldn't read or write, was no small blessing.
For years, ever since leaving his village, Andrei had thought he knew what the future had in store for him. He would fight, he would obey orders, and unless he was really, really lucky, he would die and be forgotten, the only acknowledgment of his death the Party would give a short letter to his family, with a cheap medal accompanying it.
But now he was alive, and nobody, it seemed, was quite sure what the future held in store. It was a strange feeling, but, on reflection, not one he disliked.
"Although the Director has yet to awaken from her slumber, I see no reason to believe that she won't do so naturally in time. Her vitals remain strong, and I cannot find anything wrong with her, which is a change from her previous exams.
The changes in her body resulting from her use of Kosmosblut have completely reverted. Director Degurechaff is, to all appearances, an ordinary ten-years old girl with the mana capacity of a standard aerial mage. Any mental impact this might have had will need to be evaluated once she awakens, but no trace of physical trauma could be found during my examination.
This flies against what we all expected to happen if she continued to use the serum, which was either a collapse of her biological functions under the strain of channelling more mana than any unaugmented human body is capable of, or being permanently stuck in her altered form. While our understanding of the effects of repeated ingestion of the Kosmosblut remains highly theoretical despite our best efforts, I can only assume that something must have happened between the death of Being K and the Director's recovery by Adjutant Serebryakov and Aerial Mage Zerayah.
It is my hope that, once the Director wakes up, she'll be able to shed some light on the details of her miraculous recovery. For now, however, I advise that she be returned to Castle Schwartzstein at once, where additional resources can be employed toward her recovery and, more importantly, she won't risk being exposed to whatever fallout of Being K's demise we might yet have to identify.
[The following line was added after the rest of the report was finished, signed and delivered, and was clearly written by a different hand.]
A familiar environment when she wakes up might also aid in her recovery, and if she's far from here, she won't be able to throw herself right back into work – which, knowing her, she definitely would."
From the confidential report of Doctor Iosefka (for Colonel Lergen's eyes only), August 5th, 1926.
"A little under half of the Werwölfe deployed as part of Operation Gottesmörder fell in battle (exact numbers are yet to be determined, due to the precarious state of several of the survivors even with their regenerative abilities, and the remote possibility that more immobile wounded might be found on the battlefield in the coming days).
Of the forty-one Untoten who took part in the battle, sixteen survived the engagement. As all of them had partaken of the Endlose Nacht, they are now afflicted with the same side-effects which were previously observed for their number of uses : first, the inability to cross over large bodies of water, and then a state of torpor during daylight hours. Those who had already used the serum twice before, in addition to the previously mentioned effects, have had their eyes turn completely black (which does not affect their vision), and drain the heat of their surroundings, turning any room they are in to freezing temperatures.
Additionally, our stocks of mage blood are all but exhausted : it is all we can do to keep the surviving Untoten fed with our available supply. We recommend sending them back to Castle Schwartzstein and closer to the source as soon as possible. Given Adjutant Serebryakov's attachment to the Director (for her own unique situation, see the attached, separated report) and Doctor Iosefka's recommendations, we suggest they be transported alongside the Director herself.
Only three of the Hünen remain functioning, and four of the others are beyond repair, the entities bound within them having perished during their battle against the Kinder. Only a pair of Lunarchs have survived, though it is believed they reaped the heaviest toll among the Division's supersoldiers. None of the Puppen have perished, although all but Günther will need to be sent back to Castle Schwartzstein so that Professor Gehrman can rebuild their orichalcum bodies, and should be kept from the sight of non-members of Division Y to prevent panic.
(Side note : given the amount of punishment some instances of Projekt P took, the long-standing theory that they can only be truly destroyed through raw magical power has gained new evidence. See test report P-19 for additional details on this hypothesis.)
As the M-912 rifles were so effective against the Progeny, the troopers trained in their usage were deployed in the sections of the defensive lines the most at risk, and this shows in their own casualties. Of the six hundred Imperial soldiers equipped with M-912s, less than two hundred survived the battle. Preliminary interviews of their comrades indicate that the Progeny focused on them, having identified them as the most dangerous of the enemy they faced.
(Side note : the surviving troopers reported a strange phenomenon in their weapons in the instants prior to Projekt M's firing, as the M-912s started vibrating and humming, sometimes violently enough to throw off their aim. We're also presently investigating reports that several weapons might have outright detonated at the same time, erupting in great balls of energy which obliterated everything around, be it human or Progeny.)
[…]
In summary, Operation Gottesmörder was the single most costly battle ever fought by Division Y. Yet we still fell short of the worst estimations of the Director, and the catastrophic scenario of Being K's influence spreading to the entire continental landmass was prevented. The abilities revealed by Being K during the battle clearly demonstrated that the extreme measures which were taken in the lead-up to the Operation were justified."
Extract from an internal Division Y report (for Colonel Lergen's eyes only), August 5th, 1926.
Colonel Lergen : "Our first priority must be to ensure the fallout of this whole affair is contained. Then, our countries will have to act to prevent a humanitarian crisis in all of Russy. The Federation collapsing into a series of independent territories run by warlords isn't what the Reich wants, but unfortunately, that might be inevitable at this point."
General Hutton : "Really ? I would've thought the Empire would be happy to gobble up as much of the Western regions as you could. Even with the history between your countries, given the situation, you might get away with it – and it's not like many other countries would be willing to line up to stop you, after … all of this."
Commander Zhenkov : "I don't agree, General. Even with them taking the main role in saving the Motherland from that monster, an Imperial occupation would be … nasty."
Colonel Lergen : "In ordinary times, I won't deny that there would be those in Berun tempted by such a proposition. But with Moskva in its current condition, chaos in Russy will only endanger us all. And if the Russy believe the Empire is using their present circumstances to invade, chaos is exactly what we will have. I don't know about you, but I can all too easily imagine some would-be Tzar foolishly believing that he can find the key to ascendancy in the ruins of the capital and starting this whole mess all over again."
Commander Zhenkov : "I want to say you're wrong, but I can't. The problem – well, one of them, at any rate – is that as far as I can tell, there isn't a Federation anymore. Moskva was where the Party concentrated all its power, and all of it is gone now. I have enough men left to hold onto Josefgrad and the surrounding areas, but that's it. Like you said, the Federation's crumbling might be inevitable."
Colonel Lergen : "My orders were to deal with Being K and prevent any threat to the Fatherland coming from the Federation. As such, the Imperial forces under my command can be assigned to help stabilize the region. I expect I'll soon receive orders to that effect, with instructions to help set up local governments and smaller states which will eventually be able to manage themselves without Imperial oversight."
General Hutton : "Are you going to be the one in charge if that happens ? Don't get me wrong, you're clearly competent, Colonel Lergen, but managing something like that seems like a lot for a Colonel."
Colonel Lergen : "God, I hope not. I was given overall command of the Imperial forces for this operation because of my familiarity with Division Y and Mythos warfare, but stabilizing the region is way above my pay grade. I think Berun will send someone higher-ranking than me to take over, once the immediate clean-up has been handled."
Commander Zhenkov : "And you're sure whoever replaces you won't try to boost their prestige in the Reich by pushing your borders eastwards ?"
Colonel Lergen : "As I said, we don't intend to annex Russy. For one thing, it's too bloody huge for us to do so even if we sent every single soldier in the Army. For another, expansion through conquest has never been the goal of the Reich since the Great War started : we only ever sought to protect our own land and people."
Commander Zhenkov : "Not exactly what I heard, but then what I heard was the Party's version of reality, and we all know what that was worth. I will trust you on this, Colonel – not that I really have much of a choice. You're still at war with the Albish, aren't you ?"
Colonel Lergen : "I expect that is no longer the case, in practice if not officially. Their aerial mages are still assisting us with the clean-up, and once they go back to their homeland, I don't think they'll be eager to fight against the Reich now that they've seen what we're capable of with their own eyes. However, the details will be handled by the Imperial diplomatic corps, not the Imperial Army. Despite the Reich's reputation, I assure you that the two are different and independently run groups within the Empire."
Commander Zhenkov : "Of course, of course. I would never imply anything otherwise, Colonel."
Colonel Lergen : "… I hope so."
Extract from the minutes of the meeting between Colonel Lergen (Imperial Army), General Hutton (Unified States Army), and Commander Zhenkov (Federation Army), along with their assorted translators and aides, August 5th, 1926.
"Brothers and sisters, we have all seen the truth.
As the heavens shook and the earth was sundered, as stars fell and black blood was spilled in foul torrents, we all beheld horrors beyond what any sane man could conceive of. Along with these eldritch sights, we all saw our comrades die around us, slain by monsters from the darkest nightmares, given form and unleashed upon this world by the folly of tyrants.
Amidst these visions of horror, one bleak, undeniable truth emerged. We know that Mankind isn't the dominant species in the cosmos; that, if we are the Children of God, then He is not the only force moving amidst the celestial spheres.
In the light of these bitter revelations, war among men is a luxury we can no longer afford. It was always an awful, horrid thing, fuelled by petty greed, ambition and hate, yet now, all the disputes of Mankind have been shown to be utterly insignificant.
Whatever comes next, we must never forget these lessons. We, who fought side by side to slay a false god and its minions, must ever remember that, no matter what else, we are all brothers first and foremost. The divides of nation, creed, race and ideology mean nothing compared to the sacred bond which ties us all together.
The Lady of Stars is a symbol of that guiding principle; a reminder and a promise that, under the light of the stars, we shall find our destiny."
Confiscated pamphlet found circulating among the Allied Forces camped near the Moskva Blast Site, August 7th, 1926. The pamphlet's contents were written three times : in Imperial, then in Albish, and finally in Russy.
"Mary,
The battle is over, and we won. I still find it hard to believe, even now. With all that I've seen, all that I know, it seems impossible that we could possibly have triumphed – and yet we did.
They have me helping clean the battlefield now; it's why I haven't been able to write to you until now. It's a mess – a scene straight out of Hell, except only sinners suffer in Hell, and far too many innocents died here. There were so many beasts, Mary, and every one of them was a person before they were turned into monsters.
I miss you terribly, even as I'm glad that you're very far from this awful place. I don't know when I'll be sent back home, but I'll make sure to tell you as soon as I know.
With all my love,
Warren."
Letter from Warren Grantz to Mary Sue, August 8th, 1926.
August 10th, 1926 – Londinium
In the streets of Albion's capital, the mood was one of confused cheer. After all the horror stories which had come from Russy, the public was glad that the source of the evil which had destroyed Moskva was gone. Yet at the same time, there were grumblings, as those who opposed the war against the Empire grew in numbers, pointing to the events of Russy as yet another sign that fighting the Reich was both foolish and irresponsible.
In a richly appointed town-house, a newspaper was spread on the table between the members of the Round Table. The headline read 'Alliance of Nations Stops Out-Of-Control Russy Magical Horrors'. The article, which filled half of the Londinium Times' special edition, described the battle of the Allied Forces against the Progeny in sobering detail, as told by the war reporter who had somehow made his way there and survived to tell the tale.
The rest of the newspaper was filled with interviews of various people and rampant speculation, some of which flirted with the technical definition of treason against the Crown. Not even the efforts of the Albish government's propaganda arm had been able to suppress them this time – or, perhaps, they had been ordered not to.
The Prime Minister himself stood in the chamber, puffing on a cigar as he glared at the assembled worthies. Between his steadily progressing baldness and generous waistline, he was not a physically impressive man, yet none of the other worthies assembled dared to meet his gaze as it swept the room.
"Yesterday," Churbull began, "I was summoned by His Majesty to the Royal Palace to give account of my recent actions. There, I learned that the King has recently received a missive from his Imperial cousin informing him of the, shall we say, confidential details of what happened in Russy, and how it happened. He was displeased that one of our own spies was somehow involved in the Federation getting its hands on the magical research which led to the Solstice Event."
Nobody said anything. That the Prime Minister was here at all was a sign of how badly things were going for the ancient secret society : while his office had been aware of the Round Table's existence for a long time, a certain distance had always been maintained, in the interests of plausible deniability if nothing else.
"Our war with the Empire is over," declared Churbull. "Even if we could somehow keep fighting without being dragged into the streets and strung up by the mob, backstabbing the Empire after they led the charge in stopping the monster that destroyed Moskva and a bunch of the Federation would turn us into a pariah state. The Reich would be seen as entirely justified in using whatever Wunderwaffen they need to destroy our military and land troops on the mainland – and, as has been most definitely established, we couldn't do anything to stop them."
"I expect that I will present my resignation to the King as part of the peace terms," continued the Prime Minister, looking wholly unconcerned by the fact he'd just announced the death of his political career. "But that's not why I'm here. I came here to make sure that each and every one of you morons understood the situation Albion is in because of your – no. Because of our decisions."
"We are aware of our mistakes, Prime Minister," said Kay, keeping his eyes low. "And while it is no excuse, I would still like to point out how … how utterly unpredictable the entire situation has been since Division Y was revealed. We couldn't have predicted how things would evolve."
"No, you couldn't. But you thought you could, and because of that, the Allied Kingdom's international standing and influence are going to be crippled for years, to say nothing of our economy. The rise of a continental hegemon, which we've sought to prevent for literal centuries, is now all but certain, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Again, nobody said anything. It was all true, after all.
"The Royal Wizard's freedom will be part of the peace terms, though I'm sure it will cost us to secure it. Once Merlin is back to Albion, he will retire from his position, and you will all make sure he doesn't do anything half as stupid as that stunt in Remula. I suspect that will require a full-time commitment from all of you," said the Prime Minister with a toothy smile, "so you'll all need to submit your own resignations from whatever official positions you currently hold in order to focus on that."
Nobody objected. They were all aware of how leniently they were being treated, thanks to their influence and wealth – which, even now, remained considerable. More importantly, the Allied Kingdom couldn't afford the scandal of a public trial exposing the inner workings of the Albish government. So, instead, they would quietly be swept aside, Churbull's government would bear the blame for the nation's mistakes in the last few years, and eventually, the country would be able to rise again.
For all their sins, for all their arrogance and entitlement, the members of the Round Table were still patriots – although, a dark voice whispered to each of them, the countless soldiers who had laid down their lives in Russy and the other battlefields of the Great War wouldn't regard their giving up their political careers and retiring in comfort and luxury as any sort of real sacrifice.
"Prime Minister ?" asked Agravain, speaking aloud for the first time since the meeting had started. "There is another matter to discuss."
Churbull glared at the spymaster for a few seconds, then nodded shortly. Agravain took out a small silver urn from under his jacket and carefully placed it on the table between them. Kay identified it immediately as a funerary urn, the kind in which were placed the ashes of those who, for reasons of personal preference or necessity, were incinerated upon their demise. This one looked to be of Imperial make, and a name was engraved on its surface in elegant cursive :
Christopher Ward
April 13th, 1892 – January 15th, 1926
From Russy With Love
"This was delivered to the Secret Services' headquarters yesterday by the Post Office," explained the spymaster in a deeply unhappy tone of voice. "As far as we could tell, the courier had no idea where he was delivering it too, but it had my name on the package."
"And it is human ash ?" asked Mordred, looking a little queasy.
"Again, as far as we could tell using magic. The chemical composition is right, and there's enough of it to account for a grown adult like Agent 404 was."
"I see. Nice of the Imps to send the poor bastard's home. You'll return the remains to the chap's family, I hope ?" asked Churbull.
"Agent 404 didn't have any family left, Prime Minister," replied Agravain. "Most of our field operatives are the same; it takes a very special kind of man to do the kind of work they are required to do, and personal attachments make that … more complicated."
"Then you'll treat these remains with all the dignity they deserve," ordered the Prime Minister with a scowl. "Even if he ended up coughing up all your secrets to the Imps, it was your fuck-up that led him there in the first place."
"Of course," replied Agravain, sounding offended that the matter was ever in doubt. "But the point remains that Agent 404 was our senior operative in the Empire. He knew most of our other operations and networks there. If Division Y was able to get his name and the address of our headquarters from him, then it stands to reason they also extracted everything closer to home."
"Pull out everyone," ordered Churbull.
"Everyone ?!" Agravain gasped. "Sir, we have operatives who've been living in deep cover for years, decades even ! They are citizens of the Empire in every way that matters ! Extracting them, especially at a time like this …"
"Will still cause less trouble than if the Empire's own spooks are the ones who send them back to us in more nice little boxes like this one !" roared Churbull, pointing a pudgy finger at the silver urn on the table. "So, that'll be the last thing you do before passing on the bucket to your successor, the poor bastard. Get every operative we've out of the Empire, and give every one of them who needs it support to build a new life elsewhere. I don't care what it costs – no, actually, forget that. I do care what it costs, so you three will pay for it with your own personal funds. It's the least you can do to help clean up this mess of a war !"
Mordred, Kay and Agravain looked at each other, then nodded, accepting the Prime Minister's decision. Once, the Round Table had known the decision of His Royal Majesty's chief of government before the man himself, but that time was over now. The Round Table as a group might survive the Great War, but it would do so in a severely diminished form, no longer pulling the strings of the Kingdom from the shadows.
August 11th, 1926 – Imperial Capital Berun – Central Headquarters of the Imperial Army
"So, the Albish are surrendering, then ?" asked General Rudersdorf as he lifted his gaze from the communiqué he'd been reading.
"I wouldn't put it in those exact words," replied his old friend General Zettour in an amused tone. The two old officers were sitting together in an office, going through reports. Outside the window, the sun had long since set. Zettour had sent everyone else home for the day, but the two had stayed behind to finish dealing with the paperwork and reports. "And neither would they. Certainly you couldn't find that particular term anywhere in their letter."
"True," admitted Rudersdorf. "I must admit I'm impressed by the speechcraft of whoever wrote this. They manage to make it sound like an apology for dragging the war on after the Francois Republic surrendered and unleashing a horde of flesh-eating monsters who would have devoured Kemet's capital if not for us, without actually admitting to any guilt whatsoever."
He shook his head. "Still, for all their shamelessness, they know everyone knows what they did, and they'll have to pay the price for it. What do you think we can get out of this ?"
"The Allied Kingdom is going to lose their hold over Kemet, that's for certain," mused Zettour, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The king has been discreetly reaching out to the Reich for aid in securing his country's full independence since this whole near-disaster with the Nameless City's unearthing, and getting the Suan Canal out of Albion's hands will be a great blow to their economical strength on the global stage."
"Couldn't have happened to a better global empire," said Rudersdorf with a grin.
"Yes, quite so," replied Zettour, an identical grin on his face. The Allied Kingdom had been a thorn in the side of the Empire for a long time. Now, at long last, they had been cast down from their position as Europa's puppetmasters.
"Of course, that's not the most important thing going on diplomatically. There is talk of organizing a conference between the countries with Mythos weapons – so, us, Albion, the Unified States, and whatever territory Zhenkov manages to hold in Russy. Not sure where or when, but it will have to be soon. The threat of Mythos proliferation needs to be addressed, or else the next war might be the last one in the history of our species. Right now, there's a lot of pressure to make sure nothing like the Solstice Event ever happens again, but in her papers, Major Degurechaff made it clear she believed any taboo will only last for a couple of generations before it starts to lose its potency – especially when the potential benefits are so great. An occult arms' race would benefit no one."
"That's easy for us to say, though," pointed out Rudersdorf. "We are the ones with the strongest Mythos arsenal, if you don't count what the Americans must surely still be building back home. Telling everyone else they can't play with the same toys as us isn't likely to go down well."
"The threat of violent punishment will almost certainly be necessary, yes," agreed Zettour. "But given the alternative is the very real risk of our species' annihilation – and, again according to Degurechaff's papers, that's one of the best possible outcomes – I think we'll just have to resolve ourselves to it."
For a moment, the two Generals sat back, smoking and thinking about a future that was all but guaranteed to be unlike anything either of them would've imagined when the Legadonian Entente had first crossed the borders of the Reich. Eventually, Rudersdorf spoke up :
"So … it's over, then. The greatest war of our country's history, fought with weapons never dreamt of before and against enemies straight out of the blackest hells … and it is over."
"I wouldn't say so. There's still the clean-up in Russy, which is going to take years to deal with properly, to say nothing of the troubling rumors we're hearing from the Far East and Brazil."
Rudersdorf waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, sure, but that's the aftermath, the usual messy business of patching things up once the guns stop shooting. The most important part, of course, unless you want the whole mess to start over again in a couple decades. But the war itself is over, unless someone does something catastrophically stupid. With any luck, we will both be able to finally retire in a year or two and hand over the reins to Lergen – he's certainly shown he deserves it."
"Please," said Zettour with a pained smile. "Don't tempt fate like that. But yes, the good Colonel has more than earned a few promotions, even if I don't think he'll thank us for them."
"Too bad for him. He will have to deal with it. There's also a bunch of medals waiting for him once he gets back from the Federation."
August 16th, 1926 – Castle Schwartzstein
It had been a long week.
By the time I woke up from my exhausted coma after fighting Being K, I had been brought back to Castle Schwartzstein and Operation Gottesmörder was over, save for the clean-up – which, it was believed, would take weeks if not months, even with the help of magic to speed things up.
My memories of my battle against the Class Nine entity were fuzzy. A human brain couldn't process what I had experienced under the effects of the Kosmosblut, and now, my brain was completely human again.
When Kory had seen me, she had burst into tears at the sight of my entirely human self. The Nazzadi children hadn't reacted much better, keeping from crying out only because of their lingering trauma about making noise.
I hadn't understood why until I'd remembered those stories I'd read in my previous life about children being traumatized by something as simple as their father shaving their beard. By rescuing them from the Congregation of Michael and Nazza-Duhni respectively, I had become a pillar of support for these children, and now that pillar was being shaken.
I spent the few days following my return reassuring them that I was still myself, and that they were still safe and protected. I didn't tell them that, while I still had access to my old, entirely human magic capabilities, Iosefka had utterly forbidden me from ever using the Kosmosblut again. Given the warning words of the Grandmother before she'd left, I fully intended to follow the advice of the good Doctor.
I had written a report on my experience under the effect of the serum, and described the Grandmother's appearance and intervention in a separate report. Form a letter I'd received by Colonel Lergen, it seemed that whoever she was, she was the one who had helped the Federation Army create the supersoldiers they'd deployed in the battle against the Progeny by somehow mastering the power of Being K's flesh that they had ingested.
She had also disappeared in the wake of Operation Gottesmörder, though the methods she'd taught the Federation Army's doctors hadn't lost their effectiveness.
The question of why she had intervened to save my life was still up in the air. Given her interactions with Zhenkov, it seemed she had some fondness for Russy itself : perhaps helping save the country by defeating Being K had been enough for her to feel indebted to me.
Before collapsing from her own exhaustion, Iosefka had ordered me to remain at rest for at least as long as herself, however long that ended up being. The good doctor had pushed herself far beyond her limits in order to save as many wounded soldiers as possible, and when the battle had ended, she'd dragged herself to my side to provide what assistance she could. Frankly, I was in awe of her – and, perhaps, more than a little scared of her wrath were I to disobey her instructions.
Which was how I had ended up in my current situation : laying down in bed, with Kory and a trio of Nazzadi children snuggled against me, trying to read the paperwork which absolutely couldn't be delegated with Visha at my side taking dictation – I spoke quietly enough not to disturb the children, who seemed to be reassured by my voice in any case.
My adjutant's use of the Endlose Nacht for a third time at Moskva had come with its own consequences, and unlike me, she hadn't had the help of a mysterious elder witch to wipe them away with a wave of her wrinkled hand. Like the other Untoten who had used the serum thrice, her eyes were now two spheres of darkness, kept hidden behind darkened glasses to avoid frightening people – except hers were marked by a pattern of silver dots like stars on a night sky, which glowed slightly, the effect reminiscent of what my body had looked like in my transformed state.
Also unlike her peers, Visha was no longer torpid during the day, though she was still vulnerable to sunlight (a test she had insisted on making despite my reluctance, and which had ended with her needing to drink several additional blood doses in order to recover from). This had made her even more valuable as a personal assistant, especially since, in my current state, I also needed a bodyguard at my side. A simple spell (simple by the standards of Division Y, at least) was enough to neutralize the heat-draining effects of Visha's presence, which could have made the children sick.
The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and soon, I would have to go to sleep myself, but for now, I was enjoying the relaxing routine of processing paperwork, surrounded by people I trusted.
There was a soft knock on the door. I glanced at Visha, who didn't seem worried as she stood up – with her enhanced senses, she'd have heard the approaching footsteps long before the knock, and identified whoever they belonged to. Had it been someone unauthorized or unknown, she'd have moved to neutralize them long before they could've reached the door.
My adjutant opened the door, and Elya stepped through. She smiled at Visha, then at the children.
"Director," said the former Imperial spy softly. "There's been a … letter for you."
She handed me the letter she'd been carrying. Gently pulling an arm free from behind Vreta's head, I picked it up and looked at it, noticing the symbol impressed on the wax seal keeping it closed. It was a symbol familiar to every single citizen of the Reich : the personal heraldry of the Emperor himself.
I opened it, and read it carefully, my eyebrows rising higher and higher the further I went. I had more or less known something like this was inevitable from the moment I'd watched the Dacian Army be completely and utterly broken, but there was still a part of me, from both my current and former lives, which couldn't help but feel giddy at the news.
After all, what boy or girl hadn't dreamed of being made into a knight ?
"Major Degurechaff,
You are hereby called to meet His Imperial Majesty at the Imperial Palace two weeks from now, on the third of September of this year, at ten in the morning.
His Imperial Majesty wishes to thank you personally for your great service to the Fatherland, in a ceremony in which you shall be elevated to the nobility, thereby gaining the right to use the 'von' preposition in your name, a right which shall be passed on to your descendants in perpetuity.
Owing to the magnitude of your accomplishments, the ceremony shall take place with the entire Imperial Family in attendance; however, because of the classified nature of said accomplishments, no outsiders shall be allowed on the premises, and the reason for your knighting shall remain confidential even when it is later made public.
His Imperial Majesty has expressed the desire to speak with you in private following the ceremony, to discuss matters of great import to the future of the Empire.
In addition, since the ceremony will take place within the personal estate of the Imperial Family, you will not be allowed to bring an escort with you inside the Palace proper. Your attendants will remain at the servants' house outside, where they will be taken care of to the best of the Imperial household's ability."
Letter addressed to Major Tanya Degurechaff, received at Castle Schwartzstein on August 16th, 1926.
AN : The pieces are moving into place. We are approaching the endgame now, what was supposed to be Chapter 6 in the original draft of this story, back before the Muse made it grow out of control.
It has been a long journey, and we still have quite a way to go, but the end is in sight. I'm going to try to finish this story by Halloween, which would be appropriate. At the very latest, it should be complete by the end of the year.
As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts about it.
Zahariel out.