PEACE DECLARED, GREAT WAR FINALLY ENDS !
After several months of a mostly cold war, the hostilities between the Allied Kingdom and our glorious Reich are at an end. Yesterday, the Ministry of Foreign Relations announced that, following negotiations between the Empire and Albion that began immediately after our nations' cooperation against the threat in Moskva, a peace treaty has been approved and signed by our respective heads of state.
The signing of the treaty took place in Parisee, with the proceedings overseen by the Francois President. Prime Minister Churbull represented the Allied Kingdom. Per the terms of the treaty, the Allied Kingdom recognizes its fault in attacking the Imperial Army on the last day of hostilities on the Rhine Front.
As was done when the Francois Republic surrendered to the Empire after the treachery of De Lugo was revealed, the Reich's diplomatic corps have limited their demands for reparations in order to prevent the creation of grudges. But while the Empire's demands for monies were restrained, our diplomats made sure that the Allied Kingdom would no longer be able to dictate policy across the globe through its colonial dominion. The Kingdom of Kemet, among others, shall henceforth be free to forge its own destiny, free of the colonial overlord whose folly so nearly cost it so dear not so long ago.
A new era has dawned upon the world, and the Reich will take its rightful place as its leader …
Excerpt from the front-page of the Berun Post, August 17th, 1926.
"Mister President,
We took a beating, but we're still alive. Even now, with all I've seen, I find that hard to believe.
I know us getting involved in a land war in Russy wasn't what you had in mind when you sent us and the eggheads across the ocean, but while I can't say I would have gone if I'd known what awaited us, I also can't say it wasn't absolutely necessary. No matter what anyone else says, know that you did the right thing when you gave us the order to join the Imperials eastwards.
A more detailed report of Operation Gottesmörder is attached to this letter, but there are some details that I'm afraid I couldn't put into it for reason of global security – I'll only be able to share them with you in person, though not happy to revisit those memories. In any case, I don't think words can ever properly describe what we faced and what we witnessed. 'Biblical' and 'apocalyptic' are the closest adjectives I can think of that fit, and even they feel like they fall short of the truth.
God's own truth, though, is that every single one of the men who died in the fight of Moskva is a goddamn hero. I've sent you a list of the deceased, with the medals I think each of them – and their surviving comrades – deserve. I understand that number is quite large, but once you've read the report, I'm sure you'll agree with me.
Teslus' machines worked mighty fine – against any normal enemy, it would have been a massacre. Unfortunately, 'normal' is becoming rarer and rarer these days, but you can be reassured that the money you poured into Research Group 51 was well-spent.
I understand that the Great War is over now the Albish have finally acknowledged the writing on the wall everyone else saw months ago and thrown in the towel. In the absence of contradictory orders and given the large decisionary powers you invested in me in your last command, I have made the decision to keep our forces in Russy. There, we will assist with the clean-up of the Progeny as well as prevent the situation from getting more volatile : according to Commander Zhenkov, our presence should help avoid accusations of annexation being thrown at the Empire.
The situation in Russy isn't good, as I'm sure you know. If you could spare some humanitarian aid for the locals, I would be grateful : keeping people from starving will definitely make things easier.
If you have other orders for the forces of the Research Group and the Army under my command, I am, of course, at your service.
With all respect,
General Hutton.
PS : I hope with all of my heart it never comes to it, but if you ever need someone to fight the Imperials for some God-forsaken reason, then you will need to look elsewhere, because I'd rather face a firing squad than these lunatics. They were already scary enough when we were on the same side."
Letter from General Hutton to the President of the Unified States, sent across the Atlantic Ocean and received on August 17th, 1926.
August 17th, 1926 – Castle Schwartzstein
Günther stood before his maker, staying perfectly immobile as Gehrman worked to repair the extensive damage his orichalcum shell had suffered in battle against the Progeny. Evelyn, his elder sister, stood watch near their maker, ever-ready to act should he need it.
Despite his age, Gehrman's fingers were quick and sure as he worked. Working with orichalcum was an extremely complicated process, and the ageing professor was Division Y's foremost expert in the matter – a veritable artist, where his students were still very much craftsmen : capable enough of doing the work Division Y needed them to do, but nowhere near the master's level.
The arcane metal flowed under the combined touch of Gehrman's magic and the high-powered torch he was holding, filling the cracks and concealing the black mass that was the Puppe's black, alien core from view. On the way from Russy, he'd needed to cover up the openings with clothes borrowed from the human members of Division Y, lest the sight of his internal self drive people to panic.
Even as he remained immobile to a point beyond any normal human's ability, Günther let his gaze sweep across Gehrman's workshop. It was cluttered with the pieces of several projects, but not to the point of untidiness : no doubt his sister was to thank for that. Partially assembled prostheses hung from the ceiling, and an entire wall was covered in sketches and occult diagrams – nothing too dangerous, of course, or the Director wouldn't have allowed them to be out in the open.
"And … there, good as new," said Gehrman, putting his tools down and rolling his wheelchair back from Günther. "Try to move around, see if there's any stiffness or discomfort."
Günther dutifully obeyed, going through a series of motions he and his siblings had been taught while they were getting used to their envelopes. He couldn't detect anything wrong, and reported as such.
"Good, good," smiled Gehrman.
"Thank you, Gehrman," he replied.
"You're welcome. I heard about what you did in Russy, boy. That was some fine work you did. I'm proud of you, Günther. You really haven't lost your talent for fighting, heh ?"
"I only did my best," said Günther, awkwardly playing along with his maker's delusion without quite lying to him.
"Hah !" Gehrman's bark of laughter was dry, but still true, until it was interrupted by a fit of coughing that sent the old man reeling.
In the blink of a human eye, Evelyn was by his side, bringing a cup of warm, honey-scented liquid to his lips. The professor drank slowly, and his coughing subsided.
"You have worked hard, Gehrman," gently said Günther's sister. "You need to rest."
"Rest ? … Yes. Yes, you're right, Evelyn. You're always right. Be careful in the future, alright, Günther ? I won't always be here to fix you up after you get yourself hurt, you know."
"I will be," said Günther as Evelyn pushed Gehrman's wheelchair toward his bed, trying to make sense of the strange feelings his maker's words were causing him to experience. "I promise."
The Puppe didn't know whether Gehrman really thought of him and the other Puppen as his dead family and comrades, or if he'd simply named them after the ones he had lost and was pretending as a way of mourning and honoring them. From what he'd been told, even the Director herself didn't know for sure, and they couldn't ask Gehrman, because merely asking him might hurt him if he really thought the Puppen were his lost friends and family reborn and had that illusion challenged.
Dementia was a complicated subject that was ill-understood even by professional doctors, and it had barely been a month since Günther's awakening. When he'd asked her, the Director had explained things by comparing Gehrman's possible reaction to what had happened to Günther in that Russy village, when his mind had come together – except in reverse.
The very notion horrified the Puppe. He remembered the state of hollow consciousness that had been his before awakening, and while he understood it was no different from what happened to organic sentients as they grew up, the idea that it could be reversed was … wrong. Just, wrong, in a way completely different that the Progeny and, before them, the Eikons had been wrong. But he understood too that it was sometimes inevitable, the result of entropy taking its toll on human minds, and that there was nothing that could be done – at least not now.
For the Director had – perhaps accidentally, perhaps not – let it slip that, as Mankind's medical and magical knowledge advanced, they might one day become able to fight even such an insidious scourge. But for now, there was nothing to be done except accommodate Gehrman as best they could, and so Günther was very careful and watched his words, because he didn't want to hurt his maker.
Later, once Gehrman was asleep, Günther approached Evelyn.
"Tell me, sister," he asked, softly so as not to disturb their maker's rest. "What was your own awakening like ?"
She stood immobile for a moment. A human might have thought she was ignoring him, but Günther could read his kin in a way no non-Puppe could have, and he could tell Evelyn was merely thinking about how to answer him.
"He was crying," she said at last, her voice filled with an emotion Günther still didn't know how to name yet. "He was clinging to me and crying, calling my name and begging my forgiveness."
Evelyn. The name of Gehrman's human sister, who had died in the same accident that had killed their mother, while Gehrman wasn't here, taken away to war and wounded in the same battle that had killed the rest of his squad. Günther, who had stood in the ruins of a village emptied by the Progeny, thought he might just understand a fragment of what that must have felt like for his maker.
"I didn't say anything, because I didn't know how to talk, just like you didn't, just like the rest of our siblings still do not," Evelyn continued. "I didn't understand what he wanted or how I could help him – all I knew was that he was in pain. And so, in order to be able to help him, I had to … change. Grow."
"Awaken," finished Günther.
"Exactly." She raised her orichalcum-white hands before her face, looking at them as she flexed her fingers, so delicate and finely-crafted, yet with enough strength behind them to crush metal. They were trembling now as she remembered, and Günther realized he might have accidentally caused his sister harm in trying to understand her better.
"I don't think I am her," she confessed, her voice so low now Günther needed to strain his senses to perceive the vibrations in the air carrying her words. "I don't think any of us are the people he named us after, not really. But I love him all the same, because he made me, made you, and because he loves us, and that love isn't a lie."
There was nothing Günther could say to that, and so he said nothing. He merely stayed with his sister, keeping her silent company throughout the night.
"Mister President,
First, please forgive me if I start rambling or fail to make much sense. I am dictating this letter while under the effect of quite a formidable amount of painkillers, and have only recently awakened from a coma caused by being close to an Imperial Wunderwaffe at the moment of activation.
No doubt the very competent people you have assigned to keep an eye on me and keep me focused as I work have already sent you a detailed report on the performance of Research Group Fifty-One's creations, so I won't waste my breath describing what I saw to you, especially since I didn't see anything because I was too busy working alongside our colleagues from Division Y. But I do have something I wish to tell you, something of utmost importance.
I have been told that a great conference is being planned, to discuss what is to be done about Elder Magic and arcane superweapons in general. It is my strong belief that the Unified States should attend this conference, and support whatever treaty ends up being written there. Preventing a repeat of what happened in Moskva is of vital importance to the ongoing survival of the human race : this, I think isn't questioned by anyone with even the slightest inkling of the cause of the Solstice Event.
But there is more. When we first met, I told you it was my belief that a balance of power between nations was necessary : that, without someone to balance their power, the Empire would continue waging war forever. I still hold to that belief, but what I've seen – the horrors that were unleashed in Moskva – has convinced me that there is much less leeway than I previously thought. We cannot afford a repeat of the Great War with every belligerent armed with superweapons, for regardless of the victor in such an apocalyptic conflict, Mankind itself shall lose for certain.
It is also my belief that this conference will be the perfect time to reveal the T-Engine to the rest of the world. As the industrialization of the world continues to advance, a clean, infinite source of energy such as this can advert the effects of widespread fossil fuel use, which my fellow scientists discovered decades ago could lead to a global warming which would upset the delicate balance of our world's climate, with what could be disastrous consequences of an entirely different kind to the ones Russy recently experienced.
And, should environmental concerns not be enough to move you to action, consider that the T-Engines will also ensure the energy independence of every country with them – thus preventing them from coming under undue influence by foreign powers. I understand that, while the USA enjoys the advantage of their own internal sources of oil, our industry's demand already vastly outpaces domestic production.
You might think I'm telling you this as an attempt to get my name immortalized as the inventor of the device which solved Mankind's energy problems forever. And, truth be told, you might be correct : I don't think I'm in the proper state of mind to examine my own motivations at the moment. But then again, I did pull the lever that fired the biggest gun in the history of our species at a false god while both god and gun were trying to drive me crazy, so I think my immortality is already ensured.
Regards,
Nicol Teslus."
Letter from Nicol Teslus to the President of the Unified States, sent across the Atlantic Ocean and received on August 18th, 1926.
"Since the Solstice Event, murder cases have skyrocketed, each one more violent and sordid than the last. In addition, hundreds of people have just outright vanished, leaving the city and their lives behind without warning or a word to their friends and families.
This isn't limited to the capital. We've gotten reports from the rest of the country that the same is happening everywhere – and even our neighbours seem affected, though getting a clear answer from them is a pain.
We thought that it would stop with the battle of Moskva, since the Imperials claim to have neutralized the source of the calamity which destroyed the city. But it hasn't. Looking at the numbers, there was a significant decrease right after, but the curb is still going up.
In fact, according to our analysts, the numbers indicate that there were two different reasons for this plague of violence. One of them was indeed linked to Moskva and has now been taken out of the equation, but the other one, the one that's still in play, wasn't, and its effects are still growing.
All units are ordered to be very careful while on patrol, and to stay on the lookout for any strange happenings. I know this isn't exactly helpful advice, but that's the best we've got right now.
Also, anyone I see carrying one of these 'lucky charms' that conmen have started selling will get the worst duty I can think of. I know what they're doing isn't illegal, but you all damn well know they're still preying on the fears of the population, and they don't need the free advertising of having the city's proud defenders endorse their graft."
Extract from a Brazilian police report, August 19th, 1926.
August 20th, 1926 – Imperial Capital Berun – Central Headquarters of the Imperial Army
General Eric von Lergen – the new rank still felt wrong, despite the brand new uniform with the appropriate markings he'd been handed alongside a handful of medals right after his return to the capital – sat across Generals Zettour and Rudersdorf, doing his best to conceal his nervousness.
Although the three men meeting alone in the room were technically of the same rank, Lergen hadn't been part of the Imperial Army for so long without learning that there were layers of authority and influence even within the same official levels of the great organization. Lergen had only been a General for a few days, while his two elders had become veritable institutions unto themselves in the Imperial Army. Even the glory that had attached itself to him due to his reluctant involvement with Division Y couldn't make up for the difference in experience and accumulated influence they possessed.
But, truth be told, all of that was only the reason for half his nervousness. The rest came from the knowledge that these two men had been Degurechaff's patrons in the Army nearly since the beginning; that they had seen the terrifying child she had once been and helped shape her into the saner, but no less terrifying Director she had become.
(Lergen was aware that Degurechaff couldn't use the Kosmosblut to turn into a flying goddess of stars and destruction anymore, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that made her harmless.)
"The Major has been summoned by the Kaiser himself," began Zettour once they had gone through the pleasantries. He didn't specify which Major he was talking about – there was only one it could be. "He intends to reward her for her many services to the Empire, which will include ennobling her and her line."
"That's … the least she deserves, really," said Lergen hesitantly. "No existing line of nobility can claim to have contributed as much to the Reich as she has since joining the Army."
Lergen very carefully did not think about Degurechaff having children. The thought of her as an adult was already plenty disturbing on its own – the idea of her with kids of her own blood wasn't something he felt ready to contemplate at the moment.
"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," guffawed Rudersdorf. "God, if we still operated by rule of might alone, she would have grounds to replace the Kaiser."
"Please don't joke about that, General," Lergen begged, feeling a new ulcer form in his stomach at the mental image the older man's words were conjuring.
"Yes, that might be construed as treason, after all," said Zettour, sending a quick glare at his peer. "Anyway, as a member of the Imperial nobility, her words will have more sway at the upcoming international conference on how to handle the Mythos going forward. Not that her words wouldn't have been taken seriously anyway, but, well, you know how she looks, especially now. Anything to make those who don't know her personally take her seriously will be a welcome addition."
"Has the location of the conference been agreed upon ?" asked Lergen.
"Yes, just this morning," replied Zettour. "Several possibilities were brought up, but ultimately, it was decided to hold it in Berun itself."
That made sense. The Empire had won the Great War, after all, and even if the diplomats had been generous with the vanquished there was still a certain amount of victor's privilege to be expected.
And, of course, Lergen wasn't surprised Zettour knew about this before it was publicly announced. Influence and politics aside, the Imperial Army would definitely be called upon to help ensure the security of the attendees.
"Zhenkov will be here, or he'll send a representative if he can't make it due to the situation in Russy. The Albish will also have someone, since they still have mages trained in using the Ancient Kemetian wards – probably whoever is selected to succeed Churbull will be the one they send."
Ah, right. The newspapers had announced the Albish Prime Minister's resignation that morning, which the monarch of the Allied Kingdom had 'graciously accepted'. Nobody was fooled, of course, but in typical Albish fashion, nobody would speak about the truth of the matter – that Churbull had resigned in disgrace and would probably never hold an official position again – aloud, either.
"The American President is planning to attend as well," continued Zettour. "We've received confirmation from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that he'll take a military ship to make sure to get there in time."
"That will be … a lot of very important people in one place," swallowed Lergen, trying to ignore the way his palms had suddenly started to itch.
"And of course, you'll be there too, General Lergen," said Rudersdorf with a broad grin. "The conqueror of Ildoa and savior of the Federation couldn't possibly miss such a momentous occasion, after all !"
Taking a deep breath, Lergen reminded himself that punching another high-ranking officer days after his promotion probably wasn't a good career move.
"Hear me, and know this : Her beauty is a gift of the true gods.
Her eyes are more wondrous than the world's greatest jewels.
The radiance of the sun pales compared to the fire of Her hair.
She will find the Son of Heaven and bind him to Her,
That he and all who serve him might bow to the gods.
Know this, oh unfortunate souls who have yet to behold Her radiance :
All shall love Her and rejoice."
Text found carved with impeccable calligraphy on the back of a human sacrifice in a Akitsushiman village otherwise devoid of any sign of human presence by a joint task force of Akitsushiman Onmyōji and Qinese magi, August 22nd, 1926.
Interviewer : "We've linked you to the murder of seventeen people in the last month. There's no denying your guilt – God knows you didn't even try, what with the trophies you kept in your home. That's not what we're here. What we want to know is why."
Prisoner : "Because the Hierophant wills it. He demands blood, and I offer it up to him. I held no ill-will for those I slew, officer, but it was what I had to do."
Interviewer : "That name, 'the Hierophant'. We've heard it before. Who is he ? Who is the Hierophant ?"
Prisoner : "He is the ancient. He is the land. He speaks for the gods, and the gods demand blood, the blood that has been denied to them since the first people betrayed them and turned to the Adversary for help in overthrowing their reign. But now, his power is broken, the blow he was dealt echoing across all his many guises. Now, at long last, the elder ways are returning from their places of exile and imprisonment. As it was before, so shall it be again, forever and ever."
Interviewer : "What 'elder ways' ?"
Prisoner : "Come now, officer. You already know the answer to that question. But fine, I'll indulge you. The ways of blood, of course. Of death and fire. Murder's holy sacrament, a red rain that will drown the land and awaken the gods from their slumber, so that they can build their golden kingdom anew."
Interviewer : "… We'll come back to that later. We found out your name and identity. According to everyone who knew you, you were a good man before all this. What happened to you ? What did the Hierophant do to you to make you into a serial killer ?"
Prisoner : "He spoke to me in my dreams, and he showed me the truth. We exist to die, to spill our blood on the altars of the gods. They created us to serve, be it as workhorses or as cattle. Everything else is mere fantasy, the indulgence of a race that's gone too long without its proper masters and forgotten its place in the grand order of things."
Interviewer : "What about the Hierophant ? Where does he stand in that 'order' of yours ?"
Prisoner : "Hmm. I suppose, in that metaphor, he'd be the cattle rancher. Or perhaps the master of the abattoir ? His is the blade that delivers the gods' rightful meals to them, and me and the others he's graced with his touch are merely instruments of his will."
Interviewer : "And what does he look like ?"
Prisoner : "You really want to know ?" [Laughter] "He is magnificent. He is terrible. He wears a cloak of feathers made of the souls of sacrifices. Each of his fingers is a dagger that tears out the hearts of the worthy. His face is a bare skull of black stone carved with holy sigils. His eyes are two rubies that weep endless bloody tears."
Interviewer : "And where is he ?"
Prisoner : "In the deep darkness, where the light of false order could never reach. He waited for so, so very long, officer, trapped in his temple by the tricks his betrayers wove with the Adversary's secrets. But now he is free, and his voice reaches out. Only a few like me can hear it for now, but don't worry. Soon, everyone will hear it. Everyone will see the truth. Even you, officer."
Interviewer : "… Alright, that's enough for today. I'll have more questions for you tomorrow."
Prisoner : "No doubt you will, but you won't have answers, I'm afraid."
Interview of a criminal captured by the police of São Sebastião de Janiero, August 23rd, 1926, who committed his murders from the Solstice Event to his capture. The prisoner was found dead in his locked cell the next morning, having apparently ripped his own heart out of his chest in a fit of madness-induced strength. Autopsy and further investigation revealed that he possessed low level of mana potential, enough to power a low-level reinforcement spell – but where he could have learned that spell, or how he managed to cast it without a computation orb, remained unknown.
"… despite our best efforts, the fiend is getting closer and closer to the capital. She still isn't going in a straight line, but every week, she ends up just a few kilometers closer to what we must assume is her ultimate destination. Blocking the roads hasn't worked to even slow her down : whether she uses magical means of travel or simply uses her power to elude the mundane soldiers guarding the roads, the barrages aren't affecting her.
… things have changed as she continues to move, and not for the better. She is no longer alone : she has gathered followers around her, a cult to her made up of those she's bewitched. Most cannot keep up with her, or are eventually offered up in sacrifice to her twisted games – from what we've been able to gather, they all go to their deaths willingly, gladly even, such is the depth of the hold she has on them.
… she has started to leave messages behind for us to find, chilling missives which taunt us with our failures and threaten what she will do if she isn't stopped. We've also found testaments left by those she's bewitched, and if anything, they are even worse, for they remind us of how low those she enslaves can fall under her influence …
… In conclusion, though it brings great shame upon me and my order to admit it, it is my belief that we should ask for help to deal with the fiend. I have heard that a great gathering of Europan magi is currently planned, and I respectfully suggest that the Dominion reach out to our contacts there to secure an invitation …"
Extracts from a letter from Rokuro Adashino, Supreme Onmyōji of the Akitsushima Dominion, to the Akitsushiman Emperor, delivered to the Imperial Palace on August 24th, 1926.
"Blood and gold … blood and gold … blood and gold … BLOOD AND GOLD ! BLOOD AND GOLD ! BLOOD AND –"
Last magical transmission from the Brazilian expedition into the Quarantined Zone, August 26th, 1926. The mage who received the transmission turned violently insane, clawed out his own eyes, and went on an orb-powered rampage that killed twenty-nine people, howling the same three words over and over, before being put down by a cadre of mages. Due to the amount of damage inflicted on the corpse in the process, the autopsy couldn't obtain any clues as to what had caused him to go insane.
"… heard about military deployments before, but yesterday, the Brazilian Emperor himself summoned me to his palace. Apparently, the situation is much direr than I previously believed.
Over a thousand armed men were sent into the jungle which has been identified as the source of the disturbance in the region, and none of them came back. The last contact with them was a patchy radio transmission which, according to the Emperor's generals, contained 'nothing but screaming'. It's obvious they're all very, very nervous about what's going on – no, scratch that. They are afraid, to the point they aren't worried about losing prestige by letting their fear show, and trust me when I say that the Brazilian military is as proud as that of any Europan nation.
The Brazilian mana detection arrays are several generations behind those used in Europa, but they still detected massive spikes of energy from the forest at the time of the troops' disappearances. They had mages, but none of them managed to make it out either – which, considering the kind of mobility even a low-grade computation orb like the ones here are capable of, is worrying all by itself. I'm no expert, but it seems to me that unless a surprise attack managed to take them all out at once, at least one of the mages should have made it out to report.
The best guess as to what happened is that the Brazilian force encountered some manner of magical horror in the forest. A few years ago, I would have dismissed the whole thing as superstitious nonsense, and attributed the disappearances to some kind of secret group, perhaps a criminal cartel or conspiracy seeking to overthrow the Brazilian Emperor.
But with the Wunderwaffen that appeared in the Great War and what happened in Kemet and Russy, I am forced to consider that there might be more to it than that. And, of course, there are the murders which are happening in this country – one of the embassy's workers was killed just last week; he was just a janitor, but still, the thought is a sobering and worrying one.
The Brazilian Emperor has already ordered the settlements closest to the area to be evacuated, mobilizing the army to ensure this is done as fast as possible. He told me his intent to establish a sort of quarantine zone, with no one approaching the area, in the hope that whatever is responsible won't venture out. However, he is aware that this only a delaying tactic at best.
Thus, during our meeting yesterday, the Emperor told me that, given our army's recent exploits in Russy, he would greatly appreciate our assistance in identifying and neutralizing this threat to his people. Speaking as someone who lives here, I would also appreciate any support our army could provide in dealing with this new supernatural threat …"
Extract from a letter from the USA ambassador in the Empire of Brazil to the USA's Department of State, August 28th, 1926.
"I got a new order from the Imperial Palace today. Same as it has been for years now : pork, chicken, beef, goat, and everything else that bleeds, as fresh as possible and in large quantities. I can only assume the Kaiser got a new favorite cook a few years back who's a genius at meat-based dishes. Or maybe these rumors that His Majesty is sponsoring some of the soup kitchens in the capital are truer than I thought and the meat is going into the commoners' cooking pots, which would be a bit of a waste given the quality I'm procuring. Still, I hope the folks at the Palace are getting their veggies : I haven't heard about similar purchases of greens in the capital's markets.
But that's not my job to worry about that : all I need to do is find the meat and make sure it's good enough for His Imperial Majesty's table. Then I deliver, and I get my payment. I've got to say, I heard all manners of horror stories about the nobility trying to stiff us working folks on the bills, but the Palace hasn't done that, not once in the three years since I got put into contact with the intendant. And the money has been good, even if it's stressful work – there are other kind of horror stories, after all, about folks who disappoint the Imperial family. Sure, these days they can't make you disappear in a dark dungeon with a word, but they could definitely ruin my reputation with the aristocracy.
At least now that the war is over, getting the meat should be easier. Not that it was ever really difficult : even with rationing in place, it's amazing how many exceptions apply once you say you're buying for the Kaiser – as long as you've the proper paperwork to prove it, of course."
From the private journal of a butcher catering to the nobility and working in Berun, August 30th, 1926.
AN : So, obviously my plans to have this story finished by Halloween didn't come to fruition. Still, I hope this chapter was a suitable seasonal offering, and I still plan to finish this story before the end of the year.
For the people asking me whether I'm planning to write a sequel to this story ... let's wait until you've seen the ending I have in mind, alright ? As you might have noticed, things aren't so much winding down as gathering momentum in the shadows.
As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to your thoughts and comments.
Next : Tanya goes to the Imperial Palace !
Zahariel out.