Daybreak on Hyperion (Original Fantasy)

Gabriel Gautier de Gaetane, Duke of Atrebatois and brother of the Rhin-Lotharingie Emperor, knelt in prayer before the Cross of Holy Hyperion when the gates to the stone chapel opened.
It feels like an awful waste. He understands what a religion turns into when it gets political power, he appreciates his wife's discretion about him being gay-or-asexual, he knows full well that this is wrong... and he still decides to start a civil war while his country's being invaded.
 
Well, I was thinking if the upcoming attack prevents Weichsel from providing any assistance south, and the rebellion in Rhin-Lotharingie collapses their ability to hold against the caliphate, then the trinitarians might be swept away and the caliphate would still have enough forces to stand off the legions. Net long-term loss for the pope, so if it gets close he's got to prop up Rhin-Lotharingie somehow despite initiating the rebellion, I think.

The Pope wouldn't necessarily see it like that anyways. A few factors to consider:
  • The Pope has a long-running Investiture Controversy with the crown of Rhin-Lotharingie (noted back in v1ch7).
  • Due to the Not-Roman Empire never collapsing and Caesaropapism still being active, the Pope is technically a vassal of the Imperator, and this move largely plays into the Imperator's agenda in "Make the Imperium Great Again"
  • Rhin-Lotharingie views the Holy Imperium as their main enemy, as the Imperium has occupied them for generations. In the past, they've more often sided with the Caliphate and against the Imperium. Religious affiliation often pales in consideration to realpolitik, which you can find examples in the real world -- France sided with the Protestants during the Thirty Years War despite being a Catholic state, and it formed an alliance with the Ottomans against the Habsburg/Papal-led Holy League.
All this makes the relationship between the Empire and the Church... very complicated.


It feels like an awful waste. He understands what a religion turns into when it gets political power, he appreciates his wife's discretion about him being gay-or-asexual, he knows full well that this is wrong... and he still decides to start a civil war while his country's being invaded.

Sadly I can't get into Gabriel's designs as that would be a massive set of spoilers. I can only say he has the most complicated set of motivations of all the characters I've written thus far.
 
Volume 2 Chapter 12 – Late Night Confidence
Volume 2 Chapter 12 – Late Night Confidence

Kaede couldn't stop feeling nervous as she sat at the same table as a King, two generals, four brigadiers, two colonels, a landgrave, plus the crown princess and her bodyguard. The fact she was one of only two people not wearing a uniform didn't help her anxiety, especially as the other was Princess Sylviane who sat on the far side of the table from her.

Despite the Keep's austere exterior, Pascal's father had the public areas inside built and decorated with no expenses spared. The opulent dining room exemplified this with its huge crystal chandeliers and life-sized paintings. It was fit to host state banquets — something Kaede would never have imagined attending, let alone as a girl.

The Samaran girl fidgeted as she pulled on the soft velvet that clung to the top of her arms. Her bared shoulders and half-exposed back made her feel uneasy, especially as she sat in the presence of royalty.

What do womens' dresses have against shoulders anyway?

The evening dress she wore was a deep, garnet-red over white and looked somewhat victorian in design. It left everything above her breasts exposed, except for her neck which was hidden beneath a wide choker. Pascal must have used her measurements to order the dress in advance for it to fit her so perfectly. Sylviane had forced Kaede to change into it before dinner when the Princess herself switched into her own starry, deep-violet gown.

It also made Kaede realize that even Weichsel's formalwear for ladies involved a leather corset, only it was hidden underneath.

The one bit of good news was that Pascal had at least seated her directly to his left. Meanwhile King Leopold sat on the far side of the table from his host, with Princess Sylviane playing the role of the hostess as she sat left of the King. The arrangement seemed almost natural, given that everybody knew Pascal and Sylviane were betrothed. But it was also convenient, as it offered the Princess plenty of opportunity to talk to His Majesty. At the same time, Cecylia's father General Wiktor sat to the King's right and could help promote the continued Weichsel-Lotharin Alliance.

However at the current moment, King Leopold was eyeing the snowy-haired familiar as he asked Pascal with an amused grin:

"So you really did summon a Samaran girl for a familiar. I could scarcely believe it when I first heard the report from Gerhard."

The King's question across the length of the table seized everyone's attention with ease. Kaede froze in her seat as she felt most of the attendees' eyes fall upon her.

"Yes, and she has been worth every effort," Pascal grinned and he declared with staunch pride in his voice.

"It's certainly not every day when a familiar sets an ambush for professional assassins and succeeds at it," the King acknowledged. "Tell me, Miss Familiar, what other talents did you bring from your former life?"

Does the King know I'm not from this world? Kaede thought. He should, considering that Cecylia knew about it and she worked as an agent of the King. Yet the King made no mention of it.

…And unless he did, Kaede wouldn't either, as she wasn't keen on disclosing it to any more people and having to explain through it all.

"I-I-I w-was a student, Your Majesty," she stuttered as nervousness filled her wispy voice. "H-history and cultural studies, mostly. I'm a-afraid my role against the assassins was a l-lucky coincidence due to their misinformation on me."

"I see the Samaran reputation for humbleness continues to hold true," King Leopold smiled with amusement. "Opportunity may arise by luck, but the ability to recognize and exploit it requires both acuity and skill. I'd say you've learned well from your history lessons, Miss Familiar."

"T-thank you, Your Majesty," Kaede returned an awkward smile but she was too skittish to think of anything else to say.

Unfortunately, the King wasn't done with her yet.

"Tell me, Miss Familiar, what is your thought on the Trans-Hyperion Polarity Rail that the Grand Republic is currently building? I've heard the project was much debated within the Grand Republic."

The King then looked towards one of his colonels, a particularly beautiful officer with straight, light-blonde that reached down to his thin shoulders. In fact, had it not been for Pascal telling her, Kaede wouldn't even be able to tell if Colonel Hannes von Falkenberg — commander of the Black Eagles — was a man.

He was also a dhampir, as revealed by the sapphire-blue crosses in his ocean-blue gaze.

"The project was approved by the State Duma and the Grand Prince six year ago," Hannes nodded to his king. "Construction began after three years of preparations, with the first tracks laid westward from the capital city of Ilmen." The dhampir then turned his attention towards Kaede: "the project is certainly of great interest to all neighboring countries, considering the sheer scope and tremendous expense of such a mega-infrastructure undertaking."

Polarity Rail? Kaede almost voiced her confusion out loud when the King asked. Her anxiety shot skyward and her mind almost blanked out as the King questioned her over something she knew nothing about.

Thankfully, her thoughts had echoed it over her familiar bond instead.

"<It is similar to the 'high-speed rail' network you mentioned from your home country of Japan, except its speed is anything but 'high' as even a horse could run faster,>" Pascal helpfully explained over their private link. Both his voice and the recognizable topic went a long way to help calm Kaede's nerves.

"<Nevertheless, the polarity rail represents the cutting-edge of geomancy. It is built along ley-lines and utilizes the inexhaustible ether source to transport bulk cargo by means of lodestone repulsion.>"

Lodestones? Kaede puzzled as she took a deep breath. She remembered that they were the term used for naturally-magnetized magnetite, which had been used by the ancient Chinese to create the first compass. To build a 'rail' system based on lodestones implied that the 'polarity rail' ran on magnetic repulsion. The reliance on ley-lines and its ether hinted that the magnetic forces were amplified by magic. This somehow gave it enough strength that made it viable to carry freight over long distances.

It sounds like Samara already began on this world's equivalent of the 'Trans-Siberian Railroad', Kaede pondered in awe as her composure slowly returned. Unlike Earth, both the Europe and Asia of this world were grouped under the single supercontinent 'Hyperion'.

"I-I think the expense is worth the undertaking, Your Majesty," Kaede reflected. "A transcontinental freight line between eastern and western Hyperion would cement Samara's dominance over the sil…"

She almost said 'Silk Road' before correcting herself.

"–Over the east-west trade between the cultural spheres of the two Imperiums. This is especially important for the Grand Republic to maintain its trade dominance while advancements in seafaring technology continues to improve the efficiency of maritime trade, which the Grand Republic lacks access compared to other states. Furthermore, given Samara's sheer size and the distances between its cities, any improvements in infrastructure to reduce transport costs would be a great asset in stimulating both commerce and industry."

Kaede didn't forget that one of the reasons for the decline of Imperial Russia in 19th century Earth was its failure to keep up in railroad construction, which was exacerbated by the vast distances between Russian cities. The inability to transport materials and goods efficiently created a downward spiral which made Russia lag behind the other great powers in industrialization and trade.

The Samaran girl also didn't notice that she had stopped her occasional stutter, and was now speaking almost naturally before the King.

"Is the Grand Republic not worried that such a megaproject would bankrupt the state?" General Neithard asked from the opposite side of the table. His expression was a poker face as always, but there was a hint in his tone that gave Kaede the impression that he disapproved of it. "At the very least, such a heavy burden on state finances for years if not decades would leave it vulnerable — neither able to respond effectively to crisis, nor able to exploit opportunities."

It reminded Kaede that the elderly Manteuffel was the leader of Weichsel's conservative faction, and 'conservative' in internal affairs meant they wished to preserve the socioeconomic status quo.

"That's why it's important for the rail to be built in segments," Kaede stated, hoping that the Samarans of this world were just as smart as project planners back on Earth. "The existing cities and trade hubs of the Grand Republic should be connected, one at a time, with priority given to cities that show the highest projected benefits. As each segment of rail becomes operational, the linked cities can immediately start profiting from the investment while the next phase of construction begins. This breaks even a most daunting megaproject into manageable, bite-sized chunks with steady payoffs.

"A war or other 'black swan' event might disrupt this endeavor and bring a temporary halt to the project," she continued. "But as the country becomes more interconnected thanks to improved infrastructure, it also enhances the ability of the state to respond to such events."

"'Black swan?'" The King raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, Your Majesty. It's a metaphor from my homeland," Kaede explained sheepishly. "It means an unexpected if not unforeseeable event that creates a ripple effect, leading to a chain of consequences that significantly affects macroeconomics and geopolitics."

"Charming expression," King Leopold beamed with an impressed nod. "It seems to me that you are not just a student of history, but also in economics and geopolitical strategy."

"I've… dabbled in it," Kaede replied with an awkward smile, as she thought of the countless discussions she had with her father on the topic, or the many papers and articles he shared with her over the years.

"Tell me, what do you think would be Weichsel's optimal response to such a megaproject?" King Leopold asked next.

"Uhhhh, I-I'm not sure my knowledge of Weichsel is s-sufficient enough to offer a good reply, Your Majesty," Kaede began to stutter again, as her nervousness from prior returned upon her entry into unfamiliar territory.

"Try anyway," the King smiled encouragingly.

Kaede was about to look towards Pascal when she heard her master's confidence as well. "<You can do it.>"

"Ummmm, I-I think… t-the best course that I can see Weichsel embarking on… is to c-construct its own rail system," Kaede thought aloud. "Weichsel occupies a strategic location in the Saale Corridor, which — thanks to the impassable Dead Mountains and the dangerous North Sea — forms the only land link between Western Hyperion and the Grand Republic of Samara. If a rail line could be built from the Weichsel-Samara border all the way to Nordkreuz, Weichsel could cement itself as the nexus of trade and exchange between four major cultures: the Imperium in the south through the Albis river, the Lotharins in the west through the twin Lotharingie rivers, the Hyperboreans to the north through the the North Sea, and Samarans in the east as well as through it, the Dawn Imperium to the far east."

"And such a position would provide us a tremendous boost in trade income, a great boon to the coffers and development of Weichsel," General Wiktor pitched in from the far end. His voice was one of clear approval, making it obvious that he was in support of such a project.

However the same could be not said for General Neithard, who interceded as the devil's advocate again:

"But what about security?" He asked with a concerned look. "Wealth spurs envy, and wealthy lands entice the gaze of would-be conquerors. If Weichsel links itself by polarity rail to the Grand Republic, how could we guarantee that the next train which comes through is not carrying goods for trade, but supply and ammunition to accompany an invasion force?"

Not this drivel again, Kaede found herself instinctively annoyed, before remembering that this wasn't Earth and the general wasn't alluding to the 'Russian Menace'. She also recalled that Tsar Nicolas I of Russia decided to make the Russian rail gauge different from the rest of Europe, which precisely addressed the concern that the elderly Manteuffel spoke of.

After all, from Poland-Lithuania to Carolean Sweden to Napoleonic France to Nazi Germany, Russia had found itself invaded and ravaged by European powers roughly once every century. The ensuing cultural trauma made Russians extremely wary of their national security, and caused many Russian leaders to pursue an 'aggressive defense' policy that sought to create buffer states to limit their exposure to future invasions.

Yet, this often played straight into the propaganda of its adversaries, who prodded Russian insecurity while claiming that it was a menace that wanted to 'conquer Europe'.

Thankfully, none of this applied to the Grand Republic of Samara, since the accursed Dead Mountains created a natural barrier that shielded it from Western Hyperion. This allowed the Russians of this world to focus on what their ancestors did best — long-distance trade and taming the wilderness.

"In that case, why not use part of the new tax revenues to build additional fortresses?" Kaede suggested. "The Saale Corridor is already narrow and easy to defend. Trying to conquer a fortified pass is like trying to catch a porcupine. We Samarans are a peaceful people. And even if the Grand Republic suddenly became militaristic, the prospect of throwing away profitable trade links just to bite down on a rock simply isn't worth the shattered teeth."

By the time Kaede finished and focused back on the King, she noticed that Leopold was giving Pascal an odd, knowing look.

"I swear I did not tell her any of that, Your Majesty," Pascal declared with pride.

"I guess even your familiar takes after your father," Leopold's lips formed a bemused smirk. "Her arguments are roughly similar to Karl's from the economic angle. Of course, Karl also did not miss the military benefits of having our country connected by Polarity Rail." He added before looking to his 'Accountant General'.

"It would certainly make my job a great deal easier," General Wiktor chuckled. "The Polarity Rail's overland speed is comparable to encumbered horses. However trains need neither rest nor fodder whereas animals do. Transporting troops and equipment around the country would be significantly faster, and…"

The dhampir general trailed off as the door to the dining room opened and in marched a line of Pascal's household servants, each carrying a tray of food. Like the others, Kaede immediately found her gaze drawn in by the delicious aroma of spanferkel. Two roasted suckling pigs were cooked to a luscious golden brown and sliced in a way that maintained their shape. Along with it came roasted beet and soused herring salad, honey mustard chicken salad, white asparagus in hollandaise, and many other dishes.

A proper holiday feast at last! Kaede rejoiced.

She had missed the Winter Solstice feast back at the academy, and their New Year's Eve dinner had been largely occupied by discussions of logistics. She had never imagined herself spending a holiday travelling and attending conferences, but the state dinner was a welcomed reward.

Kaede didn't even mind that she was more than a hint famished as the potbellied majordomo began serving the guests, starting from the King. However, as her eyes examined the other dishes that were added straight to the table, her gaze fell upon a familiar figure while her mind froze.

Marina.

The maid wore a forced smile as she placed a bowl of salad on the table and backed away. However, before she departed the room, her eyes met Kaede's with a cold, distant stare.

I really should have prepared for this, Kaede thought to herself. Between the royals, the politics, and all the generals, she had completely forgotten that she would be meeting Marina again.

Nevertheless, as the lieutenant-colonel who sat besides her leaned over to chat, the Samaran girl resolved herself to talk to Marina after dinner tonight. She wasn't sure what face she should put on to confront her one-time friend. But she knew that she had to at least try to salvage their relationship.





Despite Kaede's apprehension towards meeting Marina again, it was inevitable that the long meal and its dinner chatter would pull her in. There were simply too many interesting people seated around the table. This included one balding, late-forties intelligence officer who sat next to her.

"You can't cast? At all?" The familiar remarked in astonishment as she stared with open lips.

"Believe me I've tried. Even pretended I could, back in my younger days," Lieutenant-Colonel Hans Ostergalen chuckled at himself. "But no, not even a spark. All it did was make me look silly."

"I did tell you that the lieutenant-colonel was a commoner, not a yeoman," Pascal commented from her right before taking another mouthful of his own dinner, which as always came with a bowl of cheesy beer soup. He then nudged her over telepathy, "<and you are being rude.>"

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" Kaede broke off her stare and looked back down, before realizing that she had forgotten about the sliced spanferkel on her fork.

"That's quite alright," Hans grinned back with a natural smile that foretold his future life as a jolly old grandpa. "I've met plenty of others who were just as surprised. It's certainly very unusual for an officer without any magical ability to advance beyond captain."

"And doubly rare to be promoted past major. That is the career ceiling for most officers: anyone without special talent," Pascal added. Clearly, Hans was someone competent enough to earn his respect.

"You must have worked really hard to get here," Kaede looked back up in admiration.

"It certainly wasn't easy," Hans' smile turned wry as he shrugged. "Commanding officers from platoon to battalion level are all expected to fight alongside frontline troops and raise defensive wards. It's why they're called MCOs, or Magic-Capable Officers. I can't cast any, so I've had to climb the ladder without a single battlefield command experience."

Kaede nodded back as she ate. Career building in the military expected a broad range of experiences across different roles, with combat leadership being the most important. To rise through the ranks without ever being a frontline commander was like trying to run a marathon in crutches.

"It also doesn't help that I can only stay in the military for fifty years at most, while the mages have well over a century before they reach retirement age," Hans scowled, with a slow sigh that exposed the lingering bitterness underneath his begrudging acceptance. "Still, complaining about it isn't going to change my birth. I got over what I don't have, and focused on what I do."

Make the best of a situation. He's just like me, Kaede thought with a smile. "You must be one of Weichsel's best analysts if you rose this high on staff experience alone."

"Father used to compare you to Marshal Mittermeyer." Pascal expressed next as he casually stirred his soup. His compliment, however, almost made the lieutenant-colonel choke on his food.

"I'm flattered, but I'm nowhere near that level!" Hans replied as he wiped his lips with a napkin. "My forte lies in analyzing our adversaries' actions and predicting their next moves, but it still falls upon others to translate that into a proper operational plan. That's a longshot from Hermann von Mittermeyer. After all, his strategic acumen was crucial in King Ferdinand's campaign against the Great Heathen Army."

The name was renowned enough for even Kaede to recognize. Hermann Mittermeyer began his career as a mere stable boy to the young Ferdinand I von Drachenlanzen, the founding King of Weichsel. After saving the King's life in an ambush, he became one of Ferdinand's aides, where his keen military insight would propel him through the ranks to eventually become a general and marshal — the only commoner to do so in Western Hyperion history.

His legacy also cemented the nation's meritocratic military traditions. Furthermore, he established a precedent in the west for being the first non-yeoman commoner to be given a hereditary rank of nobility. Though it was only after he married a noblewoman to ensure that his descendants had magical affinity.

"Perhaps not marshal, but Father thought you had the making of a general in you," Pascal then added with a bittersweet smile. "It was why he suggested that I talk to you more back during the autumn campaign, so I could absorb more of your insight. Though he laughed when I told him that I would surely catch up to you with a decade or two of experience."

"As an analyst? You'll need more than just a decade," Hans smirked back as he tilted his head and propped it casually with his left arm, his filled plate already miraculously emptied. "Remember, my biggest lacking also gives me an advantage in focus: unlike you, I don't have to spend thousands of hours learning to cast spells and maintaining that expertise."

"And that's a lot of time you can focus on studying Weichsel's enemies," Kaede realized, prompting a pleased, almost-smug nod from the lieutenant-colonel.

"For an analyst, it's important to keep up to date with news from around the world, and not just the big headline items either," Hans explained. "It helps to understand countries and people, particularly leaders, when you have a long-term view of their character established over years if not decades. Knowing their behavior patterns and core values can provide an in-depth understanding of how they view any situation and prioritize goals. However, scouring through that much news also takes a lot of time. The Black Eagles generate a tremendous amount of intelligence, and not all of it useful."

In other words, he's been info-stalking everyone important and building character profiles on them for decades. Kaede thought. She could certainly appreciate how it worked, considering her own father often discussed the politics of national leaders on Earth by citing their long career history and how it shaped their worldview.

"So do you know what makes Pascal tick then?" Kaede joked with a beaming smile.

"Talk to me afterwards," Hans whispered openly with a playful wink.

"Sir, I must protest: conspiring against me with my familiar is not a good way of maintaining my support," Pascal grinned a little himself. "Though I am surprised that you did not request a vice-brigadier position for this campaign. Brigade command hardly cares about one's capacity in spellcraft. And while the position normally expects a full colonel, I am sure there are opportunities now that the King has invoked the Writ of Universal Conscription."

Hans smiled a little before sitting back upright. However Kaede could also see that a shade of caution had crept into his brown eyes.

"This campaign will make or break General Neithard's candidacy for Marshal. I owe the general everything I am today. I'm not about to abandon him in his hour of need."

Kaede found herself almost astonished. It was hard to imagine the stone-faced elderly Manteuffel — who had excused himself from the room earlier, possibly to visit the latrines — being a gracious superior, especially to a commoner given that his conservative faction was dominated by the old noble families. But clearly, he had some virtues to gain the staunch loyalty of his subordinates, enough to make Pascal worried about his growing influence within the army.

"And of course, if he manages that, you would have a better chance of achieving generalship yourself in the future," Pascal added with a knowing smirk.

"I never said it was entirely selflessness on my part," Hans chuckled.



—— * * * ——



The room Kaede received as her own had recently been furnished. Its size was modest and comparable to modern bedrooms, but the contents were far more opulent than she was used to. A queen-size four-poster bed layered in rich fabrics took the center, its sides lined by long, intricate rugs. A small writing desk and bookshelf stayed against the wall on one side, while a large dressing table flanked by mahogany wardrobes occupied the other.

There was also a closet in the corner that camouflaged itself as a small wardrobe, but actually hid the chamber pot that she hated to be reminded of.

The bedcovers and window curtains all came in a gentle floral-pink, then adorned with a vine-like green pattern that gave it the semblance of a flowerbed. Their overabundance of ruffles and laces projected an air of extreme girlishness. Combined with the large wardrobes that devoted way too much space for clothing — including another dress that Pascal had already prepared for her — it made Kaede wonder:

Is Pascal deliberately trying to feminize me?

She definitely needed to have a talk with Pascal about this. Nevertheless, Kaede did appreciate the fact that Pascal at least kept her interests in mind. This was most noticeable in how he left several books on Weichsel in her room, as well as a huge map of Western Hyperion which hung from the wall.

Most meaningful of all — her room was in the same corridor as Pascal's own, just down the hall that was meant for only the lord's immediate family. It certainly explained the attitude of the maids, who politely addressed Kaede as 'Milady' when they met, only to whisper quietly once she was out of ordinary earshot.

Kaede scowled as she remembered hearing the word 'whore' at least once.

They were partially right though: Kaede wasn't a 'lady' by any means. She had neither the upbringing nor the refinement, and certainly not the noble blood. Furthermore, familiars were meant to be servants for their mage masters, and Kaede's unusual relationship with Pascal certainly seemed to have become a topic of much gossip.

In hindsight, Princess Sylviane had been perfectly reasonable when she arranged for Kaede to stay in the servants' quarters of Oriflamme Palace. But even that did little to quell the rumor mongering.

Give me a break already. Kaede thought as she fell back into her soft bed. Can't a girl just fit in without being judged?

She rather doubted she would have any of these troubles if she was still a boy.

Nevertheless, as Kaede looked to the ceiling of her four-poster bed, she couldn't help feel touched by Pascal's gesture. His summoning had ripped Kaede from her family back on Earth. In exchange, he was offering her the chance to join a new one.

Kaede felt a hint of moisture gather in her eyes as she thought of it that way.

There was never any doubt on whether Kaede would accept. After everything she promised on the roof of Alisia Academy's dormitory keep, she wasn't about to leave Pascal to occupy this hallway by himself. The fact he refused to move into the master bedroom showed that he still wasn't over his father's death, despite the brave front he put on to show the world.

In the meantime though, she had another concern — and it was one that she needed to tackle now.

"Marina, please take a seat," Kaede said as she sat back upright on the velvet bedcovers. Then, when the maid looked hesitant, her pink eyes almost pleaded: "Please."

The petite maid sat down on the cushy chair at Kaede's reading desk. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the two once more. Even Kaede had trouble starting the conversation as she eyed the shade of black under Marina's reddened eyes. The maid had clearly been crying a lot over the past few weeks.

"How are they treating you here?" Kaede asked before glancing down. Her words were more wispy than usual.

"It's a life." Marina shrugged. Her voice wasn't hateful, but neither did it contain any other emotion. "Majordomo Karsten judges us on a purely professional basis, so he's cordial as long as my work is done proper."

"How are they forcing you to stay?"

Kaede was curious, but now that she asked she felt like a block of insensitivity. Marina's life had been reduced to one of slavery, and here all she could think of was ask more questions.

"They don't need to…" The maid's tone stayed bland even as she pulled up one sleeve and revealed a faintly-glowing tattoo inscribed just above her wrist. It featured two links of chains crossed with what looked like a broom. The symbol seemed to mark Marina as an indentured domestic servant. The word 'law' written just beneath made it obvious that it had been done so on judicial grounds.

"It's a Geas brand," Marina's eyes teared as she explained in a whisper, as though her words might set it off had they rang any louder. "It forbids me from leaving the estate's premises without permission, and will shock me if I attempt to. It also makes it impossible for me to lie when activated, which Majordomo Karsten did before he let me come with you."

Kaede had wondered why Pascal trusted Marina to attend her — because there wasn't any actual 'trust' involved.

Ever since Marina had been sent away from the academy, Kaede had began reading about the institution of slavery on Hyperion. The practice had been outlawed centuries ago by the Dawn Imperium in the east and the Grand Republic in the north. Even the Holy Imperium, with its historic economy built on slave labor, recognized that slaves were persons and offered them limited rights.

In other words, slavery in Hyperion was much closer to the practices of the late Romans — especially after the Code of Justinian which guaranteed them basic protections — than the more infamous Atlantic Slave Trade which treated black slaves as pure property.

The countries of Weichsel and Rhin-Lotharingie both abandoned slavery in its traditional form. However both continued to use 'indentured servitude' as a means of debt collection and punishment. The practice was widely seen as an effective means of 'justice', as it forced the criminal to provide recompense for their crimes by working off a timed contract for the wronged party. However just like the Imperium did for slaves, both nations also gave indentured servants certain rights — for example Marina could own private property, and received legal protection from murder or even crippling punishments.

"Can it be removed?"

Marina shook her head.

"They said that while any spell can be dispelled with enough power, this mark will detect any attempt and activate at max intensity. So sure, it's removable. But whether I survive the attempt or not…" She finished before she pulled down her sleeves and covered the mark once more. "The same thing will happen if the brand runs out of mana, which Majordomo Karsten fills periodically as long as I serve here."

"Then… how long do they expect you to stay… an indentured servant?"

Just forcing out those two words burned Kaede's tongue. It might be common in a traditional, eye-for-an-eye legal system. But being synonymous to slavery still gave it a barbaric edge in her worldview. After all, the last society on Earth that practiced systemic slavery was brought to an end when the Dalai Lama's caste-based theocracy in Tibet was overthrown.

"For assisting the attempted murder of a high noble? Life for a life." Marina stated. Then, the maid finally unveiled her acidic disdain as she added: "What did your naive little head think it was going to be? Maybe I would be quietly hung with a sack over my face?"

Kaede winced. Perhaps the activated brand was making Marina a little too honest.

"I'm sorry, Marina, but please believe me. I didn't want anything this bad for you…"

Yet even as she said that, Kaede couldn't look Marina in the eyes. It wasn't even naivety. Kaede simply didn't think about it much back then. Sure, she had voiced objections, but she also allowed herself to be silenced the moment Pascal grew insistent. Though at the same time Marina was also right — any punishment feudal law would have handed down for her role in the assassination attempt would be far worse than this.

The Samaran girl then took a deep breath and tried again:

"You paid loyalty to a master for raising you. I can understand that. I even respect it. But my own life is tied to Pascal's. So just as you saw no other choice, neither did I."

"W-why do you care if I believe you?" Marina retorted in a standoffish tone. "I mean, if that's what you believe, then why are you even being nice to me? I could have killed you in connection to him."

"Because I know you were candid in your offer," Kaede answered as she forced her sincere gaze to stay on Marina's swollen sea-green eyes. "And because if you hadn't said anything, that assassin's arrow would have shot straight through my neck."

"Isn't that why you had my punishment reduced to this?" The maid interrupted, though her tone softened mid-sentence. It was a faint sign that behind the barbed wires of pride, there was also a shadow of gratitude.

Clearly, the maid had conflicts of her own when it came to Kaede. There was no doubt that Marina blamed Kaede for her current predicament. After all, Kaede did trick Marina and used her to bait the assassins into a trap. But at the same time, Marina also seemed to recognize that Kaede did help her — even if this help didn't actually leave her with much of a life.

"I had wanted to go further but… Pascal wouldn't budge." Kaede explained. "However I don't think this is the right treatment for you, not for what you did. And… there is one more reason…" The familiar girl noted as her wispy voice fell to barely a whisper. "You were my first friend in this world, Marina, and I really didn't want to let go."

"Well that's impossible now," Marina's sour retort came as a matter of fact.

A brief silence returned, followed by a deep, heartfelt sigh from Kaede.

"I know… I'm occasionally idealistic, not spontaneously idiotic."

The Samaran girl wondered if she would ever again see that angelic smile — the one that lifted her spirits during her gloomy initial week in this world. An idea then struck her and Kaede pursed her lips in deep thought as she struggled to consider its details. Pascal's intentions for her standing did seem quite obvious, which meant she needed a servant she could rely on.

She only wished that her 'trust' wasn't founded on a penal curse.

"Marina, I think… I can still offer you something," Kaede gently tested the waters. "Since Pascal will probably assign me a servant, would you be willing to become my maid? I promise I'll treat you as kindly as I can. And I welcome you to voice your objections when I do misstep."

Marina's eyes swelled in surprise. Yet within those rounded, glassy orbs also clashed a conflict between disbelief and suspicion. If there were any appreciation at all, they were very faint traces.

It's going to take a looooong time for her to trust me again. Kaede sighed. "Would it help if I let you hit me?"

The maid's eyebrows went up further. Of all things, she clearly wasn't expecting that.

"I'm told the spell will also activate if I try to physically harm another person," she muttered.

Though one point was clear: she did want to hit Kaede, or give the familiar a hard slap, or some other medium of venting anger and frustration upon the Samaran girl who tricked her back at the academy.

That's… probably a good sign, actually, Kaede thought. The desire to vent was both more direct and less extreme than the alternative — when anger transformed into hatred and buried itself as a scheming desire for revenge. Maybe there's a slim chance after all.

"You won't always have his favor like now, you know," Marina warned as she wiped her eyes. "Especially once he becomes the Lotharins' king consort. There will be more people around him then, powerful figures far more interesting than just a novelty familiar."

It was an odd way to agree, however tentative it was. But at this point Kaede simply sagged with relief to hear an opportunity.

"Then I just have to keep up," she answered, a faint smile finally returning to her expression.

It was easier said than done. However Pascal had summoned her for a companion in his long journey, and Kaede promised that she would do her best to support him. Besides, knowing what she did about Pascal, Kaede doubted that the young lord was the fickle type. He had promised her that she would become part of his household, and Pascal took his promises very seriously.

She also didn't forget Marina's former occupation for a second.

"Although… that does lead me to a request for you, Marina," Kaede began. "Since you were an observer for an Imperial lord before this…"

Marina blinked several times, her expression suddenly blank and lost.

"I won't ask about your former master's identity," Kaede reassured with a wave. "But could you keep a tab on as many happenings within this keep as you can? Inconspicuously? And tell me if you find anything that I may find of interest, especially anything that feels out of place or suspicious."

After all, there was no better counterespionage than the eyes of a former spy.

"You want me to spy on the staff and visitors for you?" the maid whispered with incredulity, as if the list of surprises would never end.

"I'm not sure if 'spying' is the best word. More like, 'looking out for spies'," Kaede returned an awkward smile. "Heaven knows that a landgrave has his foes. I don't think Pascal underestimates most opponents, but arrogance certainly leaves chinks in the armor. And it's part of my job to watch out for his back."

"What makes this any different from my last mission then?"

Marina struck Kaede with one last hammer for the night, but the latter made almost an immediate recovery this time:

"Because you can just leave any info with me," she smiled back with tired eyes, "and I'll handle the reckless parts this time."





The next morning, when Kaede inquired Pascal about her idea at breakfast, the latter replied with an incredulous tone:

"You want to make her a lady's maid?"

"I don't know how much of a 'lady' I am, but why not?" Kaede asked. "I know her well. She's trained, in more ways than one. It seems a good fit."

Pascal shook his head in disbelief.

"Marina is qualified. That I have no doubt. But a lady's maid — and you are a lady, as far as this household is concerned — is a considerable step up from just an average housemaid, let alone an indentured maid."

Pascal then met her stiff gaze and finally seemed to realize why she was doing this.

"You are being way too easy on her." He sighed.

"'In war, resolution; in defeat, defiance; in victory, magnanimity'… doubly so since she did try to help me," Kaede stated with a faint smile. "Besides, I still like her."

Pascal looked thoughtful for a moment, then:

"Is that another quote from your world?"

"Winston Churchill. Some consider him a great leader," Kaede added with a sarcastic tone. "I thought he was a racist warmongerer who committed crimes against humanity." She thought of Churchill's attempt to stop decolonization and his role in worsening the Bengal Famine. "But even people like him have at least some kindness."
 
n other words, slavery in Hyperion was much closer to the practices of the late Romans — especially after the Code of Justinian which guaranteed them basic protections
And if you think that this Code was obeyed when the master and victim were unobserved, I have a bridge to sell you on Mars. There is no safety from those above you but freedom.
 
Reminds me of when I watched a video on medieval dining ettiquette the other day and it's just like... yeah humanity seriously has a long tradition of double-standards between how we judge men vs women.


And if you think that this Code was obeyed when the master and victim were unobserved, I have a bridge to sell you on Mars. There is no safety from those above you but freedom.

Well sure. This was meant more as a discussion of "not all forms of slavery are equal".

A lot of "slaves' rights" codes in the Roman Empire and Islamic world was created due to either (1) those in power want less reasons for slaves to violently rebel (i.e. the Servile Wars caused Roman slaveowners to start treating slaves noticeably better than before) and (2) because those civilizations actually had social mobility for slaves, and once a while you can encounter even lords or more often, generals, who rose from slave origin. And if you were a particularly vile master they'd take reprisals. In both cases, there's at least some incentive to enforce said laws.
 
Well sure. This was meant more as a discussion of "not all forms of slavery are equal".
I guess I'm just sick of people pointing out insignificant legal details for the purpose of implying that any form of slavery is acceptable(besides consensually pretending at it for sex reasons, I just know someone's going to get pedantic here). Yes, I know that Kaede is mostly just trying to cope with her own inability to save Marina from the consequences of her misguided loyalty to the master that told her to sacrifice her life for their worthless ambition. I guess I'm just bringing in a more general gripe I have.
 
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To a certain extent I can appreciate the honesty of Slavery, with clear protections and rights over a lot of the other statuses that were supposedly better.

"They're not slaves, they're serfs! They're owned by the land! ...of course, the land can't give them orders, so I will give them orders in the land's place."

"They're free men. They can do what they want. They're starving because I taxed them into oblivion? Well, they're free to do that too."


Slavery is horrible, but sometimes it can be depicted as the most horrible possible outcome just because the word "slave" is used.
There's lots of horrible things that can happen to people!
 
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To a certain extent I can appreciate the honesty of Slavery, with clear protections and rights over a lot of the other statuses that were supposedly better.

"They're not slaves, they're serfs! They're owned by the land! ...of course, the land can't give them orders, so I will give them orders in the land's place."

"They're free men. They can do what they want. They're starving because I taxed them into oblivion? Well, they're free to do that too."


Slavery is horrible, but sometimes it can be depicted as the most horrible possible outcome just because the word "slave" is used.
There's lots of horrible things that can happen to people!
The way I would phrase that is "there exist/existed forms of slavery that don't/didn't use the word slave."
 
I guess I'm just sick of people pointing out insignificant legal details for the purpose of implying that any form of slavery is acceptable(besides consensually pretending at it for sex reasons, I just know someone's going to get pedantic here). Yes, I know that Kaede is mostly just trying to cope with her own inability to save Marina from the consequences of her misguided loyalty to the master that told her to sacrifice her life for their worthless ambition. I guess I'm just bringing in a more general gripe I have.

This may be the first time I've heard of anyone from this day and age trying to justify slavery as an institution.


"They're free men. They can do what they want. They're starving because I taxed them into oblivion? Well, they're free to do that too."

One of the things that historians sometimes argue is that the institution of slavery was eventually ended because it wasn't economical.
Slaves have not only a front-loaded capital cost (purchasing the slave) but also high opportunity costs -- you have to feed them, cloth them, give them shelter, offer them health and religious services, take care of the old and infirm (lest their families become unhappy), not to mention guarding them 24/7 (not only from escapes, but other slavers trying to take your 'property'). All of this gets expensive. Meanwhile if you don't take care of your slaves and they die, well you made a loss in investment.

Meanwhile, even as early as the late Roman era, we have historical evidence showing that landlords often opted to hire a cheap tenant farmer or laborers instead of slaves. Sure, they're paid (a pittance), but you're not in charge of all of their needs outside the job. If the laborer work himself to death in your salt mines, no loss to you, just hire another.

My point here is that paying someone a wage didn't automatically make things better than slavery. Though that certainly never made slavery 'acceptable'.
 
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This may be the first time I've heard of anyone from this day and age trying to justify slavery as an institution.
Well, nobody does it openly... but I find it hard to imagine any other motivation for the consistent nitpicking about the topic I've seen sometimes.

I bet you think it's just my pessimism acting up again, though.
 
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Well, nobody does it openly... but I find it hard to imagine any other motivation for the consistent nitpicking about the topic I've seen sometimes.

I bet you think it's just my pessimism acting up again, though.

I can't speak to the circumstances of the conversations involved. Though to use my favorite quote from Crash Course - "The truth resists simplicity."
 
Volume 2 Chapter 13 – Heroic Legacy
Volume 2 Chapter 13 – Heroic Legacy

Kaede twisted and turned her body as though she was stretching before gym class. She tried running in a tight circle to see if her new outfit imposed any detriment. She even took out her morphic blade and transformed it into a bow to try her archery stance. Though without a strength-boosting spell, she didn't stand a chance at pulling back the spring-steel limbs.

"How is it? Does it fit well?" Pascal asked with a mirthless expression from where he leaned against the shop's wall.

"It's… a lot easier to move than I would have expected?" The familiar said before looking down to examine the armor that she wore.

Despite all of Kaede's interest in history, she had never been into medieval reenactment. She always had the notion that 'armor' was meant to be heavy, bulky, and an impairment on mobility. However the set she wore at the moment was anything but that.

The pitch-black gambeson that Pascal had ordered to her measurements didn't look all that different from a modern quilted jacket — a girl's jacket at that, as it wrapped tightly around her waist and would have shown off her figure if she had more curves to speak of.

Kaede wore this padded armor over a black pseudo-uniform with white lines, which she had custom-made as the exact opposite to the white pseudo-uniform she wore back then. Its front buckles were half-hidden beneath a blackened steel chestplate that reached from her neck to just above her waist. The chest guard was held in place by leather straps that criss-crossed over her back and flaps around her waist. Meanwhile a simple kettle helmet adorned her head.

"Yes, well, this is really the minimum insofar as 'armor' goes," Pascal shrugged. "I did request the 'reactive' enhancement — the armor will magically harden at the point of impact. However it seemed rather unnecessary to fit you with a half-plate, especially since you said you are unused to wearing too much weight. It is not like you are going to wade into melee. The worst I expect you to face is the occasional arrow."

Kaede had seen Pascal's own half-plate armor yesterday when he had a sparring session with a sergeant. In the week since their arrival at Nordkreuz, she had noticed that the majority of Weichsel's troops wore such a suit of armor when they were on duty. It consisted of a plate cuirass, spaulders, gauntlets, greaves, and tassets. The gaps in-between were protected by chainmail patches sewn onto a black gambeson. The result had a higher degree of mobility and comfort than full plate while retaining most of its protective value. Most soldiers also wore a sallet helmet with its iconic visor, though kettle helmets were also common among the city's militia.

"Waist looks bit loose though," the burly, middle-aged armorsmith noted as he came over and knelt down behind Kaede. He unbuckled and tightened the strap until the two leather flaps squeezed around her midsection. "I need to punch another hole here."

He then helped Kaede take off the chestplate, before taking it to the back of the shop where he exited through a heavy, wooden door.

I wonder what 'industry' looks like on Hyperion? Kaede thought followed the armorer to the back. Her lips fell open as she looked through the open door, to the large backyard that the armorer seemed to share with several neighboring smiths.

A series of open sheds with covered walkways linking them filled much of this space. The largest shed in the middle had a stone roof, and was built around a massive, two-story stone furnace and smelter. The stone structure was roughly squarish in construction. The side facing her had a chute that was being used to dispense molten metal into a mold. Meanwhile both flanks had a series of alcoves, each lining up with a workspace that included a blacksmith anvil, a stone table, and a large trough filled with water.

"Is that… an arcane forge?" Kaede thought out loud.

She had seen it mentioned so many times in the books she read. It was said to be one of the centerpieces of Hyperion industry.

"Yes, Milady." The armorsmith answered as he returned from the forge with a tiny, metal peg that glowed red with heat. "This is one of the newer forges, built eight years ago through the late Landgrave's investment. Father bless his soul." He added as he fitted the metal piece to what appeared to be a heavy duty hole-puncher on a nearby table.

Kaede was still wondering what made it 'arcane' when she noticed that there were no fire pits. Instead, there was a large, flatly cut slab of reddish-brown stone in each alcove. The nearest slab that she could see had small, red flames rising from it, as though the very rock was burning at a low simmer. Meanwhile at an adjacent workspace, white-hot flames emerged from another slab of rock as a blacksmith quenched a freshly hammered arming sword in his water trough.

"If I remember correctly, arcane forges are basically a continuously running blast furnace?" Pascal asked plainly as he came to stand behind Kaede.

"Yes, Milord." The armorsmith explained in his gruff voice. "The interior of a forge must run at a temperature hot enough to smelt steel. It takes nearly half a day to activate or deactivate it, so it's far easier to simply leave it running. Iron slags and coal are fed into the furnace from the far side," he pointed to where several wagons sat beneath a set of stairs and a treadmill crane. "Meanwhile molten steel is poured out from the chute. The heat is also conducted and controlled through enchanted stone plates to be used by the smiths."

"I'm guessing it relies upon magic from the ley-lines to bolster the heat?" Kaede asked next.

"Both to keep the smelter burning and to provide a continuous flow of fresh air," the armorsmith said as he created a new hole through the waist strap and fed a grommet through it. "We feed in coal as needed to create the appropriate air mixture. But the quantity is nowhere enough to keep the smelter in the temperature it must maintain. The furnace's enchantments require one of us yeomen smiths to manipulate. But even a commoner smith could make use of it to forge steel tools, weapons, and armor."

Talk about fuel efficiency, Kaede thought as she considered just how much coal a magical industry could save, which in turn reduced the resource demands across its entire supply chain.

I guess the Hyperion civilization will be a lot less worried about its carbon footprint.

The armorer soon returned with Kaede's chestplate and fitted it again. This time the waist flaps wrapped snugly around her midsection when he buckled the strap.

The familiar repeated all of her stretches again. The leather flaps proved just tight enough to give her waist support without limiting her range of motion.

"Looks good," Pascal declared with satisfaction as he paid the armorsmith — a handful of gold and silver coins bearing the crest of Weichsel on one side and the royal coat-of-arms on the other. The depiction of an armored, lance-wielding knight riding atop a drake spoke volumes for the history of the Drachenlanzen dynasty. It reminded everyone that King Leopold's lineage could be traced all the way back to the Dragon-Demon Wars

Just like on Earth, Kaede reflected as she thought of how monarchs would use every tool at their disposal to remind the people of their royal legitimacy.

I'd love to see what all the countries will put on paper bills once they establish fiat currency. IF they establish fiat currency.

There was no doubt that magic made counterfeiting far more of a threat.





After Kaede and Pascal left the armorer's shop, they came across a squad of soldiers, who marched in two columns as they patrolled the streets. Kaede couldn't help but feel self-conscious and took off her helmet. A distinct feeling that it didn't belong on her head had overwhelmed her, as she felt like a child playing war before the eyes of professional soldiers.

"Are you sure the army is okay with me following you into combat?" She asked Pascal. "I know mages bringing their familiars is pretty common, but…" She trailed off as even she wasn't sure exactly what she should be classified as.

All she knew was that Weichsel had a fully professional army, and that meant no 'camp followers'. Instead, every company and battalion had an integrated support unit, responsible for managing the soldiers' logistical needs.

However, the real reason Kaede asked was because she still had reservations about serving as a member of the Weichsen military, or any military. Even highly disciplined modern armies could not escape the taint of war crimes, as American sanctions and threats against the UN International Criminal Court made their guilt in Afghanistan and Iraq all but obvious. The idea of an 'honorable war' had always been a myth created by romantic fantasies and belligerent propaganda. And that didn't even account for countries like Weichsel which had centuries of deep, cultural hatred against the Northmen who raided them.

The historian in her might recognize the necessity of war. But partaking in it was entirely something else.

Nevertheless, thanks to Pascal, Kaede was on the path to Weichsen citizenship. I should at least do my part to help Pascal defend the country, she thought.

"Considering even His Majesty liked you? I doubt anyone will have a problem with you coming along," Pascal declared in a proud tone, though his countenance wore a faint scowl which puzzled Kaede. "Nevertheless I did attain his permission just in case. As for your role, being 'eyes and ears' means I would like you to stay at a good vantage point near the front lines. It would give me better battlefield vision and save an adjutant for passing orders."

"So… pretend to be a walking pair of binoculars?" She remarked as the two of them walked in the direction of the setting sun, back towards the main street of Nordkreuz.

The irony was not lost on her as they had just picked up a pair of 'arcane binoculars' before coming to the armorer. Kaede only had a brief moment to try it out. Its magically-enchanted lenses had an impressive zoom of up to 25x, which was comparable to that of modern sporting binoculars.

"Learn to judge battlefield deployments yourself," Pascal added as a stern edge worked into his voice. "We have had plenty of tactical discussions during our research and you are certainly no novice."

No, just an amateur, she thought.

If there was one thing Kaede never overestimated, it was just how well her skills really compared against true professionals.

"Since you are good with a bow, I have also made you a few rune-tipped arrows, just in case you need them." Her master said as they strode past several wagons and shops. "I can also enchant First Aid into your ring and load whatever spells you need into your runes. However, I want your attention focused on the field as much as possible, not busying over concerns better left to others."

"Why First Aid?" She puzzled. Just because I'm a girl now doesn't mean I suddenly have medical training.

"Because only basic spells can be put onto a spell activation item. And because you can perform basic healing better than most mages, simply due to your nature," Pascal explained.

"For being Samaran? I did read that my blood was a healing enhancer."

"It does more than just enhance," he emphasized. "Remember what I said about mana's repulsion property?"

"That all mana repel foreign sources of mana? Yes." Kaede answered his impromptu quiz before she puzzled. "So that means magic has trouble… healing other mages?"

"Correct." Pascal nodded. "Healing commoners is easy. Healing mages, however, requires a special focus to compensate for their magic resistance. Samaran blood is never rejected in a transfusion. Likewise, healing spells — and only spells that cure or calm, for whatever reason — cast through Samaran blood gain a limited ability to bypass mana repulsion. The blood also loses potency as it is used more. So effectively, your entire body full of fresh blood is a healing focus of the highest quality."

Being called a top quality trade good wasn't exactly a very flattering comment. But then, Pascal merely stated the facts 'as is'.

At least he doesn't see me as a bag of gold.

"I do remember being 'medical supplies'. But I don't remember seeing Perceval carry vials of blood around."

"Samaran blood is not cheap. It is part of why I told you never to enter the city by yourself," Pascal stated with a completely serious expression. "But ask Perceval about his bloodquartz stasis rod the next time you see him…" He then trailed off with another scowl. "Actually, it may be easier to ask another healer. Who knows when we will see Perceval again?"

Kaede nodded. She hadn't heard from Reynaud or Perceval since the day they left Alisia Academy.

"Speaking of Perceval, Ariadne is in Nordkreuz now, isn't she?" The familiar asked.

"No, actually." Pascal replied with another scowl. "She joined one of the new Phantom Grenadier units which almost immediately left the city to raid in Skagen."

We really have gone our separate ways, huh? Kaede reminisced about the friends she made at the academy before the war broke all of them up. "Why do you sound unhappy about it though? I thought the two of you had already made up?"

"It has nothing to do with Ariadne." Her master sighed. "If anything, I am envious of her for being deployed into combat as a company commander. She is out there in the field, gaining valuable leadership and combat experience. Meanwhile I am stuck here in the city, with little to do other than paperwork and the occasional supervisory tour."

"Did the King not already assign you to be a brigade tactical officer?" Kaede asked.

"Yes, the tactical officer of an infantry brigade," Pascal scowled. "There is not a great deal of tactics to infantry, apart from facing the right direction and using the right formation to absorb the enemy's attacks. I would much rather command a company of Noble Reiters, sent into Skagen to support the cavalry."

Kaede remembered that Pascal had originally been offered such a position, before he turned it down to help Sylviane in Alis Avern instead. The Noble Reiters were conscripted nobility who fought as 'mobile artillery', as their equestrian and spellcasting abilities meant they could rapidly maneuver around the battlefield to lay down a devastating barrage of spells. Their magic also made them excellent logistics and support units. The combination of these roles meant they were usually sent to where the action was, both tactically and strategically.

"But alas, my return was late, and this was the best that the King could offer me." Pascal sighed again.

In other words, he lost his best chance at earning experience and promotions in this campaign. Kaede reflected on the opportunity cost Pascal paid to help his fiancée.

"At least this means you can stay up to date on the King's strategy discussions?" Kaede looked for a silver lining.

"Only because I am the lord of Nordkreuz, as well as the owner of the manor which they use as headquarters." Pascal countered. "The King is keeping me in the communication loop as a gesture of courtesy. However, since I am merely a captain, I have no actual role in operational planning. Therefore unlike the other members of the command staff, I do not have any of the responsibilities in organizing and coordinating the ongoing maneuvers of our forces against Skagen!"

His irritable tone made Kaede wonder just how much of Pascal's impatience for valor was because he grew up under his father's shadow.

He really wants a chance to prove himself.

The two of them soon made it back to the hustle and bustle around Nordkreuz's main street. The cobblestone avenue was built wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side. However, the merchants and customers that overflowed from both sidewalks slowed all passing vehicles to a crawl. Even those on horses advanced at a slow trot, as the innumerable stalls and shouting tradesmen left many pedestrians more than a bit distracted.

The street wasn't as busy as the New Year's when Kaede arrived. Nevertheless it was clear that business was booming, partly caused by the concentration of soldiers in Nordkreuz. Now that the dusk sky was beginning to dim, those who had leave after a day's hard training were coming into the city in droves. They gathered beneath the illumination of the street 'lanterns' — metal posts with enchanted, ley-line-attuned crystals affixed on top. Some were here to meet old comrades, some to grab a bite to eat, and some browsed wares that weren't available in their rural hometowns.

"Out'a way…"

Kaede heard the gruff voice just in time to evade. A large, overweight man who wore a cloth veil over his nose had just emerged from a door by the side street. His thick, hairy arms carried a massive, partially-covered wooden bucket that spread the most atrocious smell.

The familiar rushed her hand up to pinch her nose as she felt nausea churn her stomach. She turned to stare at the man and his oversized container, while he carried it to the ledge of the sidewalk before tilting the bucket towards what looked to be a stormwater drain.

The small, brown chunks that poured out with water were undeniably poop.

What the hell! He almost crashed into me with that! Kaede thought, appalled.

The bucket that man carried was wider than her shoulders. Its contents were more than enough to drench her entire body. The Samaran girl shivered as she realized that had such an accident occured, she could take a million baths yet still feel filthy.

Yet to Kaede's incredulousness, the man only poured out a surface layer of water before he put the rest of the bucket into a waiting cart. There he covered it with a lid, before grabbing another, empty bucket from the wagon and striding back into the door from where he came.

"W-w-why…?" The young girl stammered as she looked at the cart in bewilderment. She never even noticed as Pascal, who had walked ahead during the interim, had returned and now stood just five paces behind her.

"Ah, a night soil merchant. Your world does not have those?" Pascal asked from a safe distance before he turned towards the building. "This must be a public bath."

Kaede thought it was wise first to retreat to his position before opening her mouth again.

"Night soil? That's just manure!"

"Exactly," Pascal commented. "I believe they mix it with compost before selling it to farmers. It is rich in nitrogen which makes it excellent fertilizer."

Kaede blinked. Now that her shock at the near-accident was beginning to fade, she remembered that her grandmother, who farmed as a hobby in her retirement, did much the same thing. In fact it was quite common on Earth, especially before the industrial revolution when advanced chemistry allowed for synthetic fertilizers to be produced.

"Does Hyperion have non-poop fertilizers?"

"There used to be a Fertilize spell, but nobody uses that anymore due to its inefficiency," Pascal answered. "Covering large tracts of land with magic is simply too mana inefficient, a brute force solution. Instead, there are alchemists today who use Transmute spells to convert air and water into ammonium nitrate, which could be spread to fertilize the fields. It is still not cheap, and only wealthy cash crop farmers can consistently afford it."

Of course, since it's mage labor, Kaede thought.

The trouble with magic was that only mages could provide it, which led to a perpetual 'labor shortage'. Whereas on Earth, an industry using pure chemistry could be operated by anyone, regardless of whether or not they were born with innate special powers.

Even so, is there even an incentive to create non-magical technological processes?

After all, the people of Hyperion did have a solution for getting what they wanted, even if the supply availability was far lower. However this suited the mages — the most educated members of Hyperion society — just fine, as it maintained the high value of their labor and their wealth as the middle and upper class. Meanwhile commoners without magic had to perform occupations like shovel manure for a living.

"I'm guessing 'night soil' is a cheaper alternative then?"

"Significantly." Pascal confirmed Kaede's suspicions about the value of non-magical labor. "It may not work as well, but manure is easy to attain and compost can be made in large quantities."

The young lord then glanced at the building again before remembering:

"Did you not mention a 'need to go' before we left the armorer's? This is a public bathhouse, one of several that my father had constructed within the city to improve sanitation. You will find latrines inside. They should be in rooms adjacent to the entrance."

"I… think I'd rather wait," Kaede replied with reluctance. The pressure on her bladder was still mild and… I'm not sure I want to make use of 'public latrines'.

"We still have several more items that need to be picked up. It will be at least another hour before we return to the manor." Pascal warned.

"Fine," Kaede sighed. Unwilling to risk an accident, she waited until the 'night soil' merchant emerged again with yet another bucket before she went inside.

The entrance hallway was short and led to a large, open-roofed atrium within the building. It was surrounded by covered corridors with round columns holding up the roofs. There were lounge chairs scattered about, but none of them were occupied since it was winter outside. On the far side of the building she could spot steam coming out of the ceiling-high vents, as well as hear the sound of running water and the voices of people relaxing inside.

It really is like a Roman bathhouse, Kaede thought.

The open architectural design was clearly one that originated from a warmer climate. It would not surprise Kaede one bit if Weichsel imported the concept of these bathhouses from the Romans of this world — the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea. This meant that it was even possible that Weichsel inherited a culture of 'recreational bathing' similar to that of the Roman Empire.

I should ask Pascal if there's a bath in his home. Kaede thought as she rather missed the ability to take a soak in the Japanese style. It's been too long since I've had a proper bath and not just 'cleansing spells'.

On her side of the atrium, a door on each flank was marked by a stick-figure sign. Needless to say, the one that had a triangle skirt was the one that she was looking for.

Kaede took a deep breath as she grasped the door handle and pulled it open. The room didn't smell nearly as foul as she would have expected, as it had plenty of ventilation near the roof. However, as soon as she walked inside and saw the arrangements, she froze.

There were two rows of bench seats that faced each other, with a round hole cut into the wooden bench every meter of distance. Three women currently sat next to each other and chatted along as they did their business. There wasn't any privacy to speak of as there were no stalls, not even a divider between each latrine seat.

"<Is something wrong, Kaede?>" Pascal asked over their familiar bond as he must have sensed her surprise.

"<Th-there're no stalls!>" Kaede sent back as she continued to stand by the door. Her odd behavior had already attracted the womens' curious looks.

"<Why would there be stalls inside a public latrine?>" Pascal replied in a confused voice. "<It is not a stable for horses.>"

"<I don't know… maybe some privacy!?>" Kaede retorted in disbelief.

"<Are the latrine rooms not separated by gender?>"

"<They are, but that's not the point!>" Kaede was baffled by the fact she had to explain something so simple. "<What about privacy from other girls? Or other men in your case?>"

"<Why would that be necessary?>" Pascal's voice was still bewildered. "<Are public latrines not a social place in your world?>"

"<What!? NO!>" Kaede was aghast. "<Why would it be?>"

"<It would be boring if all you had to do was stare at a wall while you did your business. Might as well catch up with the neighbors while you are at it.>" Pascal replied with a mental shrug. "<As far as I know, girls usually visit the latrines in groups too.>"

Kaede did remember noticing that trend even in the modern world. But Hyperion was clearly taking it to an extreme!

"<Also hurry up. I do not enjoy waiting near a manure wagon.>"

"<Ugh, fine…>"

Kaede forced herself to walk to the far side of the room where she found a spot near the corner. The wooden bench was surprisingly clean, probably aided by the fact this was a 'female only' bathroom which didn't have to worry about men and their randomly aimed pee. She lifted her skirt and unbuttoned the soft, clingy fabrics between her legs from behind.

For once I'm thankful for wearing a skirt. She thought as she sat down on the latrine hole, while the fabric of her skirt completely covered her feminine bits. This would not have been an option if she was still wearing pants.

"What's her problem?" Kaede's keen ears heard one of the women whisper to her companions.

"Look at her clothes. Must be some rich merchant's daughter trying out for the militia. Thinks she's too good for us."

"She's a Samaran though. I don't know of any Samarans who are residents of this city?"

Clearly, the way she purposefully kept her distance was a social affront. Kaede sighed as she wasn't sure it was worth trying to correct their first impression of her at this point.

"<Out of curiosity,>" Kaede asked as she noticed that this 'public bathroom' was distinctively lacking in a vital resource. "<What do I use here to wipe? There's no paper.>"

"<Pulp paper is too expensive for public latrines. You should see a few buckets near the wall.>" Pascal noted.

Sure enough, Kaede noticed the wooden buckets. Each had several handles sticking out from them, as though they were cooking instruments being soaked.

"<Those buckets are filled with vinegar.>" Pascal added. "<The sticks have sponges affixed to the end. You use them to wipe your rear after you finish.>"

In other words, people shared sponges to wipe their butt after defecation.

Kaede would rather ask Pascal to cast his Cleanse spell on her butt than to use a stick that might have someone else's feces on them.

I'm never going anywhere without toilet paper again! She silently swore to herself.





The other women were still chatting when Kaede finished peeing and left. She met back up with Pascal outside and the two of them continued their errand trip.

"What's next?" Kaede asked eagerly.

"Next we go to the clothiers and pick up a black mourning dress for you." Pascal replied rather stiffly.

Kaede fell quiet at once. No wonder why Pascal has been moody today.

"Your father's?"

"Yes. His state funeral is tomorrow." Pascal's reply in a melancholic tone. "And of course, you will be attending besides me, Sylv, and the King. Therefore I expect you to look your best."



—– * * * —–



Just as Pascal had warned, Kaede stood the next day as part of the congregation that waited outside Nordkreuz's cathedral. The group had over three dozen individuals, who stood evenly spaced in two rows at the top of the stone stairs. They included not just King Leopold, Princess Sylviane, and the generals who served directly under the late Marshal, but also his majordomo, his chaplain, and several members of his personal staff who avoided the ambush that took his life.

What quickly became obvious was that the Marshal did not seem to have any personal friends outside of his work, as every attendee was either a member of his household or a state official. Nor was there anyone from the estranged family from Pascal's mother's side.

The group watched as a long column of soldiers marched down Nordkreuz's main street. They were led by Colonel Albrecht von Bittenfeld and his elite Black Lancers Knights Phantom atop their armored gryphon mounts. A wagon carrying the embalmed body of the late Marshal came next, wrapped in the black dragon banner of Weichsel and adorned with white flowers. The wagon was followed by the rest of the Black Lancers as well as several squads of the King's Black Eagles who acted as the honor guard.

The entire city fell under a solemn atmosphere as soldiers from the army stood shoulder to shoulder across both sides of the main street. The sidewalks were packed as it seemed like the entire populace of Nordkreuz had gathered to pay their respects. Entire formations of officers also stood in the plaza in front of the cathedral. Kaede estimated that the number of people in attendance numbered over ten thousand.

The familiar glanced towards her master, who stood between the King and the Princess, roughly a dozen paces away from her. Pascal did his best to maintain a steadfast countenance, but his eyes were glistening with a sentimental longing as they stayed fixated on his late father's casket.

"<Your father really meant a great deal to many people.>" Kaede reflected over their familiar bond as she sought to comfort him.

"<He was a hero of Weichsel, the most accomplished marshal since Hermann von Mittermeyer.>" Pascal's voice responded stiffly.

Not just a hero either, Kaede thought back to the arcane forge and the public bathhouses that the Marshal all had a hand in erecting. It was clear that despite being a newly-minted, first generation aristocrat with no hereditary wealth, the Marshal prioritized the development of his people and fief.

"<I wish I could have met him.>"

"<He would have liked you too.>" Pascal stated with certainty.

Kaede watched as eight members of the Knights Phantom dismounted to pull the marshal's casket from the wagon. They lifted it upon their shoulders before carrying the mahogany funeral box up the short stairs and through the cathedral's double doors. The congregation followed the knights in, while behind them came several hundred military officers and other attendees.

The marshal's casket was placed before the altar while Kaede filed into the space before a second row bench. Her eyes remained glued to Pascal who stood stiffly in the first row besides Princess Sylviane and other dignitaries. They waited for the next twenty minutes as the available space in the modest cathedral — which had clearly been built when Nordkreuz was smaller and less important — was filled to capacity.

Then, as the last of the milling footsteps behind them fell silent, the clergy of Nordkreuz stepped forth and began their religious service.

"Faithful men and women of Weichsel, we gather here today to pay homage…"

The Bishop of Nordkreuz blessed the Marshal's soul and spoke of how Karl August von Moltewitz carried out the Holy Father's will in defense of the Trinitian realm. He praised how the late landgrave lived a life of modesty, ever loyal to the King while displaying charity and generosity towards the city's residents…

It was a sermon largely spoken in Imperial, a hybrid language which had once been created by the Inner Sea Imperium to administer their northern provinces and vassal states. Today, even though Weichsel no longer saw the Holy Imperium as its suzerain, it kept Imperial as its official language which made it Pascal's mother tongue — and Kaede could perfectly understand it thanks to their familiar bond.

Parts of the sermon, however, remained difficult for Kaede to digest, as the bishop quoted directly from the Holy Scriptures. The religious texts of the Trinitian Church were written strictly in ancient Draconic, the same language that Pascal memorized his mnemonic spellwords in. However, while Pascal knew many words in Draconic, he was hardly 'fluent'. The result was a smattering of comprehension in between a string of gibberish that made Kaede only able to guess at the true meaning.

In hindsight, it wasn't really surprising for the Church to use the language of the dragonlords. After all, the services were conducted beneath the Cross of Holy Hyperion — a sculpture of the dragonlord in the midst of casting 'the spell that saved the world'.

It's like seeing a Catholic Church that worshipped aliens, the familiar couldn't help reflect on how otherworldly the whole experience felt.

For tens of minutes the sermon continued. It also reminded Kaede why she never enjoyed church services: there's just too much moralistic preaching.

She might have always been a spiritualist who took great interest in the moral virtues taught by religion. But that didn't mean that she enjoyed being preached to — especially when those same sermons often felt detached from reality, from the moral dilemmas that real people in real stories had to face.

So instead of focusing her attention on the bishop's words, Kaede kept the edge of her gaze trained on Pascal's side and back. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he stood stiff as a board. His fingers reached up on several occasions as he pretended to scratch his head before touching the corner of his eye to wipe a tear from it.

Her master was clearly in mourning, just as he had been that night on top of the dormitory keep. However this time he could not display it openly. He had no choice but to suppress and stifle his grief before hundreds of attendees.

It took well over a half hour before the sermon finished. By the time the bishop stepped off the altar, he beckoned Pascal to come forth. The young landgrave strode up to the podium, where he would offer a final eulogy.

For a minute Pascal stood silent behind the altar with parchment in hand. He opened and closed his lips several times but no words came out. Tears brimmed in his glistening eyes as he looked upon the casket with a nostalgic longing that he clearly had trouble turning into words. Then, with a stiff voice that almost cracked under the weight of his emotions, he began to speak out in a magically amplified voice:

"Most of you knew my father as the Marshal of Weichsel. He was courageous in battle, inspiring in command, visionary in strategy, and considerate as a leader. But I knew that many of you also thought my father seemed devoid of a personal life. After all, he had lost his wife before becoming the Landgrave of Nordkreuz yet never remarried. He dined with his staff regularly yet never seemed to meet any friends outside of work. He had a son at home — a brat spoiled by servants and a lack of parental supervision," Pascal spoke of himself which elicited a wave of chuckling from the crowd. "Yet he spent most of his days in the King's Black Dragon Castle and the capital Königsfeld's army base, rarely returning to his home to celebrate with his small family.

"Well, I am here today to tell you that you could not be more wrong…" Pascal stated before his voice cracked again.

He paused for another moment as his shoulders trembled faintly. He had to take a deep breath to regain his composure before continuing on.

"My father was many things to me — an inspiring role model, a wise teacher, a set of expectations that I constantly strove for yet never seemed to quite match. But he was first and foremost a loving parent, whose messages for me would arrive like clockwork no matter how busy or how tired or how frustrated he became. There was never a week when he did not stay up to date with my activities, or comment on my studies. He might have been away from me by several hundred kilopaces, but his spirit has always remained with me.

"However, as I stand before you here today, I realize the true significance of my father's life." The young lord voiced. "He was not just a father to me, but a father to an entire generation of soldiers and officers whom he led in the King's name. And they, like me, have learned to appreciate his deeds."

Pascal took another break as he blinked repeatedly to clear his gaze. His turquoise eyes were glistening yet he struggled to pretend that wasn't the case. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before reopening them. His brows furrowed as he continued his prepared speech as though everything was fine with him:

"My father may be gone now, but his legacy from a lifetime of dedicated service remains. Under his tutelage, countless young officers have stepped into the shoes of those who came before them, ready to protect our realm and serve the interests of our King. Under his patronage, many brilliant cadets arose from struggling families, who would have otherwise lacked the circumstances to send their children to proper schooling. Under his guidance, the army has refined its organization and doctrine to score dozens of victories, proving our mettle even as our kingdom is caught between the geopolitical ambitions of giants. Under his vision, Weichsel has almost doubled its size over the past two decades, with new allies to support us so we no longer must bend knees to appease the decadent Imperator on his distant throne."

"Thus I ask you to remember my father, not merely as the workaholic marshal who never seemed to go home, but as a diligent father to his men and a faithful servant of his King. Remember him for his accomplishments, his policies, and his legacy which remains. For…"

Pascal's voice cracked again but he did not relent this time. His fists clenched hard as he steeled his resolve to keep going.

"–For as long as his vision lives on with us, his spirit will endure and always remain with us — to guide, to inspire, to watch over us and the future of our state."

I didn't think Pascal could write something so touching, Kaede smiled earnestly as she watched him take another deep breath. His shoulders relaxed a little at last as he seemed finished, not just with the speech, but also with a part of his grief.

"<That was well done,>" she said over their private telepathy. "<It was a beautiful speech.>"

"<Thank you.>" He replied simply. "<Though I am not finished yet.>"

It wasn't until later that Kaede found out that Pascal had asked the Princess for help in writing it. Or that he had also run the draft past King Leopold at Sylviane's recommendation, to ensure that the monarch would not see it as trying to impose foreign policy by using his father's legacy.

"As a final tribute," the young lord continued after a prolonged pause. "I would like to thank His Majesty the King for approving and funding the last proposal that my father drafted on behalf of Weichsel. I am glad to announce that the Mittermeyer and Moltewitz Boarding School will begin construction in Königsfeld next spring. Once completed, this institution will admit up to 200 bright and talented adolescents of ages 8 to 12 each year, and offer them up to 6 years of education with free boarding, food, and tuition. Admissions will be based strictly on examination, and graduates will be given a position in Weichsel's government, army, or a scholarship to continue their studies at the Königsfeld Academy of Magic."

Kaede immediately recognized the proposal as one that she and Gerard helped Pascal draft back at the Alisia Academy. They had agreed that while Weichsel could not afford universal public education, they could at least begin establishing free schooling for those with potential. The idea was to begin with one school and scale up as the program accumulated experience and results.

She could also hear the quiet murmuring of the crowd behind her. Many voices were in clear approval, though many others also cast their doubts. It was probably one of the reasons why Pascal decided to announce it under his father's name, rather than take personal credit for the idea. However, the other reason was purely one of sentimentality…

It's quite a fitting tribute, she thought approvingly. To have his father remembered as not just a hero of battlefield valor, but also one for fostering the next generation.

"It is my father's final wish that just like Marshal Mittemeyer and himself, the commoners and yeomen of Weichsel may receive the opportunity to prove and elevate themselves in the service of our country and our king!" Pascal declared, which prompted Kaede to smile again.

With his eulogy finished, the new landgrave's eyes scanned across the audience before falling back upon his father's casket and the black dragon banner that wrapped around it.

"Hail the Black Dragon!" Pascal shouted as he snapped his boots together, stood perfectly straight, and raised his hand to his head in a military salute.

The gesture was followed by dozens, hundreds, everyone gathered not just inside, but also outside the cathedral's gates.

"Hail!"
 
Volume 2 Chapter 13.5 Interlude – Chaos Rising
Volume 2 Chapter 13.5 Interlude – Chaos Rising

Colonel Lindsay de Martel watched silently from her post as Geoffroi Jean de Gaetane, the Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie, silently circled the massive map projection table.

The war room of the Oriflamme Palace was empty, except for the Emperor and a squad of royal armigers from the Highland Guard. The elite knights were all well-practiced in the art of being seen but not heard. Only Geoffroi's heavy footsteps resounded across the spacious room as he paced around the table display.

The Emperor was clearly in a pensive mood today. And Lindsay couldn't blame him as news from the frontlines had been mixed over the past week.

On the Inner Sea front, the Cataliyan army withdrew behind the Ròse River after Marshal Cosette destroyed their support fleet. This brought a much needed if temporary reprieve to the Army of Garona. And thanks to Pascal's quick work in logistics, the first supply convoy was already well on its way to the front. By the time the Cataliyans advanced again, the Kingdom of Garona's capital of Narbonnaise should be provisioned and reinforced — its fortifications ready for a protracted siege.

In the center, the sworn 'Trio' –Gervais, Laurent, and Edgard– had stopped the Tauheed forces in the second line fortresses guarding the South Lotharingie Mountain passes. Weeks of nonstop fighting along narrow, treacherous mountain roads had left both sides exhausted. However, now that snow has arrived and the mountain passes were beginning to close, the chances of a Cataliyan breakthrough before next Spring was dropping to nil. That should give the 'Trio' plenty of time to reorganize and replenish losses.

It was the situation in the west that the Emperor remained worried over.

Edith's defeat in last week's battle had proven to be less severe than they first thought. Another fifth of the army had trickled back in since their loss, bringing their numbers up to nearly seventy percent of their original strength. The lady-knight whom the troops affectionately dubbed Estelle the Polar Cross might not have a great sense of strategy, but her ability to inspire was second to none. Most armies began to disintegrate after a major defeat, yet Edith managed to keep morale up to the point that many stragglers regrouped and rejoined rather than desert.

However, the loss of King-Consort Armel also proved more serious than expected. The death of her beloved husband hit Queen Katell of Avorica particularly hard. The pregnant queen had holed up in her room since then, declining to see anyone except her maid and refusing to do anything except eat and sleep.

With one royal dead and the other incapacitated by grief, the Kingdom of Avorica was paralyzed at a moment when leadership was needed most. It didn't help that several prominent nobles had also been killed in the previous battle, including three members of the privy council. Combined with losses from other skirmishes, this left the council lacking the authority to govern in the absence of their queen — which meant Edith could not expect any further mustering of reinforcements from Avorica.

Then, perhaps worst of all, Geoffroi's spies in the Kingdom of Ceredigion reported that the combination of Edith's loss and Avorica's paralysis only further convinced King Elisedd to stay out of the conflict. This meant that two of the four subsidiary kingdoms under the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie had already been rendered useless to the war effort. Meanwhile the northern Kingdom of Gleann Mòr still couldn't mobilize due to the onset of winter, and would stay that way until late next spring.

Determined to prevent a catastrophe, Emperor Geoffroi had stripped the capital and its surrounding territories of every soldier that could be spared. Even the palace guards had been reduced to a measly hundred. Everyone else had been sent off to the Avorican front, along with most of the remaining food in the local granaries.

Lindsay was the only high-ranking commander who remained behind. She was now responsible for protecting both the palace and the city with just a hundred men-at-arms and the city's militia. They were spread so thin that it would be laughably easy for assassins to sneak past, especially Imperial assassins: the renowned Mantis Blades, who recently added the Marshal of Weichsel to their long list of victims.

This was why she stood in this war room at the very moment. Lindsay had been following the Emperor every hour of every day since she had been left in charge, even sleeping against his bedroom door.

Actually, that only happened once.

Geoffroi had angrily told her that since she insisted upon being there, she could either sleep in one of the adjacent royal family bedrooms or he would drag her into his own.

His blue-violet gaze had been completely serious too.

Lindsay certainly did not forfeit her duty just because of a threat from her sovereign. Royal Armigers were not chosen for a lack of personal integrity. But even rumors of having an affair with the Emperor would surely destroy her reputation and career. Perhaps even worse, it would ruin her relationship with Crown Princess Sylviane — her pupil in the martial arts whom she had come to see as almost a younger sister.

That left her with only one choice.

The nearest bedroom belonged to Geoffroi's deceased wife, who died ten years ago yet her personal effects were still perfectly maintained. With no intention to intrude upon such a sanctuary, Lindsay borrowed the next room instead, which belonged to the Princess.

Sylviane would just have to forgive her in these unusual times.

I wonder how Her Highness is doing in Nordkreuz…

Lindsay's attention soon snapped back to present as Joyeuse – the cerulean phoenix perched on Geoffroi's shoulder – stretched out her wings and squawked a sharp warning.

"Blaze Ignition."

Without hesitation, the Emperor called upon his phoenix before activating the arming pendant he wore over his heraldic surcoat. A cascade of brilliant-blue mana poured out of the pendant's sapphire centerpiece and engulfed his body. Within three seconds, the mana that wrapped around his body condensed into smooth, hardened surfaces, before evaporating into the air to reveal a perfectly-fitting suit of full-plate armor that covered his muscular bulk.

The phoenix Joyeuse was also no longer in sight. Instead, the white-blue embers that drifted off the Emperor gave clear evidence to their unison.

Meanwhile Lindsay, like every other armiger in the room, already wore her armor. She merely stretched out her right hand, activated her extra-dimensional storage glove, and felt the sturdy chains of a heavy meteor hammer erupt into her fingers.

"Wards!" She ordered as they weaved one defensive spell after another upon themselves.

Lindsay strode forth in her armored boots, but had yet to reach the entrance when the heavy mahogany doors crashed open. They revealed a frantic armiger in bloodstained plate mail clutching his wounded neck.

"We're under—"

That was all he managed to croak out before another man in white full-plate rushed up from behind and rammed a longsword through the chink beneath his cuirass.

Silence Field, Lindsay instantly recognized the signs. There was no other way a man could dash forth in heavy plate without making a single sound, even though she stood no more than five meters away.

"Negation Surge."

Before the assailant could even finish pulling out his sword, a studded sphere of metal smashed into his white helmet. The antimagic spell discharged and tore a hole through the crusader's defensive wards before the helmet was pulverized against the door. With his skull crushed, the swordsman collapsed to the floor alongside the Lotharin armiger he had just killed.

Lindsay retrieved the mace-like head of her meteor hammer with yank on its chain. For a moment she continued to stare at the corpse, alarmed yet puzzled. The intruder wasn't dressed like a Mantis Blade by any means. In fact, he wore white plate armor with gold stripes.

…A Knight Templar.

Her eyes sprang wide with dismay as apprehension struck. Templars did not infiltrate castles to assassinate. They were a battlefield force who crushed their enemies wholesale.

They were also the paramilitary branch of the Papal Inquisition, whose greatest current foe just happened to be the excommunicated Emperor standing behind her.

How many of them are within the Palace already? And just how did they get inside?

Lindsay's first question was answered within the minute as a chorus of clanking steel emerged from just down the hall.

There was no longer any purpose for the enemy to hide their numbers.

Their surprise had been total and complete.

The next templar through those doors blocked her flying meteor with a CLANG from his heater shield. But instead of charging straight at her, he fanned off to one side, followed by seven other shielded knights to form a 'V' just inside the door.

With their beachhead established, dozens more poured through. They spread out towards both flanks, threatening to envelope the defenders in the center of the room. Yet despite their absolute advantage in numbers, despite losing yet another head to Lindsay's meteor hammer, not a single one charged forth to attack.

What are they waiting for?

Pressured by their numbers, Lindsay fell three steps back to the defensive chevron her royal armigers had formed.

It was a desperate gesture of resistance. They were twelve against dozens, with what sounded like hundreds more just waiting outside. These were no lowly soldiers either. Every one of them wore plate mail of the highest quality, affordable to only a proper knight-brother of the Templar Order.

How did they…

Lindsay had yet to finish her thought before a familiar figure stepped through.

"Gabriel," Geoffroi's stiff voice rang out from behind her. "You traitorous bastard."

The lean and handsome prince stopped between the two V-wings of templars. His armor was pristine. His white clothes were impeccable. His plum-black hair and blue-violet eyes made him look every bit like the Emperor's younger brother. Except Gabriel was actually the older of the two, who had been passed over for Geoffroi due to his failure to summon a phoenix.

The traitorous duke wore a sad yet beautiful smile, as though nostalgic over the sight of an old friend. His cuirass displayed the same Gaetane heraldry as Geoffroi's own. However his hands did not hold a mace or some other crushing weapon – as would be expected of most noblemen from central Rhin-Lotharingie – but a sleek arming sword of the Church. Countless tiny, floating crucifixes of glowing gold surrounded him in a sphere of brilliant light, marking his new status as a champion of the faith.

So much for your 'reinforcements', Lindsay thought bitterly.

With most of Rhin-Lotharingie's intelligence efforts directed south, Gabriel could have easily hid the templars within his army as 'mercenaries'. They were marching south to join the front lines, and took the riverside road that passed Lake Alise. Lindsay wasn't exactly sure how Gabriel brought hundreds of men across the lake unnoticed. But with the Capital's garrison so understaffed, even a single bribed sentry could open a doorway of opportunity.

This was especially true when the Pope had swayed countless devotees against His Majesty.

Once those templars were on the island, there was no stopping them. The royal prince who led them did not just grow up here. He had once accompanied the adventurous young Geoffroi in all sorts of mischief. The two of them knew every nook, cranny, and secret passageway coming in and out of the palace grounds.

"Mother had always favored you," Gabriel said with a wistful smile. "So please do not be so unkind towards her heavenly soul."

"No, you were adopted," Geoffroi declared straight. "Our parents simply never had the heart to kick you back out."

Really?

Lindsay blinked in surprise before taking Geoffroi's words into consideration. For a moment she had believed his statement for real.

"Save your bad jokes, Geoffroi. I am here to request your surrender and abdication."

"Which Emperor has ever surrendered to a pretender and failure?" Geoffroi retorted with scathing words as he deployed his heavy weapon from extradimensional storage and slammed its butt onto the stone floor.

The Emperor's custom goedendag was a steel-shafted polearm built like a halberd. It had a studded cylindrical mace beneath the long spike. Attached to the mace's side was a crescent blade, jutting out like a pair of bull's horns.

"Which Emperor has ever been excommunicated by his head of faith?" The brother rebutted, all traces of his smile vanishing behind a stern and sorrowful gaze. "You have already broken the law of kings. Had you not turned your back on the Holy Father who entrusted you with this realm, I would have no need to demand your crown."

Yet despite facing such accusations, the Emperor began to chuckle. It soon grew to a deep, derisive laugh that revealed his incredulity and contempt for the irony of the situation:

"So that gold-draped puppet, His Holiness, decided that you were a better alternative? You, who failed the phoenix's test three times!? You, who fled from your duties as a prince of the realm decades ago, to bath in idolatry after retiring to an insignificant land!? You, whose hermaphroditic character contained neither the steadfast decisiveness of men nor the sensible judgment of women? Ha!"

Emperor Geoffroi barked another laugh as he gently pushed Lindsay aside and stepped in front of his guards. White-blue flames radiated from his muscular body and splashed against the glowing shields of the templars, forcing them to cautiously take a step back.

"You were never fit to rule, Gabriel, and I can tell you why." Geoffroi continued. "Because the phoenixes knew, just as I did, that you are a cynical, faithless sinner. A homosexual, impregnated by the Devil's lust and devoid of the Holy Father's grace. Yet the Church would pick you for a champion? Just whom is it that the den of corruption represents now!?"

A few of the Knights Templar turned their armet helmets, glancing towards their leader in question and doubt. However most of them never even hesitated.

Neither did Duke Gabriel.

"Has your conscience deserted you to madness, Geoffroi?" The pretender softly asked through a mask of pity. "Does my long and loving marriage not speak for itself? Or are you so corrupted that you hear naught but the Devil's slander? Arrogant enough to believe yourself superior in judgment to all the lords who stand with me, even the representative of the Holy Father himself?"

"What lords," Lindsay spat out in anger. "Those not hoodwinked by your lies are clearly all traitors like yourself!"

"A true patriot does not side blindly with tyrants, Milady," Gabriel's eyes softened as they shifted onto her. "I have no wish to antagonize House Mackay-Martel. I respect your devotion, but it is wasted on such an apostate. Please stand aside. I personally guarantee you and your knights an honorable surrender and safe return to your lands."

"The Guard dies! It does not surrender! Certainly not to vermin like you!" she declared as her right hand continued to twirl the mace-like head of her heavy meteor hammer.

"As you wish," Gabriel replied back with a slight bow before issuing his order:

"Send them all to Purgatory."

"To Hell with you first!" Geoffroi cried out as he raised his goedendag off the ground. "Flamebreak!"

A corona of white-blue fire burst forth from the Emperor's armored body, expanding outwards to engulf row after row of crusader knights. Inside the nimbus of a maximum-power eruption of Joyeuse's cleansing flames, the mana fueling the templars' wards combusted and dissolved in the fire. Although their pristine armor remained untarnished, the horrid screaming of dozens divulged the truth beneath. Their bodies had been immolated across every centipace of skin, and every one of them was overwhelmed by pain as they were roasted alive.

Meanwhile, not a single one of Geoffroi's own armigers showed any sign of injury.

Seizing the moment, the Emperor dashed forward and smashed his mighty polearm into the traitorous duke. But instead of crushing the thin-shouldered man like tomatoes under a hammer, Geoffroi's weapon struck one of the floating crucifixes and was brought to a sudden halt.

The tiny little cross hardly budged by a finger's width, just as a sphere of them had easily repelled the phoenix's flames.

How…?

Lindsay doubted her eyes even as she sprang into action. The Emperor's flames might have destroyed the templar vanguard, but an unending stream of armored knights now poured in through those open gates. Two other sections of wall also turned to dust under Disintegrate spells, further opening the room to assault.

It was now up to her and the other armigers to protect His Majesty's flanks, for as long as they could.

Oriflamme Paladins were unparalleled warriors on the battlefield. But just as all other beings, they had a critical shortcoming: the flames of their bonded phoenix were not inexhaustible. The Flamebreak spell which unleashed all of a phoenix's reserves was meant to be a Paladin's final trump card, as it often took a week for their familiar to recharge after such an exhaustive discharge. Geoffroi had clearly gambled on a quick decapitation of the coup's leader.

Unfortunately the traitor Gabriel was also aware of this, as he too had been raised as a Prince of the Empire. There was no doubt he came prepared, including the secret weapon that he had just displayed.

"The Sword of Fortitude, quite worthy of its name," Gabriel announced as though bragging while he tossed the arming sword into his left hand. "So long as both me and my men are determined to achieve justice, neither steel nor spell may touch my hallowed being."

It was an artifact of Conceptual Magic — a relic of the dragonlords' highest sorcery.

"Then I just have to slaughter your men until they break!"

The Emperor shouted as he swung his weapon with magically-enhanced strength, smashing two fully-armored knights into a nearby wall before parrying Gabriel's sloppy thrust with his polearm shaft.

"Before the Defender of the Faith and the will of the Holy Father, these templars face no death, only salvation," Duke Gabriel stated as his right hand reached back to pull out a spiked mace from his belt.

"How many times can you keep swinging that thing, Geoffroi? Because it won't be enough."



—– * * * —–



Cecylia von Falkenhausen peeked out from the shadows of a small bridge near the city's edge. Night had just fallen which meant the new, city-wide curfew has gone into effect. Her scarlet-red eyes glowed with a glimmer of magic as they scanned the surroundings. Yet even with Thermal Sight active on top of her vampiric night vision, she still couldn't spot a single individual in the immediate area.

She could see more from her familiar bond through the nine bodies of Ania, her matryoshka cat. There was a squad of patrolling guards on the next street and a few local residents who looked out from the windows of their residences. Nevertheless, she couldn't see a single person who might be the one she was waiting for.

"<Sir, are you sure this bridge is the right place?>" She asked over telepathy.

"<Yes.>" The reply came from Gerhard August von Gneisenau, Weichsel's ambassador to the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie. His physical figure was nowhere to be seen, as he was still back inside the Oriflamme Palace's embassy wing.

Since Duke Gabriel's forces arrived in the city at midday, they had overtaken the garrison and placed the entire capital under martial law. Cecylia wasn't sure exactly what had happened inside the palace, but she had confirmation from the ambassador that the coup had succeeded and the Emperor had been killed.

To the best of their knowledge, the Emperor's Highland Guard fought and died rather than surrender. However at least one of them had survived the coup, and had contacted the ambassador earlier to arrange this meeting.

"<This Elspeth, do you know her?>"

"<No.>" Gerhard answered. "<But I know she's the younger sister of Lindsay de Martel, Colonel of the Highland Guard and arms instructor to the Princess. And I did run mana verification on the Farspeak spell when she contacted me. I think we can trust her to not be playing a trick for the usurper.>"

"<I agree, Sir,>" Cecylia noted. "<But should we be sticking our hand into this messy business?>"

"<Aren't you friends with the Princess?>" Gerhard's response came with a hint of surprise. "<You should know that Elspeth asked for you specifically.>"

"<Sylviane is my friend. But I am a Black Eagle of Weichsel. My duties are to our King and our country first,>" Cecylia declared. "<If Rhin-Lotharingie does indeed have a new ruler, would it not be imprudent for us to begin on his bad side by plotting behind his back?>"

What the young girl didn't mention was that the dhampir of Falken clans –Falkenhausen, Falkenberg, and Falkenrath– have a unique relationship with the Drachenlanzen dynasty that ruled Weichsel.

Like all other dhampirs, the three clans once wandered the continent on the receiving end of every form of racism, due to being descendants of the historic vampires who were corrupted by demons during the Dragon-Demon Wars. However in return for their services during the founding of Weichsel, the first king Ferdinand von Drachenlanzen accepted them into Weichsel as part of its aristocratic elite. In return, the Falken clans had sworn a blood oath — to serve the successors of the Drachenlanzen dynasty above all other political interests.

…Though this last detail was a state secret, known only by the Kings of Weichsel and the dhampirs themselves.

"<Duke Gabriel does not meet the qualifications to become Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie, even if he is of Gaetane blood.>" Gerhard's derisive voice pulled Cecylia back to the present conversation. "<The Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie must be, above all, an Oriflamme Paladin. The founding Emperor, Charles the Bold, once said that it was more important that the ruler of the Lotharins be of noble character, approved by the phoenixes, than be of his blood.>"

"<That story is indeed well known, Sir.>" Cecylia nodded while she kept her eyes on the surroundings. "<But unfortunately neither Charles nor his successors ever wrote it into the Empire's laws. It has no legal binding.>"

"<It may not be a tradition de jure, but it is certainly one de facto.>" Gerhard insisted. "<The Burning Throne is famous across Hyperion, and the ascension of Emperor Geoffroi over his older brother had already provided the precedence. Gabriel's seizure of the throne will undoubtedly mark the start of a civil war, especially since he relied upon Imperial crusaders for his coup, whom most Lotharins – particularly those in the south – absolutely despise. If Weichsel is to maintain and benefit from this alliance in the decades ahead, it would be best if we help support a more legitimate candidate than a failed prince.>"

We? Cecylia thought with a smile. The ambassador had been careful to word it in terms of national interest. But she also knew that deep down, Gerhard was rather fond of Geoffroi and Princess Sylviane, whom he dined with regularly and could consider his personal friends.

"<So you'd like to place our bets on Princess Sylviane?>" she queried next. She already knew the answer, of course. But she still wanted to know how he'd reason it.

"<She is the groomed successor, not to mention betrothed to our new Landgrave of Nordkreuz.>" Gerhard noted. "<Furthermore, she also has a close friendship with King Alistair of Gleann Mòr, who wields one of the strongest military forces within the Empire. If she could attain both the military support of our King and King Alistair, then she has a good chance at retaking the throne, even if she does begin in a position of weakness.>"

"<That's a big IF.>" Cecylia frowned.

One of the most important lessons her father had ever given her, was that it was unwise to try to predict the whims of Kings. No, it was better, not to mention politically safer, to carry out established policies and directives.

But what about now, when recent events have left those policies adrift? Cecylia pondered to herself.

She had already sent a Farspeak message home to the King's spymaster, Colonel Hannes von Falkenberg of the Black Eagles. However, the Colonel seemed distracted when he received her report — something big must be happening back in Weichsel as well. And until new instructions arrived, she was left on her own judgment.

"<You sound as though you don't want to see Weichsel support Princess Sylviane?>" Ambassador Gerhard asked in a skeptical tone.

It reminded Cecylia why the retired general had been chosen for this position. After all, he might technically be her superior here in Alis Avern, but she had read his file. Gerhard von Gneisenau was a career military officer known for his honesty, candidness, and dependability. In other words, he was perfect for developing trust between two established allies, but far from the best for more subtle political intrigue.

"<Not at all, Sir.>" Cecylia replied with a shrewd, inward smile. "<Of course I'd like to see the continued alliance between Weichsel and Rhin-Lotharingie. However, it would not do the Princess any favors for me to simply agree with you, Sir. It would be far better for me to play devil's advocate to help sharpen your analytical argument,>" Cecylia highlighted. "<After all, His Majesty will certainly be asking all the hard questions when he eventually entreats your advice. And…>"

Cecylia instantly snipped off her train of thought as her eyes noticed movement nearby. She couldn't make out any details in appearance, but the figure's outline was undeniably small and feminine. That matched what she had been told about this Elspeth individual. Furthermore, the petite, shadowy figure moved with a slight limp, which was a sign that the girl had been injured.

Without the need of magical assistance, Cecylia opened her lips to perfectly mimic the soft meow of a small kitten. It was the agreed upon signal for their meeting.

A meek, badly done meow came in response. The other side was clearly not used to cloak-and-dagger business.

Then, as a petite girl even shorter than herself limped out of the shadows and into the open, Cecylia hurried out of her hiding place to meet the other. The dhampir gently took hold of the latter and rushed back to her spot under the bridge. There, they could stay out of sight from any potential patrols.

"<Dame Elspeth de Martel?>" Cecylia was quick to cast a Telepathy spell. She received a brief and feeble nod in return. Her nose sniffed as she smelled the scent of dried blood. However it seemed the wounds had already been closed some time ago.

The young dhampir then tied her new link to the Farspeak connection she was still concentrating on to stay in contact with Ambassador Gerhard.

"<I have her, Sir. She's wounded, at least twice, and has lost a lot of blood.>"

"<Dame Elspeth?>" Gerhard queried. "<You should have mentioned that you were injured. You're in no shape to–>"

"<It doesn't matter.>" Elspeth mustered enough energy to cut him off with her young, girlish voice. "<I've been entrusted to bring the news of what happened here to Princess Sylviane, in person, and I will do it. Will you help me or not, ambassador?>"

"<I've already agreed, haven't I?>" Gerhard replied straight. "<I do not think it is wise for you to travel in person, but I'm certainly not going to go back on my word. Getting out of the city will be easy. The new soldiers who came with Duke Gabriel don't know Alis Avern well and it should be simple for Cecylia to sneak you out.>"

"<Piece of cake.>" Cecylia declared confidently. "<And once we leave the city's wards, I can teleport her off the island.>"

"<With a rider? That's impressive at your age.>" Gerhard remarked.

"<Well, I did grow up with Pascal.>" The young dhampir smiled.

"<Even so, you're no wayfarer, Cecylia.>" Gerhard pointed out their next dilemma. "<Duke Gabriel has already issued a reward for anyone who turns in loyalists of Emperor Geoffroi. You cannot rely on any Wayfarers in this area unless you know them well enough to trust them. And you do need a wayfarer for the number of teleportation jumps you'll need just to leave this region.>"

He's right about that, Cecylia frowned for a moment, before the face of a young redhead came to mind.

"<Sir, I know a wayfarer just outside the city, and I am certain that he can be trusted.>"

"<Whom?>" Gerhard replied with surprise.

"<Sir Reynaud Moreau.>" Cecylia said. "<His father is a close associate of King Alistair. Furthermore, while I wouldn't call them exactly friends, Reynaud has already helped Pascal once during the assassination attempt. Last I heard, Reynaud had just joined an independent 'free company' that was mustering outside the city. They still haven't left for the front lines yet.>"



—– * * * —–



Sneaking out of the city proved far too easy. The new soldiers whom Gabriel ordered to take over the city's garrison clearly lacked awareness of all the blind spots in the city's walls. And since the capital city of Alis Avern was built on rough, hilly terrain and relied more on Lake Alis for defense than its stoneworks, there were a great number of weak spots in its centuries-old fortifications.

Instead, Cecylia's biggest burden was the fact she had to help Elspeth limp along. The young armiger had received a deep stab in her right thigh. Even with magical healing, it would take days for the girl's leg to recover fully. And while the petite Elspeth was anything but heavy, neither physical strength nor stamina were among Cecylia's better attributes.

By the time they reached the encampment that Reynaud was staying at, Cecylia was exhausted to the point of collapse herself. It had taken hours for the two girls to walk just a few kilopaces, and by now it was already late at night. Cecylia's fatigue had caused her to slip and almost attract the attention of passing soldiers who were on watch. Thankfully, a distraction by Ania convinced the soldier that the noise he heard was just a foraging cat.

"Meow." Cecylia cried softly from the shadows as she saw the short and skinny man with red hair near the hay stockpile. Reynaud had promised he'd be waiting for them there when she called ahead by Farspeak.

It took only a moment for the young man to spot them, even with limited torch lighting and the Camouflage illusion spell that made Cecylia and Elspeth's figures blend into their background.

Clearly, his ex-assassin mother taught him more than just swordplay. The dhampir smiled to herself as her hypothesis proved true.

"Cecylia, Dame Elspeth," Reynaud spoke in a hushed voice as he came close. "Follow me, but stay out of sight if you can. Gabriel's men have already visited once and offered a reward to the men for anyone with information on loyalists. Best we keep your arrival a strict secret."

The two girls nodded in agreement, and proceeded to follow the young man through several empty alleys until they reached the door of a modest-looking cabin. However, Cecylia immediately noticed that the foundations of the cabin merely sat upon flattened ground, rather than dug in with wooden pillars like a properly built stationary structure. This meant the cabin was most likely an enchanted, redeployable type — one that could shrink down to the size of one's palm and be carried in a knapsack on campaign.

There's no way the son of a mere chevalier could afford his, Cecylia felt alarms go off in her head. With a flick of her wrist, she popped out her spring-loaded wrist blade and pressed its pointy end against the back of Reynaud's gambeson.

"Whose cabin is this?"

"Relax, would you?" Reynaud replied calmly. "This is Perceval's. We've been sharing it."

"I told you to keep this private." Cecylia hissed.

Despite her attitude, Cecylia didn't entirely object. After all, having a healer to look over Elspeth was useful, and Perceval was as trustworthy of a healer as she could attain within a hundred kilopaces. However Perceval did have political affiliations which added potential complications. And the iron rule of spycraft was that the less people who knew, the better.

"You also told me that Elspeth is injured." Reynaud retorted. "Look, you trust me, you trust my friends. It's simple as that."

He then turned slightly and gloated: "And you'll need more than just a tiny dagger to hurt me."

"Like this?" Cecylia said as she nudged her raised knee against the inside of his upper thigh. She had a loaded blade there as well, though it wasn't ejected yet.

"Holy Hyperion you're vicious for a cutie," Reynaud balked slightly this time, as he realized that one wrong move could have relieved him of his precious manhood.

Sure enough, as he opened the door and helped the two girls in, they were greeted by a wide grin from the young healer. Also present was Gerard Fournier, the beefy young engineer who was part of Perceval's inner circle of close friends.

…It wasn't completely unexpected. But Cecylia shot Reynaud another glare anyway.

Perceval, meanwhile, immediately rushed over to take Elspeth's weight off Cecylia's thin shoulders. He carried Elspeth over to… his giant, white blob of a familiar who was pretending to be a badly-built lounge chair.

There, he took off her armor and began to examine her closed wounds with the professionalism expected of a healer.

"Cecylia, it's good to see you again." Perceval spoke as soon as Reynaud closed the door behind them. "And Dame Elspeth. Please excuse me," he said just before tearing the undergarment that had stuck to her wound with dried blood. "I fear your First Aid has left some complications. There's heavy internal bleeding on your left."

"Yes," the petite Elspeth admitted through gritted teeth. "I think several of my ribs are broken."

Perceval gently pressed his fingers against her left side and the young girl instantly recoiled. He then pulled out one of his quartz tablets to run a scan on the girl before concluding: "three, to be exact. You're also magically drained, though that does make my job easier."

He then cast a surgical spell which made glowing extensions of aquamarine mana sprout from the tips of his fingers. As the healer pressed his fingers against her torso again, the ethereal extensions sunk into Elspeth's body. The young girl's eyes swelled to the size of saucers while a whimper emerged from her lips as though she was a puppy being stepped on.

Considering how mana of different sources usually repelled each other, the ease to which Perceval forcibly projected his own mana into her body showed just how low on magic she was.

I'm surprised she managed this whole time. Cecylia reflected with a grimace. Even a pain suppression spell would have been running on bare threads

"Reynaud has already told us what you told him," Perceval noted as he carefully kneaded her side to line up the broken ribs for mending. "She really is in no state to travel."

"It doesn't matter. I must!" The young girl kept up her bravado even as her face contorted with excruciating pain.

"But–"

"My journey is not up for debate!" Elspeth half-gasped and half-yelled. "If you do not help me then I shall do it by myself!"

There's definitely another reason for her trip that she's not telling us about. Cecylia instinctively felt.

"No, we'll take you." Reynaud declared. "We'll guard you all the way to Nordkreuz," he then looked around and received a nod from both Perceval and Gerard. "All of us."

"Is that really necessary?" Cecylia raised an eyebrow. "More people will strain your teleports."

"I'll manage," Reynaud smirked. "Besides, not like any of us are going to be of any use to the country while we're sitting here. I doubt that usurper is going to let us go to the front anytime soon. His men already expressed their intentions to force us to join his army when they visited earlier. And I bet you he's more interested in using us to fight loyalist elements than sending us against the infidels."

"A traitor during a time of national crisis," Gerard spat. "To start a civil war while we're being invaded? He deserves nothing less than the most agonizing death possible."

Perceval frowned upon that but chose not to comment. Instead he remarked: "Shame to abandon our company though. It was just starting to shape up too."

"Abandon? No way I'm leaving it for those traitors to make use of!" Reynaud retorted. "The last thing we must do before departing is to disband the company. Better to think of the money spent as charity than giving it for free to the enemy!"

Perceval nodded in agreement, despite his obvious reluctance.

"I thought you had joined this 'free company'?" Cecylia asked. Though the name was clearly a bit of a misnomer. Real 'free companies' were mercenary groups willing to serve for the highest bidder. This group was clearly more motivated by Lotharin national pride.

"No. Me and Gerard recruited it from the local militias. Perceval bankrolled it." Reynaud explained. "It really is our company."

"You were training a mercenary company from scratch?" The dhampir asked skeptically.

"Better than serving under one of the local nobles," Reynaud shrugged. "If the company is our own, then we get to keep what we win, and not have to give the majority of it up to some petty lord."

"Petty lord funding the unit right here," Perceval noted sarcastically, which –insofar as Cecylia knew the healer– was actually pretty rare for him.

"You know what I mean," Reynaud quickly added. "You don't try to claim the lion's share of the credit whenever someone kills or captures someone important. Unlike half of our so-called aristocracy."

It was moments like these when Cecylia felt pride as a Weichsen. To promote its meritocratic heritage, her country had strict rules and regulations on awarding credit where it's due. Even the lowliest peasant can expect a promotion after scoring battle honors, while plunder and ransom were always pooled together and then redistributed based on battlefield contributions and accomplishments — and only after widows and orphans received their dues for the comrades who lost their lives.

"In either case, we're Lotharins." Gerard pulled the topic back with pride in his voice. "Fightin' foreigners is in our blood. We figured a few weeks of drilling would be enough for militia men who already had basic weapons training."

"Why didn't you return to Perceval's home in the Duchy of Baguette?" Cecylia queried next as she turned towards the healer. "Surely your grandfather was mustering?"

It was more than just a question of curiosity. Baguette was one of the duchies of the northeastern Belges region, the same area that Gabriel drew his support from. Cecylia knew from her sources that the eccentric old duke had chosen to stay out of Gabriel's army. What she didn't know was why.

She was certain that economics at least partially played into it. Unlike most of the impoverished and politically-sidelined Belges territories, Baguette was well managed by its lord, who made use of its proximity to Nordkreuz and its strategic position guarding the Lotharin estuary to pull in taxes for local development. Because of this, the elderly Duke of Baguette never jealously eyed the Empire's treasury like the rest of his neighbors, nor felt disregarded by the Emperor's attention elsewhere.

However, Cecylia was also wary of the trap of seeing money as the primary motivator of men. People were far more nuanced than that. Her own family certainly valued honor and respect far more than their materialistic possessions. To finally settle in a nation where one felt appreciated — it was why the Falken clans swore their blood oath.

"No." Perceval sighed. "Gramps claimed that since he held the borders with Skagen where the Northmen were mobilizing, it was important for his soldiers to stay at their posts. We had a huge argument over that too." He admitted sheepishly. "In hindsight though, I think Gramps may have had an inkling of what Gabriel was planning to do, and wanted no part of it. Growing up, he's always taught me that as Lotharins, our duty was to Rhin-Lotharingie first, and not to its petty, factionalistic disputes."

Probably the wisest move too, Cecylia thought. If the Duke had joined Gabriel, he'd be counted among the usurpers now. Yet he also couldn't side with the Emperor without having his neighbors turned on him. So he used Skagen as a shrewd excuse.
 
Well, nobody does it openly... but I find it hard to imagine any other motivation for the consistent nitpicking about the topic I've seen sometimes.

I bet you think it's just my pessimism acting up again, though.

I was thinking about this conversation over the weekend and realized that I was never able to quite get across the one point that I really wanted to hit.

First of all, and apologies if my reply had created any misunderstanding (I was suffering some bad headaches last Thur/Fri), what I had meant to say is that I generally don't have issues with discussion of nuances and details about a topic as complicated as slavery. The institution of which has taken on many forms and too often, people immediately thinks of some version of it that they're most familiar with.

But one belief I see too often, especially in the context of colonialism (and by those who defend it), is that 'yes slavery is bad, but this is not slavery since they're getting recompensed/paid', which -- at least in my experience -- is what drives a lot of the more 'nitpicky' discussions surrounding slavery. Such simplification often ignores the fact that a lot of early employment-based labor really wasn't any better than slavery. Like in the video of domestic servants in the victorian era I posted, when a maid is paid extremely little in a year, has no opportunities for any social life outside their job, no prospects of career advancement, cannot leave their job without ruining their character, and is basically stuck in a position where work is synonmyous with their life and their only family is those whom they serve. In such a case, one could easily make the argument that even many forms of slavery offered better social mobility and prospects of working towards a better life.

Thus the quote that I favor being "the truth resists simplicity"

Now, labor today in developed countries have gotten far better than they were at the time of the industrial revolution because we have continuously made laws to protect workers, improve job conditions, etc. It's what rid us of the literally-worse-than-slavery jobs and left us with... at least some standards. Yes, we still have disgusting practices today like effective 'debt slavery' that credit card companies trap people in. But jobs have certainly improved compared to the 1800s.

This has made me wonder -- would it have been possible to reform the institution of slavery (or at least, indenture) that protections were seriously enforced? I note indenture as it had actual reasonable applications, like taking on a loan (a trip to the colonies being the most common back in the day) which today would trap people in effective 'debt slavery'.

This is one of those topics I've considered in the perspective of Daybreak's worldbuilding. For Hyperion states, the practice of indenture is part of their legal system, and they certainly can't just completely change overnight even if there's political support for such. It would be far more effective to push for legal protections, hence the details matter.
 
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This has made me wonder -- would it have been possible to reform the institution of slavery (or at least, indenture) that protections were seriously enforced? I note indenture as it had actual reasonable applications

I'm inclined to say no.
For economic reasons.

Assuming the laws were in place to make it a reasonable choice, (and they spent massive amounts of effort enforcing those laws), It would eventually come down to risk.
The employer using Indenture is basically paying their employee up-front.
What if they die the next day from a heart attack?
What if they are bad at their job?
What if they are unsuited to it or have bad morale?
An indenture contract is a form of gambling, "will I extract enough value from this person to make it worth it?"

I work at a company with fairly high turnover.
It's a pretty tedious job, with lots of detail work, and all on the computer, so some people just don't like it.
We've had people leave halfway through the first day of training.
And we are glad they left, because spending months trying to train someone who is badly-suited to the job is a massive waste of time, both for the training and fixing all the things they did wrong.
Forcing someone to stay wouldn't be an advantage.


That said, I could easily see a pack of nobles spending centuries patting themselves on the back for "taking care of the little people" while completely overlooking the misery they are supporting.
Remember that all those employment improvements came from union strikes and lobbying.
 
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I'm inclined to say no.
For economic reasons.

Assuming the laws were in place to make it a reasonable choice, (and they spent massive amounts of effort enforcing those laws), It would eventually come down to risk.
The employer using Indenture is basically paying their employee up-front.
What if they die the next day from a heart attack?
What if they are bad at their job?
What if they are unsuited to it or have bad morale?
An indenture contract is a form of gambling, "will I extract enough value from this person to make it worth it?"

I work at a company with fairly high turnover.
It's a pretty tedious job, with lots of detail work, and all on the computer, so some people just don't like it.
We've had people leave halfway through the first day of training.
And we are glad they left, because spending months trying to train someone who is badly-suited to the job is a massive waste of time, both for the training and fixing all the things they did wrong.
Forcing someone to stay wouldn't be an advantage.

On one hand, I agree as this is very much the same set of economic incentives that made slavery obsolete in real life.

On the other hand, here's a counterexample to the case you brought up with your company:

In Japan, there is a concept known as Lifetime Employment (終身雇用) - where upon graduation, you interview for and sign onto not a specific job, but a large company. Most grads at this point have no idea what they'd even be doing at their new company. And it's dependent on the company to find them positions best suited to them, train/mentor/groom them, etc. In this system, persistence, loyalty, and dedication to the company are seen as the most important attributes, and in return the company promises to take care of their workers (even during economic hard times) and guarantee economic stability in their lives.
That's not very different from an up-front long-term transaction of indentures. The incentives surrounding it are very similar.

Yes, Japan has its socioeconomic problems, some of which can be blamed on this practice. But overall, Japanese companies do treat their employees with greater social responsibility than most other countries'. Which shows that there is value to this approach.
 
My point here is that paying someone a wage didn't automatically make things better than slavery. Though that certainly never made slavery 'acceptable'.
Oh, paying less than a living wage isn't acceptable either, in my opinion. I just view the issues as only somewhat related.
Yes, Japan has its socioeconomic problems, some of which can be blamed on this practice. But overall, Japanese companies do treat their employees with greater social responsibility than most other countries'. Which shows that there is value to this approach.
They manage to achieve the corporate ideal of karoshi frequently enough that they got to be the ones to name it even in other languages, so forgive me if I have my disagreements with this unnervingly optimistic view. A corporation is incapable of loyalty to its employees, and it's nothing but deception to get the employees to show a corp loyalty.
Just like on Earth, Kaede reflected as she thought of how monarchs would use every tool at their disposal to remind the people of their royal legitimacy.
Can't be having people realize that the entire concept of legitimacy is made up, after all. Though the coins in specific also probably look really cool.

Even highly disciplined modern armies could not escape the taint of war crimes, as American sanctions and threats against the UN International Criminal Court made their guilt in Afghanistan and Iraq all but obvious.
It sure was a choice you made to have Kaede make modern politics-based analogies all the time.
Being called a top quality trade good wasn't exactly a very flattering comment. But then, Pascal merely stated the facts 'as is'.
Sounds fucking terrifying. But if Pascal hadn't said it, she'd probably find out from a more malicious (or maybe just desperate) kidnapper after she did something in ignorance of the danger Samarans face.
"I do remember being 'medical supplies'. But I don't remember seeing Perceval carry vials of blood around."

"Samaran blood is not cheap. It is part of why I told you never to enter the city by yourself," Pascal stated with a completely serious expression.
Yeah, that.
t was clear that despite being a newly-minted, first generation aristocrat with no hereditary wealth, the Marshal prioritized the development of his people and fief.
Despite? Not because of it? I guess most people in his situation historically won't have had the education to take such actions effectively...
He had a son at home — a brat spoiled by servants and a lack of parental supervision," Pascal spoke of himself which elicited a wave of chuckling from the crowd.
Oh, he admitted it. :p
"My father may be gone now, but his legacy from a lifetime of dedicated service remains. Under his tutelage, countless young officers have stepped into the shoes of those who came before them, ready to protect our realm and serve the interests of our King. Under his patronage, many brilliant cadets arose from struggling families, who would have otherwise lacked the circumstances to send their children to proper schooling. Under his guidance, the army has refined its organization and doctrine to score dozens of victories, proving our mettle even as our kingdom is caught between the geopolitical ambitions of giants. Under his vision, Weichsel has almost doubled its size over the past two decades, with new allies to support us so we no longer must bend knees to appease the decadent Imperator on his distant throne."
That moment when you think it'd be nice if those accomplishments hadn't been necessary, right in the middle of a story arc proving empirically that they very much were necessary.

"The decadent Imperator on his distant throne" seems kind of tame as insults go for said attempted-child-killing vainglory-hound lord of slavers lusting after the chance to commit the sins his office was once famous for. Then again, it is a funeral.

"The Sword of Fortitude, quite worthy of its name," Gabriel announced as though bragging while he tossed the arming sword into his left hand. "So long as both me and my men are determined to achieve justice, neither steel nor spell may touch my hallowed being."

It was an artifact of Conceptual Magic — a relic of the dragonlords' highest sorcery.
I wonder how it really works. Gabriel's mouth-noises are as meaningless as ever, and besides that it'd never have shielded from so much as a sunbeam if he'd been telling the truth.
"So that gold-draped puppet, His Holiness, decided that you were a better alternative? You, who failed the phoenix's test three times!? You, who fled from your duties as a prince of the realm decades ago, to bath in idolatry after retiring to an insignificant land!? You, whose hermaphroditic character contained neither the steadfast decisiveness of men nor the sensible judgment of women? Ha!"

Emperor Geoffroi barked another laugh as he gently pushed Lindsay aside and stepped in front of his guards. White-blue flames radiated from his muscular body and splashed against the glowing shields of the templars, forcing them to cautiously take a step back.

"You were never fit to rule, Gabriel, and I can tell you why." Geoffroi continued. "Because the phoenixes knew, just as I did, that you are a cynical, faithless sinner. A homosexual, impregnated by the Devil's lust and devoid of the Holy Father's grace. Yet the Church would pick you for a champion? Just whom is it that the den of corruption represents now!?"
Perhaps it works on the same principle Geoffroi uses to remain unburned while spewing this hate? Though that principle might well just be "the phoenixes are idiots," as far as I can tell. It would also explain why they burned Geoffroi before he actually turned evil.
"<Sylviane is my friend. But I am a Black Eagle of Weichsel. My duties are to our King and our country first,>" Cecylia declared. "<If Rhin-Lotharingie does indeed have a new ruler, would it not be imprudent for us to begin on his bad side by plotting behind his back?>"
Imagine thinking having Sylvannie murdered isn't item one on Gabriel's to-do list for consolidating power.

In return, the Falken clans had sworn a blood oath — to serve the successors of the Drachenlanzen dynasty above all other political interests.

…Though this last detail was a state secret, known only by the Kings of Weichsel and the dhampirs themselves.
...death to all kings. Unless I'm mistaken about this being literally required to mind control themselves.

Eh, if he didn't do that, he probably did something.
 
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In Japan, there is a concept known as Lifetime Employment (終身雇用) - where upon graduation, you interview for and sign onto not a specific job, but a large company. Most grads at this point have no idea what they'd even be doing at their new company. And it's dependent on the company to find them positions best suited to them, train/mentor/groom them, etc. In this system, persistence, loyalty, and dedication to the company are seen as the most important attributes, and in return the company promises to take care of their workers (even during economic hard times) and guarantee economic stability in their lives.

You could also make the comparison that the Lifetime Employment is like Nobility, with a protected upper class of employees retained even if they're fuckups, while profits are made by exploiting temp workers.
Notably the practice has evolved to have more and more temp workers and less and less Lifetime Employees over time.


It would be hilarious if the Nobility starts selling themselves into Indentured Servitude, but it seems like it would undermine the concept.
 
You could also make the comparison that the Lifetime Employment is like Nobility, with a protected upper class of employees retained even if they're fuckups, while profits are made by exploiting temp workers.

Notably the practice has evolved to have more and more temp workers and less and less Lifetime Employees over time.

Well if you put it that way, then any hierarchical structure is comparable with nobility (shrug). As the higher you climb, the more your institution is incentivized to keep you, due to your experience if nothing else.
Personally, I don't care if they're 'nobility' or not, only that there is an effective means of social mobility that offers just rewards for people who work hard at it.


They manage to achieve the corporate ideal of karoshi frequently enough that they got to be the ones to name it even in other languages, so forgive me if I have my disagreements with this unnervingly optimistic view. A corporation is incapable of loyalty to its employees, and it's nothing but deception to get the employees to show a corp loyalty.

Karoshi is anything but a corporate ideal. In fact, from the perspective of Lifetime Employment, it's a complete disaster. You've spent years of efforts mentoring and grooming this guy who is now dead? All your time and effort invested gone down the drain?

No, that's a managerial screwup.


Can't be having people realize that the entire concept of legitimacy is made up, after all. Though the coins in specific also probably look really cool.

To paraphrase Yuval Harari in Sapiens - human civilization is built upon our ability to believe in and work towards fictional narratives like religion, culture, and nationhood.


It sure was a choice you made to have Kaede make modern politics-based analogies all the time.

I read mostly nonfiction. And one thing I've noticed from the books on geopolitics and social policy is that they're absolutely choke full of citing history as example. Graham Allison (former dean of the Harvard Kennedy School of Public Policy) noted fields like geopolitics are really the study of 'applied history'.


I wonder how it really works. Gabriel's mouth-noises are as meaningless as ever, and besides that it'd never have shielded from so much as a sunbeam if he'd been telling the truth.

In simple terms - the Sword of Fortitude turns 'faith' from those around the wielder into magical power for the wielder.
The supreme tool for weaponizing zealotry.


Perhaps it works on the same principle Geoffroi uses to remain unburned while spewing this hate? Though that principle might well just be "the phoenixes are idiots," as far as I can tell. It would also explain why they burned Geoffroi before he actually turned evil.

I mean, wouldn't you be pretty pissed if your own brother just stabbed you in the back while robbers are ransacking your house?
Also, his view is pretty normal for those brought up in the values of pre-modern Christianity (and Trinitian religion is named after the Holy Trinity)
 
Karoshi is anything but a corporate ideal. In fact, from the perspective of Lifetime Employment, it's a complete disaster. You've spent years of efforts mentoring and grooming this guy who is now dead? All your time and effort invested gone down the drain?

No, that's a managerial screwup.
Your optimism fucking frightens me sometimes. Imagining such a lack of malice in the corporate world, of all places. Lifetime Employment seems, at best, to be a consequence of the labor laws I've heard about. And what corporation doesn't circumvent or corrupt the law when it can?

Managerial screwups often come from prioritizing short-term gains over long-term profits, when they don't stem from the usual evils of hierarchy. And when something keeps fucking happening, that indicates a systemic issue.
I mean, wouldn't you be pretty pissed if your own brother just stabbed you in the back while robbers are ransacking your house?
Also, his view is pretty normal for those brought up in the values of pre-modern Christianity (and Trinitian religion is named after the Holy Trinity)
His rage is completely understandable. I take issue with his choice of insults for his traitor brother who conspires with what can be optimistically described as heretics (as in, if you assume the religion is supposed to be good) so he can become a puppet of a puppet.

Perhaps I'd have been more forgiving of this flaw of his, undoubtedly induced by his upbringing and the ideals he was raised to strive for, if he wasn't claiming to be some sort of moral paragon. ...nah, I'm judgemental as fuck. Given the paladin thing, I think I'm being less unreasonable than I might be, though.
I read mostly nonfiction. And one thing I've noticed from the books on geopolitics and social policy is that they're absolutely choke full of citing history as example. Graham Allison (former dean of the Harvard Kennedy School of Public Policy) noted fields like geopolitics are really the study of 'applied history'.
An influence on your writing I hadn't realized, then. :) Good to know.
 
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Your optimism fucking frightens me sometimes. Imagining such a lack of malice in the corporate world, of all places. Lifetime Employment seems, at best, to be a consequence of the labor laws I've heard about. And what corporation doesn't circumvent or corrupt the law when it can?

Managerial screwups often come from prioritizing short-term gains over long-term profits, when they don't stem from the usual evils of hierarchy. And when something keeps fucking happening, that indicates a systemic issue.

That's because I've been studying managerial sciences for years. It helps no one to just go "all corporations are evil". Only by understanding good vs bad management can we get somewhere in building good companies where employees are happy and proud to work in. I've had multiple bosses who were great team leaders, gatekeepers, and even mentors; by the same token, I've seen how bad leaders can destroy teams by undermining workplace culture.

If you're familiar with the philosophical concept of a Social Contract -- that's what Lifetime Employment is intended to be. A promise to genuinely care for the long-term life stability of the employee and take jobs beyond a mere transaction of exchanging labor for money. Is this contract always fulfilled? Of course not. But just because divorce rates are high doesn't make wedding vows a bad thing, but rather that it's not enough.

In many ways, the promise from Pascal to Kaede is inspired by this -- 'I won't treat you as a servant. I'll treat you as family. In exchange for you staying with me.'


Perhaps I'd have been more forgiving of this flaw of his, undoubtedly induced by his upbringing and the ideals he was raised to strive for, if he wasn't claiming to be some sort of moral paragon. ...nah, I'm judgemental as fuck. Given the paladin thing, I think I'm being less unreasonable than I might be, though.

In this case, Geoffroi is also using the insult as a means of undermining Gabriel's legitimacy and sowing doubts among his enemies... which, even if he's dead, could benefit his successor in fighting the conflict.
 
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Volume 2 Chapter 14 – The Storm Front
Volume 2 Chapter 14 – The Storm Front

Two days after the late Marshal's funeral, Kaede and Pascal were passing time in the library when she heard him sigh faintly. The young lord then began to pace back and forth in front of the windows, where his eyes remained drawn to the snowy flurry outside.

"Feeling restless?" His familiar asked as she looked up from the small booklet that she had been writing in.

Pascal glanced towards her with a scowl before responding in a voice somewhere between sullen and irritated:

"I feel like a week of my life has just wasted away."

It wasn't the first time Pascal had expressed his displeasure in the past week over a lack of purpose. While Weichsel's cavalry forces were taking turns launching raids into the Skagen Peninsula, the bulk of its infantry and officers remained in Nordkreuz, with little else to occupy their time other than training. This left Pascal with very few responsibilities, especially compared to his fiancée.

Princess Sylviane had been busy negotiating a new trade deal with King Leopold that sought to attract Weichsen investment to the mines of Rhin-Lotharingie. After all, while Weichsel has a significant metallurgy industry known for the quality of its steel, it also has a shortage of iron ore which it had traditionally imported from the Holy Imperium. However, since the War of Imperium Succession ten years ago when Weichsel annexed several of the Imperium's northern provinces, Weichsel's economic ties with the Imperials had come under periodic embargos.

Sylviane wanted to persuade King Leopold that Rhin-Lotharingie would be a far more reliable source. However the problem was that the Empire's mines and infrastructure were also significantly behind that of the Imperium. Therefore, to meet the same needs, Rhin-Lotharingie would need significant investment and expansion of its mining facilities — capital which the Lotharins lacked and would require outside funding.

The problem was that after centuries of being exploited by the Imperials, the Lotharins were also wary of foreign economic interests. Therefore, Lotharin law specified that all land within the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie must be held by Lotharin owners. This caused negotiations to stall for the longest time until Kaede made a suggestion to the Princess:

"Why not create new, joint venture businesses with shared ownership? If a business has a 51% Lotharin ownership, then it's technically a Lotharin business and can therefore own Lotharin lands. Meanwhile the margin is so slim that should a dispute happen, it wouldn't be hard for the Weichsen owners to draw support from the other side with a sound argument."

It was the exact same dilemma that Deng Xiaoping faced in 1978 when he decided to reform China and open it up to the world. Kaede recognized this and therefore proposed the exact same solution. Last she heard from Sylviane, this was the breakthrough they needed. Negotiations had moved onto the next phase, and the Princess was so delighted she spent all of lunch today in a self-congratulatory spirit.

…That likely contributed to Pascal's mood, as it only further highlighted his own lack of recent accomplishments.

"What are the Northmen doing?" Pascal complained as he looked out the window again in-between his back and forth pacing. "Skagen's army left the port city of Nordkapp a week ago, yet they still have not made it to the border. It is like they are seeking battle yet deliberately drag their feet along the way. We know from past experience their army is capable of more than twice the speed they are marching at, especially on snow."

"Well, you did say that their army of 30,000 alone had no chance of victory," Kaede interjected. "Maybe they are waiting for more reinforcements to arrive by sea?"

"An expedition group of 6,000 from Västergötland has already arrived and is landing as we speak." Pascal noted. "I doubt there is more to come as that country had taken heavy casualties back during their autumn raiding campaign. Meanwhile Skagen's own forces would not have departed from Nordkapp if they had more troops to disembark. Yes, I maintain my opinion that their numbers are not enough to assault Nordkreuz. But if the Northmen recognize this fact, then they ought to respond to His Majesty and begin peace talks! Their current stance of neither fighting nor negotiating is just wasting our time!"

Kaede made a wry, sympathetic smile as she considered her master's frustration. Pascal wasn't much of a negotiator so he was of no use to Sylviane in the trade talks. What he wanted to see above all else was for Weichsel's army to begin its march into Rhin-Lotharingie, to honor the defensive alliance that he himself stood at the center of. However, until the northern threat was resolved — be it through battle or diplomacy — Weichsel's forces were going nowhere. And as a result he was stuck here in Nordkreuz playing armchair general.

With a deep sigh, Pascal forced himself to turn away from the windows. His turquoise eyes fell upon Kaede and for a brief moment, curiosity overpowered irritation in his gaze.

"What are you doing anyway?"

"I'm writing a journal," Kaede smiled more naturally as she raised the enchanted self-inking quill in her hand. "I figure if I'm going to be caught up in the great events of this world, then the least I could do is record it as a first-hand source just like Thucydides." She cited the Greek historian who personally fought in the Peloponnesian War as a general, before recording its details as a warning for future generations to come. "Besides, it gives me a chance to practice writing in your language."

It felt particularly odd to write down letters that she had never personally learned and therefore had no muscle memory for, yet recognized and understood thanks to her familiar bond with Pascal.

"You really are a history scholar," Pascal's eyebrows rose slightly. "Most people in your position would be seeking to change the world, not record it."

"You speak as if I'm not already doing my part to help you and the Princess," Kaede feigned a slight pout.

"No, no. Not at all," Pascal sighed. "In fact, you are being more helpful than I am."

"Patience, young one," Kaede stroked her nonexistent beard sagely before she gave Pascal an encouraging grin. "You'll get your moment soon enough."

"The sooner the better," Pascal remarked impatiently. "But what I meant is — are you fine with just staying to the side as you do now? Recording what you see and giving the occasional piece of advice, instead of actively trying to push the world in the direction you want?"

"I've never considered myself a mover and shaker of the world, certainly not where I come from," Kaede shrugged. "All I've ever wanted was to educate others on the importance of history and learning from the past, to take a more nuanced view of the present and look past the black-and-white narratives that dominate my society back on Earth."

"Considering your father was a professor and you were surrounded by students, that is only natural," Pascal pointed out. "But it is also no longer the case. You now walk among the corridors of power, being close to leaders of national importance. Surely you have greater ambitions than to simply 'teach history'?"

"'Ambition' is really not my thing," Kaede frowned as her lips twisted into a faint scowl.

If anything, Kaede had been mocked as being too unambitious back on Earth. Herbivore men, as the Japanese liked to say — a term Kaede found particularly distasteful as it dredged up memories of his ex-girlfriend and their unpleasant breakup.

"But at any rate," Kaede rushed to bury the distasteful thoughts that she hated to be reminded of. "I haven't even lived in this world for two full months yet. That is far too short a time to develop a mature view of how I envision its future. The last thing I want to be is one of those people who demand change without even taking the time to properly grasp the reasons behind the current status quo. After all," she declared proudly, "I'm a strong proponent that only those who live within a society have any right to make decisions for that society…"

At that moment, Kaede's keen, familiar-enhanced ears heard a commotion outside the door. It sounded as though every officer who frequented the building was now marching down the hall in their leather boots towards the map room.

"Something's happening," Kaede closed her journal booklet and stood up. "Impromptu conference in the map room."

"Finally," Pascal remarked as he immediately strode towards the door. His expression had changed to a grin so eager it bordered on wolfishness.

However his overenthusiasm made Kaede feel uneasy as she frowned slightly.

I know you're eager for recognition, Pascal, the familiar thought. But you should never be in a rush to see battle, or you'll regret it.



"What was Colonel Brykalski thinking!?" Kaede heard General Neithard von Manteuffel's deep growl resounded through the room like rumbling thunderclouds. "His orders were to impede and harass the Västergötlanders' upriver landing operations, not to decisively engage an entire brigade with only three battalions of cavalry and a single company of Phantoms!"

There was no sign of the general's stony poker face as he stared at the map table where a cavalry figure bearing a tattered flag of Weichsel represented the recently shattered force.

So roughly 1,200 versus 6,000? The Samaran girl estimated.

Kaede had read that Weichsel's battalions — based on the Holy Imperium's cohort system — consisted of three companies of 150 men each plus battalion command, with a full strength of 500. Though the reality was a little more complicated since the battalions were organized as self-sufficient units on the operational level, with an integrated support company to manage supplies. As the cavalry shed its support elements to conduct fast raids, this meant that only seven combat companies were present at the battle, with roughly 1,200 combat and command personnel.

Meanwhile General Neithard made the brigade analogy since a Weichsel brigade — based on the Imperium's legion — was roughly 5,500 men, and the Västergötland landing force was 6,000 in strength. Though in reality the Northmen had a very different unit organizational structure.

"That's not exactly fair," Chief-of-Staff General Wiktor von Falkenhausen interjected. "Brykalski followed his orders to the letter. There is clearly something else at play here."

The dhampir general then looked towards Lieutenant-Colonel Hans Ostergalen, who clutched the full transcript of the Farspeak message received by a signal officer earlier.

"According to his second-in-command's report, Colonel Brykalski attacked the invasion fleet's vanguard, hoping to light enough ships on fire to spread confusion and disrupt their landing," Hans began to explain as his eyes darted back and forth across the sheet of paper. "However, the low cloud cover and snow — the very same that hid their own approach — also concealed enemy air forces until it was too late to avoid engagement. Over a hundred drake-riders descended into their formation just as the North Wind Phantoms climbed out of their attack run, forcing them into a chaotic melee. Command of the ground cavalry then fractured after repeated strafing attacks by the drakes' breath weapons, which allowed Västergötland ground troops to close the distance and entangle our cavalry in close-quarters combat…"

"A hundred drakes," the elderly Manteuffel remarked dubiously. "Västergötland couldn't scratch together two dozen drakes in its entirety, and our spies report but a handful with the Skagen army before they set out from Nordkapp. Where did a hundred drakes come from?"

Then, as though in response to the general's question, the map table in front of them conjured a new figure off the coast of Weichsel. The distance was roughly two-hundred kilopaces from the shore, which matched the detection range of Weichsel's artifact — the 'Eye of the Dragon' which the map table drew its information from.

Kaede audibly gasped but she wasn't the only one. The Samaran girl instantly recognized the silhouette of a skywhale. However, as soon as the table's illusion magic drew the first whale, it shrunk the size down before drawing another, and another…

The room fell to a deathly silence as every individual present soon found themselves staring at a formation of four tiny skywhales. The miniature figures flew off the coast of Weichsel, with a numerical label of 1,000 displayed under it — a rough estimate of their collective crew strength.

"That answers the question," General Neithard's lips twitched as he instantly recognized that the reports had been completely accurate, and not the attempts of a defeated officer trying to shirk responsibility as he had initially thought.

Does he mean a hundred drakes were launched from these skywhales? Kaede thought as her eyes widened. They're being used as carriers then!

It made sense, when she thought about it. If the skywhale they saw back in Alis Avern could be configured to transport cargo and passengers, then why couldn't other skywhales be adapted to carry drakes as some kind of 'mobile nest'?

"Skagen's volcanic drakes can outfight several of our Phantoms in a close encounter, especially once they penetrate our formation and disrupt our units' cohesion," General Wiktor commented grimly. "Meanwhile even a few dozen drakes' breath weapons rival the anti-air capacity of three cavalry battalions…"

Kaede remembered drakes as one of the more fascinating creatures from her reading. They were miniature dragons — 'miniature' as in elephant-sized, instead of beings so massive they could use sport stadiums as landing pads and wrestle science-fiction starships. The dragonlords had created the drakes in their image to serve as grunt soldiers during the Dragon-Demon Wars. This made the drakes' mere existence a testament to the godly powers wielded by the dragons of Hyperion's past.

However when the dragonlords departed from Hyperion, they left most of the drakes behind. Lacking intelligence and without purpose, many drake breeds died out. But some, especially the broods tamed by humans, remained. The volcanic drakes from Skagen's Reykjanes Islands were easily one of the more dangerous breeds.

"It's no wonder they shattered in less than a half hour of combat," King Leopold spoke in a hushed tone.

Hans nodded before adding: "the report also states, and I quote 'we attempted repeatedly to break off, but regardless of which direction we turned, a strong gale always blew snow in our faces while lifting the wings of our foes'…"

The Lieutenant-Colonel then stared back with alarm as his fingers tapped the stiff sheet of paper:

"Your Majesty, this is the most important piece of information that the Colonel died to bring us. Between those winds, the skywhales that the 'Eye' just detected, the advancing blizzard covering the Västergötland fleet, and this unusual cold front that just swept down from the North Sea — it can't be all a coincidence, Sire."

"You think it's him?" Colonel Hannes von Falkenberg, the King's spymaster, inquired.

"Him?" King Leopold raised an eyebrow.

"Admiral Winter, Sire," both Hans and Hannes declared at the same time.

"If I remember correctly," General Wiktor voiced next, "this 'Admiral Winter' is surmised to be the one most likely responsible for the destruction of the Caliphate's New World Expedition fleet thirty years ago?"

"Yes, Sir." Hans and Hannes spoke in unison again. The beautiful and androgynous spymaster then gestured for the balding intelligence officer to go ahead, probably since Hans was the first to make the deduction and it was only fair that he claimed the credit.

"Four decades ago, Asgeirr Vintersvend — the bastard half-brother of Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen of Kattegen — wrote a book titled Massive Strike," Lieutenant-Colonel Hans explained. "In it, he espoused for the concentration of airborne striking power by pooling together aerial assets, including both drakes and skywhales, which may be swiftly deployed for overwhelming air offensives that can quickly decide a war."

This sounds remarkably familiar… Kaede couldn't help reflect.

"Then twenty-five years ago," Hans continued, "just a few years after the destruction of the Caliphate's New World Expedition fleet, we heard that Asgeirr had become a Jarl on Skagen's New World Frontier. Around the same time, we began hearing of the name 'Admiral Winter' from mercenaries and traders who frequently associate with the Northmen."

"It took us a few more years before we realized that Asgeirr Vintersvend is Admiral Winter," the dhampir spymaster followed up. "And it has less to do with his name and more with his choice of spells. Asgeirr is a stormcaller, and one of the most powerful archmages Skagen has ever seen. His aptitude for weather control magic and his skywhale familiar are two reasons why, in his youth, he became the first individual to solo-circumnavigate the world."

Kaede had always thought the term 'stormcaller' was a particularly accurate job description. Although the affinity was uncommon, they were easily one of the most important mage occupations in Hyperion. Their function varied from calling down rains for crops, to conjuring winds for trade fleets, to manipulating weather conditions on the day of battle.

"But four skywhales," Princess Sylviane spoke in awe. "Most countries are lucky to have just one or two of those beasts."

"Skagen is not just a northern kingdom, it is also a seafaring culture with a tradition of exploration. Those kinds of people are far more likely to summon a skywhale familiar," Hans pointed out. "I believe only the Grand Republic of Samara has more."

"Even so, how did he concentrate that many rare assets under a single command, given the Grand Jarldom's loose feudal structure?" Sylviane asked next. Her tone carried a slight tinge of envy as though she had personal experience trying to do the same.

"According to our sources," the King's spymaster commented, "Asgeirr has a particularly close relationship with his half-brother Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen, who in turn is one of Skagen's most prominent nobles and the current commander of their confederate forces."

"Furthermore, the Northmen may squabble continuously among themselves, but they always unite when facing an outside threat, and their social structure places great emphasis on personal prestige and fame," Lieutenant-Colonel Hans added. "I believe it's probable that the two brothers used the threat posed by the Caliphate's New World Expedition three decades ago to pool together this fleet, at least temporarily. Then, after their stunning victory, Asgeirr Vintersvend likely used his newfound fame and influence to cement the skywhale captains together as a permanent command under his leadership."

"But how would they hold it together in peacetime? When there is no need for such a massive concentration of force?" Sylviane puzzled aloud.

"They don't need to." General Wiktor explained. "Once a command hierarchy has been established and a sense of camaraderie forged, it is easy for the group to be recreated again, even if those involved go their separate ways during the interim years. This is the exact same logic we use for Weichsel's Fourfold Mobilization system."

"The petty Jarls of Skagen would surely resent someone with this much concentrated power though," King Leopold noted. "The weakness of the Northmen's sociopolitical structure has always been their obsession with one-upmanship."

"Which means when we defeat them, Skagen will not be able to form another battlegroup like this for who knows how long," Pascal scoffed as he spoke up for the first time.

There was never any doubt in his words: not if, but when.

The balding Lieutenant-Colonel nodded in agreement, at least on the topic of replacement:

"Skywhales are extremely rare to begin with, and are too intelligent and powerful to be tamed through normal means. Only baby skywhales may be summoned as familiars, and those take over a decade to grow to their adult size. This skywhale fleet is no doubt extremely powerful, but it is also not a force that Skagen is capable of replacing in anything less than a half-century."

"Which means that once we defeat it, the Northmen would have to sue for peace," General Neithard declared with stiff-jawed determination, his stony gaze already fixed upon the skywhale figures as though brainstorming a battle plan.

"I thought you told me before that Admiral Winter is a proponent of peace with Weichsel? Since in his opinion, warring on us is a waste of time and resources?" The King asked his spymaster.

"He does, Your Majesty. But his political influence is limited back here in Skagen's home isles, where he is resented for luring many of Skagen's finest to adventures in the Frontier," the dhampir replied.

"In fact, I'd say this makes him even more dangerous," Lieutenant-Colonel Hans followed up. "He will likely seek a decisive and crushing victory against us in order to secure a favorable peace. That way, he'll be able to go back and focus on his own interests on the other continent, undisturbed by Hyperion politics."

Great, so we really are dealing with a magical Yamamoto, Kaede thought.

The analysis of the spymaster and the intelligence chief reminded her of the famous Japanese World War II Admiral. Isoroku Yamamoto was one of the most prominent advocates of naval aviation. He was unflinchingly opposed to war with America, as he had lived in America for years and knew first-hand of its industrial might. Yet, after he was politically overruled, he planned and led the devastating Attack on Pearl Harbor in the misguided hope of a swift victory against the United States.

But Weichsel doesn't have the nigh-infinite production of the United States did back then. Kaede thought. Nor could Isoroku Yamamoto call down a Kamikaze — the 'Divine Wind' to literally blow in the Skagen admiral's favor.

"Considering how his skywhales skirted around the Skagen Peninsula where our spies might have detected it." Lieutenant-Colonel Hans went on. "And how they launched their drakes from far offshore to prevent us from detecting them through the 'Eye of the Dragon' until after our first defeat, I think it is safe to surmise that a quick, strategic victory is exactly what Admiral Winter seeks. Which means that his target is…"

"Nordkreuz," General Neithard finished for him with a single word enveloped in deathly cold.

It's just like the Attack on Pearl Harbor, Kaede thought. Although they don't quite have the element of surprise anymore. Perhaps that other battle is a better fit…

"Asgeirr wants to bombard Weichsel's army in its encampments," Pascal said as he nodded in agreement. "Then, once our soldiers' morale and organization lay in tatters, Skagen's ground forces will storm the city. With that, they can achieve victory even with an inferior force."

"It certainly explains why their army's speed of advance more than tripled over the past hour." General Wiktor highlighted. "At this pace, they may reach the walls of Nordkreuz as early as midday tomorrow. We'll have to immediately recall any cavalry detachments still raiding in the Skagen Peninsula. They've been ordered to limit their range of operations so they should be able to make it back in time for the main battle."

The King nodded in agreement before General Wiktor turned towards the signal officers to issue new instructions. However, the intelligence chief wasn't finished yet:

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid the stakes of the upcoming clash are much higher than a mere battle," Hans warned, his voice growing more ominous by the second. "Nordkreuz has one of the most powerful ley-line junctions in Northern Hyperion, and there are claims that Asgeirr is a geomancer in addition to being a stormcaller–"

"That rumor is unconfirmed," spymaster Hannes interjected.

"But it's not rare for a mage of his caliber to have more than one specialization," the intelligence colonel insisted. "We must consider the possibility it is true, especially when you think about the amount of magical power he must have channeled thirty years ago." Hans then flung his arms out to impress the seriousness of the situation upon the others. "The man once devastated an entire armada with hurricane-force winds billowing strong and royal water. There is no reason he cannot do the same against an entire army or even the whole region if he is allowed enough time to access the Nordkreuz junction!"

Kaede couldn't remember the chemistry terms, but strong and royal water –'Aqua Fortis' and 'Aqua Regis'– were two of the most corrosive acids known to medieval alchemists. The latter was named after its ability to dissolve even noble metals like gold and platinum, which were highly resistant towards corrosion.

"Nordkreuz has been the staging ground of many conflicts between Trinitians and the Northmen for centuries, long before we annexed it from the Holy Imperium," Pascal recognized as even his face grew a shade pale. "If Asgeirr Vintersvend indeed wishes for Skagen to focus its resources on their New World Frontier, then he does not even need the city. He could simply raze Nordkreuz and its surrounding lands, to create a wasteland buffer region just like what the Dead Mountains have become."

Pascal clenched the projection table as his turquoise eyes darkened. He then turned to meet the King's gaze:

"Your Majesty, we must intercept Admiral Winter and his skywhales before they can reach the city. Otherwise all Asgeirr has to do is buy time with the Skagen army while he channels a grand sorcery."

"With the North Wind essentially destroyed, all the Phantom units aside from the Phantom Gale company are currently conducting raids deep inside Skagen territory." General Wiktor highlighted. "They'll have to ride overnight if they are to make it back before the main battle."

We've been caught overextended and out of position, Kaede thought as she surveyed the room. The King was clearly worried, as were many of his officers. A few younger faces even revealed creeping traces of fear.

Yet General Neithard, the Manteuffel patriarch, was still as composed as a rock — an unfeeling boulder that merely scoffed at the storm's attempt to dislodge him.

"This admiral has some guts, coming halfway across the world into our domain and trying to raze our city…"

Without even waiting for his king, General Neithard pivoted to the signal officers who used Farspeak spells to stay in contact with far-flung unit commanders:

"Message all of our forces in Skagen. Order every unit to cease any and all ongoing operations. They are to head south and regroup west of the town of Suokamo near the border." he pointed out on the projection map. "I will meet them there with the Phantom Gale. Make haste but avoid engagements until we rally."

"Yes Sir!"

Without waiting for their acknowledgements, the General had already turned his gaze to another — Colonel Dietrich von Falkenrath, commander of the Phantom Gale.

"Assemble your men, Dietrich. We ride north after nightfall, and we will not stop until we are ready to have whalemeat for dinner."

Kaede heard that the youthful-looking, fifty-seven years old dhampir was one of General Neithard's most able protégés. Standing lean and tall, Dietrich von Falkenrath had sepia brown hair and a short-trimmed walrus mustache that might have been fashionable during World War I. His expressions were almost always neutral. But unlike his mentor, there was a constant, brooding intensity within his eyes, accentuated by two blood-red crosses that contrasted sharply with his emerald-green gaze.

Talk about minority overrepresentation, Kaede reflected as she realized that there were not one or two, but three dhampirs within the room: chief-of-staff General Wiktor von Falkenhausen, Knight Phantom Colonel Dietrich von Falkenrath, and Black Eagles Colonel Hannes von Falkenberg.

"Yes Sir!" Colonel Dietrich and several officers saluted with snapping boots. They then gave the King a nod of courtesy before marching out.

Kaede barely spotted a faint tightening of King Leopold's lips. His Majesty was clearly not happy that General Neithard's orders were being carried out without waiting for his approval first, even though he stood in this very room.

"Your Majesty, General," Sylviane then spoke next. "If you do not mind, I wish to join in the assault against Admiral Winter's skywhales. Father told me that there will be a decisive battle near Nordkreuz, and I believe this is it."

The Princess' wisteria eyes shone with steely resolve as she declared: "It is the duty of an Oriflamme to lead the charge, and I shall do so as long as the battle begins over Weichsel's airspace."

Kaede watched as General Neithard, in a rare, uncharacteristic moment, looked uncertain. It was as though the elderly Manteuffel felt conflicted, between whether to accept the Princess' help as military necessity, or to politely reject her since he wasn't actually in favor of the Weichsel-Lotharin alliance.

However before Neithard could respond this time, the King made the decision for him. Leopold strode up to the Princess, took her hands into his own, and shook it with appreciation.

"The inspiring courage of the Oriflamme Paladins is legendary across Hyperion," the King declared. "The knights and soldiers of Weichsel will be proud to follow the Crown Princess of our dearest allies into battle. Isn't that right, Neithard?"

The elderly Manteuffel looked extra stone-faced as he replied in a monotone: "Yes, Your Majesty."

Meanwhile Sylviane nodded back at King Leopold, and for a brief moment it seemed as though the two royals had reached a complete understanding.

"Sir, what about the Phantom Grenadiers?" A young signal officer, who looked barely more than a teen, asked next. "Colonel Erwin von Hammerstein hasn't reported in since two days ago. He hasn't been receiving our Farspeak calls and we're not even sure where he is…"

General Neithard glared back at the signal officer with such intensity that the young man's hands almost trembled.

"Contact his second-in-command Ariadne von Manteuffel." The elderly Manteuffel declared in voice cold enough to freeze air. "Tell her to inform that old man that if he does not meet us at the rally point, then I will personally make him a head shorter the next time I see him!"

"Yes Sir!"

At the same time, a puzzled Pascal queried Kaede over their familiar bond:

"<What did you find so nostalgic during the meeting?>"

"<Huh…?>" Kaede was caught off-guard before she remembered that Pascal could sense her emotions. "<It just… reminds me of something from my world. The Northmen fit the attackers quite well, apart from those crazy flying whales. But the defenders won that fight, so the concepts might be useful…>"

"<And when were you going to tell me?>" Pascal asked impatiently. "<We are on the clock here.>"

"<Right.>" Kaede nodded sheepishly, realizing now that she had been too swept away by the mood. "<Well, it happened near an island called Midway…>"



Ten minutes later, as General Neithard was still discussing their plan of attack with the other officers, Pascal finished drafting out his own plan with Kaede and approached the King:

"Your Majesty, General, I think I have a better idea for an attack plan."

Despite being a mere captain, Pascal's words instantly seized the attention of every high-ranking officer in the room. The King did not hesitate for even a split-second before he gestured with an open palm: "let's hear it then."

General Neithard, on the other hand, looked far more dispassionate. He turned his attention towards Pascal as though merely observing a formality.

"Sire, we know, that the enemy knows, that our cavalry, and particularly our Phantoms, are scattered within Skagen conducting deep raids. We also know that Admiral Winter deliberately circumvented around the Skagen Peninsula, to strike directly at Nordkreuz from the North Sea. Asgeirr Vintersvend has successfully delayed our ability to detect his skywhales until the last possible moment. He likely did so hoping it would take us time to regroup our air cavalry, which creates a window of opportunity that he can exploit."

"You're saying that Admiral Winter will likely launch an immediate air strike on Nordkreuz?" The King inquired. "If that is the case, should we not order the Phantom Gale to remain within the city?"

"Yes and no, Your Majesty." Pascal continued. "I believe Skagen's drakes will conduct a sortie tonight to bombard Nordkreuz, before the majority of our Phantoms can return from the peninsula to challenge their air superiority. However, while we know exactly where his skywhales are, thanks to the real-time updates provided to us by the 'Eye of the Dragon', Admiral Winter will not have the same information in regards to the whereabouts of our Knights Phantom in Skagen. And this, gives us a crushing advantage on information."

"My proposal is that once General Neithard regroups with our other Phantom companies, he should commit all of our Knights Phantom in a two-pronged assault against Admiral Winter's skywhales." Pascal insisted. "If we time it correctly, we'll get there before the drakes can return and rest after their sortie. Our primary goal should be to destroy those armored beasts which serve as a mobile base for the drakes, and hopefully kill their admiral alongside them. Without the skywhales to shelter their drakes, we can then use the Phantoms' superior maneuverability to harass their drakes when they must land to rest and recuperate…"

"Stop." General Wiktor interrupted him. "You wish for all of our Phantoms to be committed to attacking their skywhales, and not to deal with the drakes until later. What about the city in the interim then?"

"We hunker down and prepare for the bombardment." Pascal declared with a stiff gaze. "We send all civilians to basement shelters and reinforce them by magic. And we empty the army encampments and evacuate the men. Units trained in anti-air combat should be pulled in to reinforce the city's garrison. However, all other soldiers should take shelter further away from the city under the cover of illusions to spare them from the bombardment."

"You're using the city and the camps as fodder," the King stared back, amazed. "Pascal, Nordkreuz is your fiefdom."

"I know, Your Majesty," Pascal declared as he felt a chill envelop his body. "But this is also the surest way for Weichsel to win. Nordkreuz will undoubtedly receive damage, but with strengthened anti-air, it will endure and it will survive. The same cannot be said if our forces fail to achieve victory."

"I agree completely," General Neithard remarked stiffly, though his stony gaze also looked upon Pascal with sincere respect for the first time. "We must recognize where the priorities lay. It is clear that the enemy's entire plan revolves around their skywhales, for without them, Admiral Winter will not have a secure shelter to channel his magic from. Therefore we must eliminate them as our primary objective, even at the cost of reducing the city's defenses."

King Leopold stared at Pascal for a moment longer before he pursed his lips and nodded:

"I see you are resolved, and I accept your proposal. The details I will let you and Wiktor work out. However–"

"However given the risks, Your Majesty must not remain here in Nordkreuz." Colonel Hannes interrupted the King, which caused the latter to raise his eyebrows as he glared back.

"You don't think a King should stay and set an example for the men?"

"I think the benefits of that would be marginal and the risks great," the dhampir spymaster insisted. "General Wiktor is more than capable of managing the defense of the city. Your Majesty's heir is still an infant. It is important for you, Sire, to act with prudence, and not with your ego."

Only Hannes would dare say something like that to the King, Pascal thought.

Nevertheless, he did agree with the Colonel. King Leopold might hold the rank of Lieutenant-General and was an enthusiastic supporter of the army, but his forte had always been more in politics than in military affairs. For the King to remain in a city that was about to be hit by a massive air raid — the benefits would be entirely symbolic, while even a fluke hit could lead to severe consequences for the whole nation.

"I concur, Your Majesty," Pascal decided to speak up. After all, did King Leopold not express a desire for me to be more candid with him?

"And so do I," General Wiktor nodded as well.

The King looked between the three of them before he exhaled a deep sigh.

"Very well," he said unhappily. "I will depart back for the capital, but only after we have made all arrangements here," he insisted. "And as I was about to point out — I think it would be an error in judgment to assume that simply because Admiral Winter will take the opportunity to bombard the city, the skywhales will be left undefended."

"In addition to any onboard soldiers and weaponry, they'll likely retain at least some of their drakes as a defensive air patrol," Lieutenant-Colonel Hans pointed out.

"And that is why we will launch two separate waves," Pascal said as he began to explain the details of his plan. Weichsel might not have any propeller-driven 'torpedo' or 'dive bombers' that Kaede spoke of, but the Knights Phantom were more adaptable and just as deadly.

"We send the first wave on a level attack against the skywhales. The Phantom Gale can form a wind tunnel and clear a path through any acidic rain clouds they throw at us…"

Pascal knew that Colonel Dietrich von Falkenrath, commander of the Phantom Gale, was one of the best stormcallers in Weichsel. Even if his magical abilities were nowhere near those of an armada-destroying archmage, they should still be sufficient to create a gap through which they may launch their attack.

"Colonel Albrecht von Bittenfeld and his Black Lancers should then follow the Phantom Gale in the first attack." Pascal declared next. "The Black Lancers are at their best in frontal assaults, and their armored gryphons can fight against drakes in close-quarters combat better than any other mount. We can further augment their numbers by sending in the Phantom Grenadiers. This should draw the attention of the skywhales' onboard weaponry as well as any drakes they retained as a defensive air patrol."

"And that's when you spring the second wave," General Neithard commented, as though already seeing through Pascal's plan.

"Yes Sir," Pascal nodded. "The second wave, consisting of the other two Knights Phantom companies, will move into position, hidden in the upper cloud cover. They will dive down at a steep angle to reduce the amount of time the defenders have to react. Their objective will be to deliver precision strikes against those whales' biggest weak spots — their blowholes."

The blowholes were a relic of the whales' non-magical ancestors. But since all biological creatures needed a vent for air intake, their evolution had left this sole weakness on the skywhales' hardened heads.

Kaede had likened it to a 'thermal exhaust port', which in this context made absolutely no sense.

"Those skywhales will likely carry considerable numbers of anti-air troops on their backs," Hans voiced his concerns. "Especially towards the front to guard such a vulnerability."

"That is why the second wave features two companies when only one could manage the attack," Pascal stated. "Although it would be nice to increase those numbers, it is imperative that the first wave be sufficiently convincing as the 'main attack'."

"In that case, it would be best if I lead the first wave," Sylviane declared. "An Oriflamme's presence will undoubtedly draw their attention. Those volcanic drakes might be tough against fire, but a phoenix's flames will scorch them all the same."

Pascal frowned. I just hope Sylv does not do anything too reckless.

The thought of holding her back never even occurred to him. The mere idea of stopping an Oriflamme Paladin from committing to battle was utter nonsense. Pascal's only worry was that since he lacked a Knight Phantom's training, he would not be able to accompany Sylviane in their mission to attack the skywhales. Instead, he would have to remain behind to help defend the city.

"The general plan is sound." General Neithard declared after a moment of consideration. "I will ride alongside Her Highness in the first wave. However, given the factors of uncertainty, I will hold the Dawn Sky company from the second wave back as a reserve. Colonel Erwin von Hammerstein's Phantom Grenadiers will be assigned to the second wave instead. They can dive ahead of the other company and clear a path through hostile anti-air. Only once they have the defenders pinned down will the real second strike dive in."

He plans to use them as fodder, Pascal immediately recognized.

The Phantom Grenadiers may have accrued some battle experience during their raids in Skagen, but they were still a mostly green unit. To throw them at the skywhales' formidable air defenses alone, they could almost certainly expect heavy casualties.

However, since the Phantom Grenadiers were also the least trained of Weichsel's air cavalry units, they were also more expendable than the other, proper knights.

What amazed Pascal was how the General chose this, despite knowing that his own niece was second-in-command of the grenadiers.

Is he just being callous, or is he deliberately doing this to give her the most dangerous assignment? Pascal couldn't help wonder.

After all, units that undertook the most dangerous assignments also had the most valor to gain. It was as though Neithard expected Ariadne to either return with honors… or not at all.

"Even with all of this, the opportunity to deliver critical damage against the skywhales may only last a fleeting moment," General Neithard then added. "We must consider what is our best means of maximizing damage through those blowholes in a single strike."

For a moment everyone fell quiet as they considered their arsenal of military weapons. But try as he might, Pascal couldn't think of a single option that really stood out.

"Since it's their nostrils," noted the King's spymaster, Colonel Hannes. "What about an inhaled poison?"

Trust a spy to think like an assassin, Pascal almost snorted. However the Colonel was also onto something, and the suggestion immediately elicited an idea from him.

"What about prussic acid?" The young landgrave recalled from the previous night when he and Sylviane discussed steelmaking, where the alchemical was used for surface hardening and caused the blackening of the armor that Weichsel preferred. "It is a highly toxic gas that inhibits respiration, is easy to create, and is also extremely flammable. Once we hit them, those whales will not merely suffocate. They will burn from the inside."
 
That's because I've been studying managerial sciences for years. It helps no one to just go "all corporations are evil". Only by understanding good vs bad management can we get somewhere in building good companies where employees are happy and proud to work in. I've had multiple bosses who were great team leaders, gatekeepers, and even mentors; by the same token, I've seen how bad leaders can destroy teams by undermining workplace culture.

If you're familiar with the philosophical concept of a Social Contract -- that's what Lifetime Employment is intended to be. A promise to genuinely care for the long-term life stability of the employee and take jobs beyond a mere transaction of exchanging labor for money. Is this contract always fulfilled? Of course not. But just because divorce rates are high doesn't make wedding vows a bad thing, but rather that it's not enough.

In many ways, the promise from Pascal to Kaede is inspired by this -- 'I won't treat you as a servant. I'll treat you as family. In exchange for you staying with me.'
I think I've recently learned something that explains the disconnect. You expect people to act in good faith by default, don't you? Even when they hold power in a society where the scum rises to the top.
In this case, Geoffroi is also using the insult as a means of undermining Gabriel's legitimacy and sowing doubts among his enemies... which, even if he's dead, could benefit his successor in fighting the conflict.
People do really fucked up things in war, yeah. I can conceive of phoenixes being more willing to let something done for warfare slide than I am.
After all," she declared proudly, "I'm a strong proponent that only those who live within a society have any right to make decisions for that society…"
Does she include those who suffer at the society's hands in that? Slaves and conquered imperial possessions and such.

Also, I wonder when Pascal's going to notice that he's being intentionally isolated from the action? After all, in a meritocracy, the ones at the top will try to hoard chances at merit for themselves and their supporters.
 
I think I've recently learned something that explains the disconnect. You expect people to act in good faith by default, don't you? Even when they hold power in a society where the scum rises to the top.

Nah. I just think it's more complicated than "people in power are the problem". The core problem with institution building is that any institution -- no matter how noble your initial aims -- are inherently corrupted over time, as those who learn to game the system seek to benefit from the system (just like how gamers learn to abuse game mechanics).

Similarly, there is an issue with people that contributes to said problem. To apply a quote by the Reichswehr commander Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord (whom the Hammerstein in this series is named after):

I distinguish four types. There are clever, hardworking, stupid, and lazy officers. Usually two characteristics are combined. Some are clever and hardworking; their place is the General Staff. The next ones are stupid and lazy; they make up 90 percent of every army and are suited to routine duties. Anyone who is both clever and lazy is qualified for the highest leadership duties, because he possesses the mental clarity and strength of nerve necessary for difficult decisions. One must beware of anyone who is both stupid and hardworking; he must not be entrusted with any responsibility because he will always only cause damage.
  • Most leaders are stupid and lazy and simply do what's easiest for them, regardless of their personal ethics, which usually leads to them contributing to existing problems.
  • Some leaders are stupid and hardworking and even when they have the best of intentions, they'll screw it up. This is doubly complicated when factoring in the Peter Principle - when people get promoted into positions of relative incompetence.
  • Leaders who are clever and lazy can make good decisions if they're correctly incentized, but aren't going to change the fundmental problems that starts to grow in any system and instead, often become part of the problem.
  • Only those who are clever and hardworking, a very rare minority indeed, have a chance of readjusting/reforming a declining institution. And there's no guarantee they'll do it the "correct way", as everyone seems to have a different idea of what the "correct way" is.

Does she include those who suffer at the society's hands in that? Slaves and conquered imperial possessions and such.

Also, I wonder when Pascal's going to notice that he's being intentionally isolated from the action? After all, in a meritocracy, the ones at the top will try to hoard chances at merit for themselves and their supporters.

Does the underclass lives within a society? Yes. Then they should have a right. This also applies to immigrants.

What you noted is also the reason why political factions are also the bane of Meritocracy -- as factions/parties encourage people to play the "us vs them" game instead of focusing on "whose idea works better". As a result, meritocracies often try to consolidate under only a single major political party (to varying degrees of success). Furthermore, in a true meritocracy you are incentized to mentor/promote only the best -- usually by having rules that say if person X screws up, the people who recommended/promoted them to that position are also punished.

Needless to say, Meritocracy does not work well with Democracy.
 
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