Shackled to a Corpse (Youjo Senki/Saga of Tanya the Evil)

Plots and Plans

Plots and Plans




St Gertrude Orphanage
5th May 1924



Amelie opened the letter from Tanya, hoping it brought good news, but knowing that there wouldn't be any. Tanya was a famous and capable Combat Mage now, there was no way she'd be sent anywhere safe.

At least that was what she thought. Tears of joy dripped down her face as she read the latest news, Tanya was coming back to Berun for War College.

Her little girl was going to be off the battlefield for a while, perhaps she could even visit.



Charloburg War College, Germania
10th May 1924



As he watched the little girl get off her bicycle and walk through the front gates, the guard couldn't quite believe his eyes. She was just a child.

"You're judging people based on their appearances again," commented his more experienced colleague.

"How can you not? That's just a little girl! I thought she was just a propaganda model!"

"Well, if you weren't so preoccupied with judging her by looks alone, you'd have noticed her two medals. They don't just give out the Silver Wings and the Golden Crown for participating in photo taking sessions."

"What? But she's so young! How could she possibly have both and still be alive? They're almost exclusively posthumous!" asked the younger man incredulously.

"And yet it's true. From what I hear, she got the Wings by becoming an Ace on her first engagement with the Legadonians and got her Crown by saving Prince Otto in the Rhine. Do you still think that she's just a little girl?"

"That's insane."


Tanya fiddled with her medals as she walked through the hallway to her first class. She never had to wear any of her medals besides the Silver Wings before this, they didn't hold enough significance to justify giving them the limited space she had. But the Golden Crown was different, it was one of the highest honours she could receive, she was obligated to wear the Golden Crown above her Silver Wings.

Entering the lecture room, she saw the faces of her fellow students change into one of shock as they started to notice her. Even with all her achievements, they were still judging her based on her age and appearance. It seems the Germanian Empire still needed to work on her meritocracy.

Taking her seat at the front, she took out her notebook and prepared to learn. Even if she was taking an accelerated course, she was behind schedule. Their enemies won't wait for her to finish her Battalion.


Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
14th May 1924



The Ostero-Ungarian Kriegsmarine has long past its glory days. That had been the general consensus about the Naval arm of the military for perhaps close to a decade.

Yet as with news of the Phantoms' recent escapade, the Navy saw new life. Donations from the citizenry, nobility, royalty and even rumours of Germanian investments brought hope that the dying arm of the military would see the return of its glory.

Projects that should have taken years now expected to take months as the Navy's funding increased fivefold and their manpower threefold. Starting with the completion of the future king of the Mediterranean, the SMS Ozeankaiser.

Once left abandoned after its funding was cut, it now threatened to be the largest ship Osterreich-Ungar had ever constructed.

'A project that would establish the Naval dominance of Osterreich-Ungar in the Mediterranean.'

A quote that was not to be taken lightly, for the future Flagship's entourage was already seaworthy, an entire fleet of the latest Ostero-Ungarian ships waiting for the crowning of their ruler, waiting for the day they can crush the blockade that denied their dominance over the Mediterranean.

And it was all thanks to the SMS Roma. The vessel that started this Naval revolution was to have a starring role in the operation. Oh, what a sight it would be to behold, the ship that carried the name of the Ildoan capital instrumental in tearing apart their plans. Well, as soon as it was finally refitted of course.

It was truly wonderful to see just how much could be done with just the heroism of a few. The Francois and Ildoans would soon know just what a force they were dealing with.

Long Live Kaiser Karl I, may the Dragon of the South reign for a thousand years!


Having a peaceful meal was so hard to come by, but here they were, the Phantoms eating in the furnace room of a decommissioned ship. Pasta in tomato sauce stolen from Ildoan supplies wasn't all that bad, and they also had freshly baked, if albeit burnt, bread. Naval Command would never approve of using a ship as a makeshift bakery, so they best not get caught.

"Major, why did you want to capture the Roma anyway? It seemed so out of the ordinary, yet looking at how much it's done to help strengthen the navy, it almost feels like you had it all planned out," queried Katya, taking another mouthful of Penne.

"Remind me to thank Antonia for sourcing the ingredients for the bread," Marcel confessed his thoughts, "Truth be told, I never thought that far, I was just planning to play games with the Ildoans. Taking their capital, so to speak. I expected it to crush their morale, but I certainly wasn't expecting it to fund our navy. The propaganda division must be working overtime."

"When will they name a ship after me, then? I've donated so much!" demanded Petra, shoddy rations doing nothing to dull her self-importance.

"Probably never, naming a ship after someone as high maintenance as you would be a curse. The thing would probably be so temperamental it never works," struck Katalin, out for blood, "Besides, isn't your father selling the Navy the steel for the ships? You're getting richer from this!"

Felix forced away his grin, taking another bun out of the furnace, "I hear they're planning to commission one named after our Battalion though. Too bad the war will be over by the time it's done. Still, something named the SMS Phantom is sure to strike fear into the hearts of future enemies."

"Quite the positive outlook, Becker. You think the war will end soon?" asked Petra.

"It had better, I can't imagine a reason for anyone to want to drag out the war."



Charloburg War College, Germania
22nd May 1924



Life in war college hadn't been easy, and having limited knowledge from the 'future' made studying tougher. Thankfully those were issues that could be remedied with hard work.

Most of the topics Tanya had become acquainted with during her time studying with Marcel had limited usefulness here. He was a field commander, not a General. His expertise mostly lay in winning engagements, not choosing which ones to fight. Instead, a few things in her journal had shown their usefulness, as distasteful as they may be.

But those were the least of her issues. There were inevitable problems facing the Germanian Empire looming in the future, things that she had no choice but to be a part of. If she didn't form her Battalion, the fate of Germania would be grim. She needed to meet Brigadier General von Zettour.

Tanya Degurechaff had her work cut out for her. Perhaps a visit to a church to curse Being X would relieve her stress.



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Through the pain of having his shell slowly crack from his essence changing, Kysll had to deal with the irritating feeling of knowing that there were mortals cursing his existence.

He really wished mortals would stop insulting him while in church, it was frankly kind of rude. At least outside of holy places, he could pretend to ignore the blasphemy.

The woes of being a deity, he couldn't ever please everyone. Why couldn't they just be atheists instead of blaming him for everything bad that happened to them? It's not like he was short on faith.



Wien, Capital of Osterreich-Ungar
May 1924



Nagy Hendrik had expected the war would cause Osterreich-Ungar to make strange alliances, but he wasn't expecting a meeting like this.

Sitting across from him was an Albish 'envoy', offering a deal. The Commonwealth would provide loans to the Ostero-Ungarians, who were pulled unfairly into a war, in exchange for keeping Albion interests in mind.

Ostero-Ungarian intelligence had already expected the Commonwealth was giving out loans to all three belligerent nations, so it was likely that the Albion Kingdom was playing both sides. No matter which side won, they had something to gain.

So the question was whether they could be brought to favour Osterreich-Ungar more. The Empire had no colonies; a few short lived expeditions to the southern continent had proven that they didn't have the resources to effectively maintain them.

They could offer the colonies of the Francois if they won, but that would be akin to selling eggs that had not yet been laid. Perhaps something from the Ildoans? The Ildoan front seemed to be going well, perhaps they could force them to capitulate by the end of the year.

The details of the transaction were finalised and a deal was struck. Hendrik hoped their fair-weather friends would hold their end of the bargain as the war raged on. But there were other deals to be made, the Balgariya-Dacian Union had their own ambitions in the southern continent, and the Kingdom of Jugoslavija was tiring of the blockade, trade had slowed to a near halt.

It would be a very busy period for a very tired man. That promotion was really a curse.



Charloburg War College, Germania
6th June 1924



Tanya looked through the shelves, searching for the information she really needed. It was clear that the Geopolitical situation was different from the one in her Journal.

There was no likelihood that Balgariya-Dacia would declare war on Germania. In her previous life, the Dacians only joined the war under pressure from the Francois and Legadonians, but in this life the Union was powerful enough to stand against the whims of other nations. Besides, they'd have to march through Osterreich-Ungar to get to the Germanian border.

The only likely threats would be the Albion Kingdom, well known for their meddling, and the Russy Federation, because communists need a common enemy to not tear each other to shreds. Perhaps the Unified States too, they were another military superpower. None of them were forces that Germania would want to take on, much less all three at once.

Putting back her books, she went to look for more references. This time about the historical relationships between the two allied Empires. She found it or at least she knew where the book was. The book out of her reach, she searched for a step stool, cursing the body forced on her by Being X.


It was a mildly amusing sight. A mind so sharp, held back by a small body. She was by no means small, just slightly below average for one aged eleven. But that was the crux of the issue, her age. Despite all her achievements, it seemed like too many people were still against her.

As Lieutenant Degurechaff began to read about the historical enmity between Germania and her southern Neighbour, the silent observer moved behind her, looking over her shoulder.

"Excuse me, you're in my light," she commented, focused on her book.

"My apologies, I was just interested in knowing what you were reading."

Turning around to find out who the offender was, the sharp words she prepared were thrown away.

Behind her stood Brigadier General von Zettour.


How embarrassing, she had almost insulted the member of the General Staff she was waiting for.

"General! Please take a seat, I can tell you all about the book, I have time to spare."

"I'll take you up on your invitation then, why are you reading a book on Osterreich-Ungar?" he questioned, "Surely it would be better to read up on our more hostile neighbours?"

"Their public sentiment now is that they were unfairly pulled into the war by Germania. They are only our allies due to the defensive pact, if the war takes a turn for the worse, they may abandon us, or… worse."

"Oh? Well then Lieutenant, I want a young person's opinion, how do you think this war will turn out?"

Was he testing her? It didn't matter, she was ready.

"If I am allowed to speak my mind? This will be the worst war the world has ever seen. A World War. A war that will take up all the resources a nation can muster."

"A World War? On what basis?" asked the General. She had gotten his attention.

"As of now, we already have five major powers entangled in it. The Empire is superior to its current enemies, and if we fought them one at a time, we would come out victorious. The same could be said for Osterreich-Ungar, they are currently dominating their ground engagements with Ildoa and are making headway in their Naval operations. It would certainly alarm the other powers that the two nations are allied. The Commonwealth and Federation won't like it if we win, they may join in as well."

"Even if they have no direct interest in the war?"

"They may not have any direct interest in the war, but the Albish have always preferred a disarrayed Europa, and the Rus? I doubt they will like having two of the strongest nations sharing borders with them. If we beat the Republic, the two Empires would establish their dominance over the continent. Not something any of the other powers would want. In fact, I bet the Albish are already supplying most of the belligerent of this war."

"What is our goal, then? If we are to avoid the worst possible outcome? How would we do that?"

He was on the verge of understanding that the rules of war had changed, just another push.

"We force our enemies into an unfavourable position and have them make concessions, we limit our attrition until we have favourable terms, as it was for the Ostero-Ungarians. Peace is victory for the defenders."

"How will we do that?"

"You know the answer as well as I do. Aerial Mages have the firepower of Artillery, yet are more mobile than even planes. I expect you've been trying to form a Special Operations Battalion, similar to the Ostero-Ungarians. Our own problem solvers. Give me that Battalion."

Shaking his head, the General rejected her, "You're asking for too much. Your medals may have proven your ability as a Mage, but you do not have enough credentials as a commander. Your achievements make the Nobles envious, there are some Staff members who wish to bury your talent."

"What if I graduated as one of the Twelve Knights? Would you fight for me?"

"Perhaps that would be enough. If you succeed in that, I will do my best to give you that Battalion."

Things were going her way. With a smile, she replied, "Yes sir."

It worked out. She had put her heart into understanding the topic the journal had put so much detail on. Brigadier General von Zettour now understood the severity of the war and had a solution for it, just like her past self had dictated.

It was inevitable that she would be given control over the Battalion, it already happened once. The Empire would need a competent Mage as the commander and who better than the 'Spectre'? The Nobles may complain about her age, but which other living Mage boasted having the Silver Wings and the Golden Crown? In the end, she was the right choice and they knew it.

Her only chance to obtain a peaceful life was by achieving victory. To end the war with her own hands. Best brush up on her command skills, she wouldn't want to disappoint her mentor.


As he left, Brigadier General von Zettour turned around to watch Lieutenant Degurechaff looking through her books.

The future of warfare had been a question long thought about by the general staff. Yet Lieutenant Degurechaff was so sure of how it would play out.

A world war. If it came to be, the Empire would need to escape as intact as possible. Perhaps her plan would truly be the best choice.



Train to Norden
13th June 1924



Erich von Lehrgen looked at the packet General Rudersdorf had passed him just before he left for Norden. It was something that General Zettour had shared, a paper of some sort.

Opening the packet and putting it to the side, Erich started reading through the document. Line by line, he felt his unease growing, until he finally felt that familiar pain in his gut.

The paper in his hands predicted a terrible future. A War that would shake the world. The Alliance between Germania and Osterreich-Ungar had made them both stronger. It was the reason why the Francois, Legadonia and Ildoa had united against them, to balance that power.

Erich von Lehrgen couldn't find any way to disagree with the paper. If Ildoa fell to Osterreich-Ungar and Legadonia defeated by Germania, it would only be the Francois left, an obvious victory for the Great Central Alliance. The other World powers certainly wouldn't sit still knowing that was a possibility. It was possible they would join in.

But there was just one issue he couldn't put his finger on. Why was the whole document so unsettling, was it all the terms he'd never heard about?



Charloburg War College, Germania
24th June 1924



The class that Tanya was dreading had come and gone, with the only thing to show for it being her latest assignment, she had to write a thesis on countering a rebelling city.

As she held her pen to write the paper, Lecturer von Bastion's words kept repeating themselves over and over within her head.

'No reason not to push any advantage you have. Never assume the enemy plays by the same rulebook.'

He was right. The Francois wouldn't play fair, they would use innocents as shields if it meant winning the war. So why should Germania play by the old conventions?

If she didn't write this thesis, the Francois would cut the supply lines to the Western Front, potentially killing tens or even hundreds of thousands of soldiers. A necessary evil.

But yet, she hesitated. If she submitted this idea, there would be no turning back. The world would forever judge her as the one who suggested this horrible idea, the one that suggested that the military burn its citizens.

'They will judge you one way or another.'

Gritting her teeth and putting her thoughts on morality aside, Tanya knew she had to do what was practical and logical. She had to pen a horrifying new page into the Book of War. She would be the one that suggested the 'Devil's Plan', she would be the one that caused the Firebombing of Arene.

In the end, she picked the lesser of two evils. She couldn't go soft, she couldn't let her feelings on the matter take precedence over winning the war. This concerned more than just her.

Signing her name on the cover of the thesis, Tanya let out a curse, "Screw you Being X!"

Screw you, you heartless bastard.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
12th July 1924



"They caught another one, huh?" asked the sailor.

"That's the sixth saboteur so far. Those Ildoans really want to sink the ship," answered his shipmate.

"It's our worst insult to them so far. Those Phantoms are crazy, stealing such an important ship right from under their noses. Scared them so bad they started hiding their ships in their ports instead of using them."

"Haha, those cowards should have known better than to attack us. Crushing them in the mountains and the seas. Probably the plains too, no news being good news and all that."

"Those Ildoans won't forget this war, that's for sure."


"I can't believe we're stuck playing babysitter to this damn ship. Taking care of it is more effort than it's worth. We're the Phantoms dammit, not the Guards," complained Antonia.

Pencil in hand, looking up from his sketch, Adolphus confessed, "Hmph, I quite like this, it gives me time to sketch out my next art piece. 'The Steelclad Insult', it's going to be sought after by every single noble House. It'll be worth a fortune!"

"Why are they taking apart the hull anyway? I thought they said the Major only messed up the insides, it should have been completed by now."

"The Admiral said they're refitting it. From what I can tell, they're reinforcing the front, apparently they want it to be able to ram through the blockade," clarified Hugo, showing his newfound expertise in structural engineering.

"They're really planning to make the operation as dramatic as possible, huh. Hopefully I can get a picture of it happening, newspapers would pay top dollar for things like that," concluded Antonia.

"Ever the money minded," replied Adolphus with a disapproving tsk.

"Hey! You don't get to say that! You were literally just talking about how much your painting would be worth!"


"Port Brindisi is full of those new Ildoan ships. Having two Major Naval ports so close to the barrage makes everything harder, they'd probably send out everything they have to keep us from breaching it," frowned Marcel, looking at the latest reports from intelligence with his chin on the table.

"We'll have to take at least one out before the Operation, then. I'll gather the commanders and we'll figure out how to go from there," answered Nikolai, fading into the shadows before Marcel could respond.

"I'll never get used to that, he's way too used to being in his sister's shadow for his own good. Speaking of sisters, I wonder how Tanya is doing in war college, she hasn't written in ages."



The Alps, Germania
18th July 1924



Tanya cursed her frail body as she marched through the snowy mountain. The day had started well enough, waking up in a resort, a nice walk through a peaceful town. But it led to the hell that was now. While the Germanian Empire had been kind enough to provide accommodation for female officers, there wasn't any regulation on how much weight they had to carry. Whoever came up with the lesson plan was a maniac.

The purpose of the field trip was to gauge the ability of the officers in making decisions while under extreme conditions. Nothing she couldn't handle, she was already combat fit. Lieutenant Viktor Strauss on the other hand, was not.

"Strauss, say an enemy built a defensive firing position up on that hill, and you have been ordered to make a swift advance on them. How would you do it?" asked the instructor.

"I would go around, it would be difficult to break through."

"I'd like to see you try! Look at the topography before you speak! Degurechaff! How about you?"

Dammit Viktor.

"Do I have Artillery support?"

"Assume you don't."

"The safest option would be to make a long retreat and manoeuvre along a different ridgeline."

"If you don't have the time?"

"Skirmish tactics, Mages to take out the emplacement, and the infantry to back them up."

"What if you only had infantry?"

"That would be an impossible task. Just southeast of here, Ildoans are paying for that very same mistake with their lives. Their Air Support, Artillery and Mages have all been taken out by the Ostero-Ungarians and yet their infantry still charge uphill hoping to succeed. As a commander, it is my job to inform you that it cannot be done. We should not waste brave men on foolish tasks."

"I'll take note of that, we'll resume the march!"



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
20th July 1924



"An attack on Brindisi? That's madness. It's a port full of the latest Ildoan ships!" complained Admiral Sterneck of the second fleet.

"Which is why we need to remove it. We won't be able to take out the blockade with two ports worth of ships breathing down our necks. Brindisi is the obvious choice, Taranto is too far away."

"I understand the reasoning! But how do you propose we do that? My fleet is at least a decade out of date! The SMS Gottesschwert has nowhere close to the power of the Ozeankaiser nor the Roma."

Employing his glib tongue, Marcel tried to smooth things over, "I have a plan, of course. It's not going to actually be a naval attack, we will use aerial bombardment for most of the damage. We really just need the fleet to stage our Naval Mages. You just have to fire a few volleys and call it a day. Afterwards, you can even leverage that success to have your fleet refitted, I know you've been sending in requests for a while."

The Admiral tried to excuse himself, "I-I need to go, but I'll think about it."

"Oh, perhaps I should ask Admiral Schiffsbug for the First Fleet's assistance instead? I've heard him brag about the Szent Landzsa being the best of its class."

"He said that? That bastard! He's got a big head just because it's called the Landzsa class! Fine, we'll do it once you get the approval."

Marcel smiled to himself, sometimes it was just too easy.



Cafe Zolka, Berun
25th July 1924



Visiting the Café had become a part of Tanya's routine. It probably started after her first visit with Marcel and Amelie, but it somehow feels like it could have been earlier? Faint memories of visits that never happened occasionally drifted by.

Nevertheless, with coffee and food that was infinitely better than whatever the mess hall served, there was no reason not to visit. She was getting paid to study after all, just one of the benefits of a society that valued their scholars.

Having given the waitress her order, Tanya opened her newspaper, hoping to get more insight of how the war was progressing. It seemed like there wasn't much of a change since, nothing as interesting as a few months back. Then again, it was hard to beat capturing a battleship with Mages.

From what she heard about the Ostero-Ungarian Naval reforms, Major von Bastion probably had it all planned out from the start. Just capturing a vessel was already a dangerous task, they would have been vastly outnumbered with no space to manoeuvre, casualties were practically guaranteed. Yet he had picked a target that was worth the danger, one that severely damaged the enemy's morale after it was captured.

She had to work harder, to fulfil his expectations of her. A Mage that would surpass even him? He certainly knew how to give her a challenge.


Maximilian Johann von Ugar was one of the brightest of his batch. He was on the path to being one of the Twelve Knights, there were few that could match up to him.

But one of them was the girl sitting in the very cafe he was walking past. Reading a newspaper while in her custom sized uniform, Tanya Degurechaff was quite a sight. She always held herself with an air of confidence, like a model soldier.

His curiosity had been piqued a long time, he needed to talk to her. Walking to her window booth, he called out to her, "Lieutenant Degurechaff, a coincidence to see you here, may I take a seat?"

Putting down her reading material, she returned the greeting with a salute, "By all means. Though, you look overdressed for a meal here."

"I was just passing by when I spotted you. I couldn't help but want to ask you a question."

"Well, I'll be happy to answer your questions."

"Why did you enlist as a soldier? Surely someone as talented as you would do well anywhere."

Her body stiffening, she replied, "I needed freedom from the orphanage. I was treated well, but I couldn't just sit there waiting for the future to happen. I needed to do something. Unfortunately there's very little an orphan can actually do, talented or not."

It sounded like ambition, but it was something else. What was it that drove her?

"But you're just a child, you shouldn't be in the military! Surely neither of your parents would have wanted this for you. I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing a little girl having to fight for the Empire. I recently became a father myself, I can't imagine sending my own daughter to war."

"Congratulations, I know you'll make a great father."

"That's besides the point, I cannot imagine seeing my daughter have to fight. There's something wrong with a society that sends its children off to war."

"Like Major von Bastion, you're also someone with common sense. He also recommended I quit."

The Wraith asked her to quit? Was that why he spent so much time with her, then? Was he doing his best to protect a little girl that wanted to fight?

Even as he was thinking about the implications of her words, Degurechaff spoke on, "But I can't do that. I have to fight, I can't give up and let fate control me. I need to forge my own path. Instead, I have to suggest that you quit. I have no family, but you have a wife and a child. Get yourself to the rear before it gets worse. Perhaps the railway department would suit you."

She spoke as if she had nothing to lose, as if fighting was the only thing she had. What a depressing thought.


Tanya knew that Ugar's place was not at the front. He had the talent for the rear and it would be a waste for him to die, he would be a source of the best chocolate and coffee beans while she was at the front. She had handed him all he needed to succeed in the rear, hopefully it would keep another of her friends safe.

The fact that her standings as one of the Twelve Knights would improve if one of her competitors were to leave was just an added bonus.



Port Brindisi, Ildoa
24th August 1924



"Major, enemy Mages at five!" announced Lieutenant Nikolai Morozova as he looked through his binoculars.

"Reapers and Banshees, counter them. Don't let them get close to the fleet!" commanded the Major, "Wisps take out the anti-air! Wraiths take out those naval batteries! Explosive spells authorised and recommended!"

Long distance rounds struck the defending Marine Mages, taking out a few before they scattered, trying to spot their enemies. While the Ildoan Mages were tied down, piercing shots tore through the hulls of the naval guns and the anti-air artillery, opening the port for a naval raid.

"Company pull out of the splash zone! The bombers are coming in!" ordered the Major as the drone of propellers came from the East.

A few bombing runs prepared the tomb for the defending vessels, crippling their ability to fight back. Shells fired from the raiding fleet rained down on the disarmed ships, turning them from 'fleet in being' to 'scraps of steel'. Buried amongst the wreckage were the latest additions to the Ildoan Navy, too precious to use, docked in the port as a show of force. Their treasured fleet sank before they ever saw real combat. The steel spent in making them would have been better used making kitchenware.

Unfortunately for the Ildoans, they couldn't stop the Mages from neutralising their defences before the enemy's naval forces entered the fray. The naval emplacements that were meant for planes and ships were too bulky to deal with the agile Mages. Their own Mages outclassed by the enemy's.

The Ostero-Ungarian attempt to turn the tables on the Ildoan navy worked, the largest threat inside of the Adriatic was no more.

One more task completed before the real show!



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
15th September 1924



Marianne looked at the newspaper like a lovestruck schoolgirl. Her one true love was doing such a great job with Ildoa. She had already spent some of her money on funding the Ostero-Ungarian Navy, but surely he would appreciate it more if she sent over soldiers of her own to help him.

But that couldn't quite work, it would be hard for her to move units from the fronts. Perhaps she could sponsor the creation of a new formation? A Mage formation would be most useful, one led by someone popular and famous. Perhaps the little Mage that was talented enough to foil her plans? She did overhear a few of the Nobility arguing about giving her command over a Battalion.

A Battalion under her name. If Marianne played her cards right, she could help her beloved while increasing her own popularity with the citizenry of both nations, perhaps she could even overshadow Otto and claim the Crown.

Yes, she may not be allowed anywhere close to a battlefield, but Marianne could still win over the soldiers.



General Staff office, Dining Room 1
24th September 1924



The worst birthday meal ever, sour meat, oversalted vegetables, her one bastion of sanity, the plain potatoes. Just how poorly do they feed their officers? Do the kitchen staff even know what cooking is?

"So Captain, how was the meal?" asked General von Zettour, obviously a veteran of the meals here. He didn't even touch the dish in front of him.

"To be frank, Sir. It's much like how a real battlefield is," she replied, holding back from adding 'surrounded by enemies' to her statement.

"A fine answer! Perhaps we should name it the perpetual battlefield dining hall then!" joked Colonel von Kordel from Personnel.

Please don't.

"Your attitude is commendable, Captain. Please don't hold back, you should eat up."

Lying through her teeth, she answered, "It's fine, I have a small stomach, I've had my fill."

"Let's get to the matter at hand, then. Congratulations on your promotion, Captain von Degurechaff. We're here to discuss your assignment. We'll take your wishes into account," said the Colonel, handing over a stack of documents, then a much thinner one, "And here is the one from General Staff. In light of your achievements, you get to choose. We will not force you. Now, I best be going, I have other tasks to attend to."

A curse and a blessing. The only way to fight Being X. She had already chosen before this meeting.

Picking up the thinner binder, Tanya looked at General Zettour, "I would have thought the Nobles in the General Staff would have fought harder against me."

"Well, it seems like the Princess still has her eyes on you. She has offered to be the sponsor for your Battalion, it has made things much easier."

Princess Marianne? She must love her brother very much to be treating his saviour so well.

"When do I begin?"

"The General Staff intends for you to have your Battalion as soon as possible. You'll get your posting as a Formation Officer before the end of the week. While I am not your direct superior, you can consider yourself to be working for me."

"Formation Officer, quite an antiquated title. Hence the promotion, I assume?"

"That is correct, and when you complete the formation of the Battalion, you will be promoted to Major."

"For all intent and purposes, I am a Battalion Commander? Do I have full authority over the formation effort?"

"Yes, as long as you keep the unit within forty-eight members, you can organise it however you wish. Your formation number will be V601, unless you have a special request?"

"No sir, it's fine. I've already gotten so much, I don't want anyone getting more jealous. I'll have the Battalion formed as soon as possible."

"You should be proud that your achievements can make even the Aristocracy jealous."

"I try to stay humble. My mentor taught me that complacency is equal to failure and frankly I'd like to keep both my eyes."

She got the Battalion, time to fill it up with the right people. If only she knew what the flyer that got that mountain of applications looked like. It was unfortunate that past Tanya never wrote it down, she must have forgotten. Tanya needed as many choices as possible, she needed a Battalion that rivalled the Phantoms.

But first, a real meal to celebrate her birthday. A trip to the orphanage would suffice, she did promise to visit.



St Gertrude Orphanage
24th September 1924



It had taken much persuasion to convince her to come back and celebrate her birthday together, it only had gotten slightly easier when she had added the fact that Tanya was graduating war college. It would only be her third time visiting since she came back from the Western Front, it was somewhat upsetting how rarely she visited even though she was almost always in Berun.

Yet her promise to visit did nothing to ease Amelie's worries as she paced up and down the corridor restlessly. It was already so late, but Tanya had yet to arrive. The moment the doorbell finally rang, Amelie rushed to open the door.

Standing from the steps, Tanya greeted the nun, "It's been a while, hasn't it? Good to see you again, Sister Amelie."

Leading Tanya to the dining hall, Amelie replied, "Yes, good to see you too, Tanya. It's quite late, have you eaten dinner?"

Leaving her soldier persona behind, Tanya complained, "Nothing that could be called that. I couldn't stand eating what the Military gave me."

"I'll prepare something for you, then. While you wait, why don't you look at the present Marcel sent," said Amelie, gesturing to a box on the table.

Looking curiously at the box, she began to slowly unwrap it. Inside she found a Waldstatten utility knife, and a note.

'It's always good to have a utility blade on hand. Try not to use it on any allies,' read the note.

Tanya gave out a sigh of disbelief. That additional remark was unnecessary, she had already learnt her lesson. He didn't have to bring that up.

Picking up the knife, she found that it was much lighter than expected. Examining it, she found her name engraved on the handle. What she found most curious was how Marcel had gotten something from Waldstatte to her while also fighting Ildoa. Enigmatic gifting methods aside, he had gotten her a practical gift. Perhaps she should get him something else in return.

Finding herself curious about Marcel's date of birth, Tanya asked the one person that would know best, "When is his birthday? I want to send him a birthday gift."

Looking up from her cooking, Amelie answered, "Oh, that's a nice thought. It's the thirteenth of May. But he doesn't really celebrate it anymore. The past few years have been quite busy for him. Since he travels so much, I would usually mail him a letter instead of a gift."

That solved the issue of the when, now to wonder about the what.



Port Taranto, Ildoa
27th September 1924



Captain Angelo Agosti was a man of faith. He believed that the recent Ildoan naval losses were a test of God. Those accursed Ostero-Ungarian Mages had done enough damage, the deeds of the Devil's pawns! He would strike them down soon enough.

He would be the one to put an end to their machinations. On his name as a Naval Mage Ace, he'll put the RN Roma to rest and bury the Phantoms in the sea! God was with Ildoa!

Deus Lo Vult!



War College has come and gone. Some things change and others stay the same. What are the implications?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
The Hammer to My Anvil

The Hammer to my Anvil


General Staff Office, Germania
30th September 1924



A smile crept up Tanya's face as she looked over the mountains of applications to her call for talent. Within this multitude of paperwork was the best of what Germania had to offer, the most useful resources she could ask for. Her past self would be proud.

Tanya had learnt quite a few things under Marcel's tutelage, but perhaps one of the most interesting was the emotional aspects of war. He had a masterful grasp over how words could be used to rile up an enemy to make them careless or to break their resolve to weaken them.

She would like to think that she had managed to put that skill to good use, ensuring that it wasn't wasted on her. She had pulled on every string she could for her propaganda piece, from the patriotism and restlessness of the soldiers to their need for recognition.

Perhaps she had been too successful, it would take quite a while to filter through the piles. Mages from all over the Nation had sent in their applications, there were even some from the Western and Northern front. Normally it would have been a problem taking talented Mages from the front lines, but Tanya's situation was special. After all, who in their right mind would get in the way of the formation of the Princess' Battalion?

With how much paperwork there was to be done, she should call up the Adjutant the staff had gotten her. A good leader should know when to delegate tasks. Picking up the phone, she called for assistance. A familiar voice soon answered, and came through the office door.

It was nice to see a familiar face, but Tanya certainly wasn't expecting it to be Lieutenant Serebryakova's. She should have still been flying under the 205th company!

"Visha! I wasn't expecting to see you. Aren't you supposed to be still running with the 205th? I would have thought they would send Frida instead."

"She's not yet done with her officer's course. They called me up seeing how I was the only other female Mage from the company."

Oh. That was right, she had forgotten that not everyone went through their military education as fast as she did.

"Well in any case, this is no time to reminisce about the past. We have work to do. Can you call in some MPs to help me sort out the documents?"

"Already on it, Captain. As many as they can muster, yes?"

"That'll be great, thanks Visha," she replied with appreciation. It was good to have a subordinate that knew what she was doing.

As the Military Police helped filter out applications, Tanya looked through the piles of paperwork before her. Sure enough she had found most of the names shortlisted in her journal.

Weiss, Koenig and Neumann, all three of her company heads were here. There were also other talented Mages like von Lebenstein, Pringsheim, Grantz and Klein. That was good, they were all old names, the Battalion was in good hands.

Yet she was still missing a few names, it seemed that not everyone had applied, an unfortunate fact. Tanya would just have to pick out the aces and those with high mana capacity.

In that field, there were so many promising candidates. She needed some sort of test to figure out who really was the best of the best. According to the Journal, something to do with an illusion spell?



<Location Error>
<Timeline Error>



The soldier looked at the blood that soaked his uniform, did the human body even have so much blood? Haha, why did it matter? There's no way he'd survive with how much he was bleeding out.

He was done. He'd spent his life well. Perhaps it could have been better, he could have met a pretty girl and gotten married. But he'd done his best in what little time he had.

As his breath grew shallow and his body numb, one thought filled his mind.

Maybe he'd try harder in Heaven.

Then his eyes glazed over as he breathed his last. Another life cut short by war.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
6th October 1924



Marcel fell out of his chair with a start. Those damn ships and their horns had woken him up.

He had fallen asleep signing off on the write-ups the Phantoms had accrued. Why couldn't Naval Command be more grateful to their heroes? It wasn't like they were using that particular ship anymore. What was the harm of using the furnace like an oven?

Bored of staring at the pile of paperwork, Marcel went for a walk. It was a quiet day, there were no operations today, no training planned, no enemy vessels to harass. The Phantoms were as free as they could be, and there was time for him to see what chaos they were up to first hand.

His Battalion was at their worst when they were free, well at least the old names were. With no direction to follow, the lost souls would run wild. A walk around the compound would show any Ostero-Ungarian Soldier that the Phantoms were only heroic on the battlefield.

Marcel had barely stepped out of the administrative office before spotting the first of his Phantoms. She stopped right before him, crimson hair in a mess, "Finally awake, Major?"

Marcel looked at Katya, then to the steel plates and welding kit she was holding, "Unfortunately. So, what are you going to do with those?"

"Build an oven maybe. I couldn't stand the fact that they banned us from using the furnace," replied the redhead, before looking in the direction she came from, "Oh, looks like they're catching up. I gotta go, handsome."

"Wait! I can just-" Marcel tried to reply.

"Stop running! You give those back!" demanded the Engineer that was chasing after her.

Rolling his eyes and turning a blind eye to his second-in-command, Marcel headed towards the warehouses where he was sure to find some of them.

The first one he found was Petra using one of the Naval Mages as a stool. Be it with her gun or cards in hand, it seems she was undefeatable, she was giving even seasoned gamblers a run for their money. So much for being a noble lady, she was no better than a bandit.

The next Phantom he came across was Antonia, she had set up shop and was taking orders from the soldiers for her next shipment of luxuries. It never ceased to amaze him how she could do things better than the Military's own supply lines. How deep did her network run?

Finally, he came across Adolphus, arguably the most normal of the bunch. He sat at his easel, putting the finishing touches of his latest masterpiece, a homage to the SMS Roma, sure to sell for a fortune.

As he turned back, he spotted the head of crimson again. With a sigh, he followed Katya into one of the storage rooms where he found the last of the old crew. While Nikolai and Katya were guarding the stolen materials, Hugo was showing a diagram of how to construct an oven to Felix and Katalin.

"You guys know that I can just make an order for an oven right? We don't need to steal supplies to make our own?" Marcel laughed at the absurd plan.

"Sir, it's the principle of the matter. We don't need to wait for bureaucracy if we make our own," replied Felix, unwilling to budge on anything related to baking.

"Alright, good luck with that then. Don't burn down the base," he answered, taking his leave.

Having located his troublemakers, Marcel headed back to the office. Some of them had their lives all set up, while he still had no idea what he was meant to do outside of war. Surely there was something out there for him, perhaps he could be an actor? After all, who better to play the Wraith than the person himself?

With dreams for the future tucked in the back of his mind, the Major headed back to his office. The pile of documented infractions on his desk was sure to have grown in his absence.



Imperial Army General Staff Affiliated Agency
14th October 1924



There were way more candidates that passed the test than Tanya had expected. She had only gone through about a third of the shortlisted candidates and yet thirty-five of them had already seen through the illusion. Much more than what the Journal had led her to believe.

By the looks of things, it seemed like most of those that passed were either veterans of the Two Empire War, members of the 203rd or the fellow students of Major von Bastion. Even though that war had ended over half a decade ago, the effects it had on the people were still profound.

Tanya looked at the next person on the list, a familiar face. Lieutenant William Walter, Combat Mage. Wait, wasn't he an Artillery Spotter?

"Lieutenant Serebryakova, correct me if I am wrong, but wasn't Lieutenant Walter a spotter?"

"Ah, he requested to be reassigned as a Combat Mage. He was actually your replacement in the 205th."

With a silent apology to Lieutenant Schwakopf for taking from his unit once again, Tanya called in the former Spotter.


William looked at the door knob nervously. He was about to be interviewed for the role he had applied for. From the poster alone, he wasn't exactly sure what that role was, but it required skilled Mages and he was not going to pass up a chance to do his best for Germania.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and walked into the room. The moment he did, he no longer felt worried, for he was greeted by a pair of familiar faces.

Walking around the table in the middle of the room and up to the small Mage sitting at the back, William cheerfully saluted, "Lieutenant Degurechaff! I didn't think that you'd be the one interviewing me, so what do I have to do?"

With her brow raised, she replied, "It's von Degurechaff now. As for the interview, you've already passed. You didn't fall for the decoy after all."

"Decoy?" William asked, turning behind to look at the empty table, before lying, "I guess I just didn't notice it."

"I see... Well, you'll be called up for the next phase of filtering. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant Walter."

Giving another salute, William excused himself, "Roger that. It was good to see you and Lieutenant Serebryakova again."


As she watched Lieutenant Walter leave, Tanya looked at the remaining stack of profiles. At the rate things were going, she'd have more than forty-six candidates that would have passed this test.

The test had proven less useful than expected. She'd have to do better for the next few. Hopefully she'll be able to filter out the best within the month. She couldn't stand to let her past self down now.



Port Taranto, Ildoa
18th October 1924



Captain Angelo Agosti looked at his men performing their aerial manoeuvres with a frown. They were still lacking. What use was having the latest equipment from Albion if his men were not skilled enough to use them?

"You useless worms! There are demons creeping up our doorsteps and you're still flying like shit! I've seen pigs fly better than you! How can you expect to do anything if this is your best? Get used to those Albish Orbs faster!"

"Yes Sir!" they replied in unison.

"We may not know what exactly they are planning, but we know those demons are going to attack the blockade sooner or later! It is our duty to hunt down those upstarts that dare challenge us!"

Having said his piece, Angelo Agosti looked at the Orb provided by the two-faced Albish. The so-called Phantoms were Mages that outclassed the Ildoans' in every aspect, this device would do little to equalise the odds. It would take the combined efforts of every Mage in this naval base to take them out, even those of the yellow-bellied Francois.

Then he turned to his trump card, a machine gun of the Albish design. The Devil's pawns were monstrous, but they were not immune to injury. Several of them have taken wounds across the months they haunted the Adriatic. With enough effort, even their Commander could be killed.

And he planned to do just that, with the power god bestowed upon him, he will strike down the Wraith!



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



"So, how would you say you're doing?" queried the Overseer of Order as the mass of cubes turned their 'face' to look at the charts.

"Horrible, I'm in over my head and it feels like every step I make may just worsen things," replied Kysll, scratching at one of the many cracks that covered his arms.

"Yes, it was definitely a mistake handing such a heavy assignment to you. Even more experienced Deities have failed in similar tasks. Your very essence is changing."

"Does it always hurt this much?" sighed the inexperienced Deity, "At least the mortals still have faith."

"Only because they still have hope that the war will end. This type of faith is unsustainable. Take too long and they'll lose it all the same."

Kysll interrupted his superior, "I'll do my best."

The Overseer stayed silent for a moment, before replying, "That's fine. But I'm just letting you know that you have been authorised to use the Clean Slate protocol."

"I don't believe I'm doing that poorly. I'll give it a little more work. Perhaps I'll make a breakthrough and we won't have to delete everything."



The Alps, Germania
29th October 1924



Soldiers needed to know how to follow orders. If everyone did as they pleased on the battlefield, there'd be no end to the chaos. Yet flexibility was an important part of being a soldier, there was no sense in following orders if they led to disaster.

The past week of Mage competency training had given Tanya insight into the types of soldiers she was testing. The Mages that haven't left could be divided into three categories.

Many Mages had left after realising that their future Commander was eleven, the prospect of being in a Royalty-sponsored Battalion doing little to regain their interest.

Of the Veteran Mages, only a handful stayed for the training. Unfortunately, even though they were the most experienced, they were the least suited for her purposes. They had become too used to the old way of fighting, even with a whole new arsenal of spells at their disposal, they still resorted to their familiar but outdated spellbooks. Even worse was their inability to adapt to the idea that aerial combat was three-dimensional, they could seldomly react to threats from a different altitude. It seemed unlikely any of the veterans were going to make the cut.

Next were the Mages that were trained during Major von Bastion's time at the Officer Cadet school. While it was obvious that there were two types of them, those that went for his 'extra-curricular' classes and those that didn't, both groups shared the same inclination to use his methods. This rendered them a bit predictable on tactics, but they were much better in their manoeuvres and spatial awareness. With additional training, they would find a place in her Battalion.

Yet perhaps the most surprising part was that the most promising of the candidates were Mages that had already flown with her, albeit in another lifetime. Those that had been named in her journal had started out close to the level of competency she wanted, almost like they still retained a part of their training from their previous life.

With only a few issues left to fix, Tanya formulated a training regiment. The next few weeks would be very intensive, before she picked out the best of them and got shipped to whatever front the General Staff chose.


2nd November 1924


"The training has definitely gotten crazier. I don't think I've managed to get two consecutive hours of sleep," yawned Vooren Grantz as he tried to stay awake for the night watch.

"Tell me about it. With how hard she's driving us, it's like she wants us to quit," agreed William as he tended to the campfire.

"I didn't think I'd be able to last long when I started seeing veteran Mages leave. But it seems like everyone here isn't going to give up easily," commented Christina Pringsheim, "But no matter how I try, it's still hard to imagine her as anything but a child."

"Well, she's certainly no ordinary child. She's an Ace of Aces with quite a list of achievements," added Viktoria.

"You're always praising her, but aren't you one too? You've been fighting on the western front since the start of the war, that itself is quite an achievement," replied William as he added more fuel to the fire.

Stifling yet another yawn, Vooren spoke up, "That certainly explains why she's managed to keep up without a sweat."

"Well, hang in there guys. We're almost through."



North of the Adriatic, Coast of Ildoa
Early November 1924



South of the alps lay the plains of Ildoa and the major port city of Venezia, a fact that was quite troublesome to the Ostero-Ungarian advance. For while the Ostero-Ungarians may have wrested control over the Adriatic from their Eastern neighbour, they had yet to gain control over the land.

They needed an operation that could overcome the stalemate that was trench warfare. Something massive, on a scale never tried before. A naval landing, the epitome of cooperation between the Navy and Ground Army.

With the same efficiency as all their other battles, the Phantoms assisted the Mages of both arms of the Military in their undertaking, destroying the coastal emplacements and covering the Infantry from the sky. Bit by bit, mile by mile, they cut through the supply lines that fed the Ildoan trenches.

In their optimistic predictions, High Command believed that the Ildoan ground troops would soon surrender once heavier divisions were brought over to properly crush them. Then all that would be left was to force Ildoa out of the war by reclaiming the Seas.



Port Taranto, Ildoa
11th November 1924



"Those bastards did what? A naval landing? What is Command doing? How could they let this happen?" demanded Captain Agosti, holding up the latest intel.

Those damned Ostero-Ungarians planned to encircle the land troops instead of the barrage! This was out of the predictions, he was so sure his reckoning with the Phantoms was about to happen.

The demons were afraid, that was it. They knew he would strike them down and were avoiding him! They hoped to defeat Ildoa without facing him. In the name of the Lord, he will slay the Wraith!

Deus Lo Vult!



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
10th November 1923



Princess Marianne looked at the military man in confusion, "Can you repeat that?"

Once more, the man informed her of the status of her sponsored Battalion.

"It's ready for mobilisation? But they just started the formation process a month ago. I had high hopes when you assured me they would be the very best. Surely you don't expect me to fund some half-baked unit."

"Your royal highness, I assure you that the 203rd Battalion is anything but half-baked. I have monitored their progress myself, each and every member of the Battalion is the best of the best. The training they have participated in during this one month was much more intense than any other Mage has gone through," assured the man.

"Really now? You seem to have a lot of faith in the Spectre. Fine, have them prove themselves in Ildoa, only then will I see if they really are worth my funding."

"Yes, your highness."

"Don't fail me, General von Zettour, your reputation hangs in the balance."



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
13th November 1924



As she stepped off the plane, Tanya was struck with the smell of smoke and salt. High Command had really sent her to Osterreich-Ungar. It seemed like the Princess herself had given the request, according to General von Zettour, it was both a test and a sign of cooperation. The Princess wanted her money's worth.

Being in Ostero-Ungarian territory was quite an experience. Instead of the usual awe-filled eyes of her fans, there were only soldiers eyeing them in suspicion. While there were no outright hostilities, it seemed like they would have to gain the trust of the Ostero-Ungarians first. Besides, six years was hardly a long time, faulting them for it would be hypocritical, the Germanians did the same.

Tanya ordered her Battalion to head for the bunks before she went out to liaison with her former mentor. It was a reunion long overdue and she hadn't written much to him in the past few months.

With Visha by her side, she looked around the area for someone who could be her guide, finally spotting one of the Phantoms by the grinning skull motif he had. Unfazed by her appearance, the red-haired Mage led the two of them to meet the Commander of the Phantoms.

As they walked, Visha tried to befriend the Mage, excited to meet a fellow Rus. Yet the Phantom barely responded to her, only guiding them in silence. However, as soon as Visha started talking about her former roommate, he changed his tune, it turned out that they had a mutual acquaintance.

Following along with them as they conversed, Tanya learnt more about both Visha, Nikolai Morozova and the woman called Elena Muller than she would ever need. Only Visha could make friends so easily in a different country.

Finally brought to a warehouse, she turned to thank her guide only to realise that he had already disappeared. Was there a need to be in such a rush? She would just thank him the next time they met.

It was only after she entered the building that she realised why he had left. In the centre of the dimly lit room was a crowd cheering around an elevated square platform, a makeshift ring. And in the centre of it all, Marcel von Bastion making his finishing move.

"And down goes the challenger! The Wraith has defended his title as King of the Ring once again!" announced a woman who had a striking resemblance to Lieutenant Morozov. His twin sister.

As Marcel stood upon the ring in triumph, his focus turned to Visha then Tanya, he finally spotted them.


Marcel stepped out of the ring and headed towards a pair of familiar faces. Two of his best students, Tanya von Degurechaff and Viktoriya Serebryakova.

He called out to the Lieutenant calculating the bets of the fight, "Antonia! I need a bottle of your best grape juice. We are having a celebration tonight, I have family visiting!"

Turning back to his visitor, he asked. "Now, what are you doing all the way here? I didn't think Germania cared all that much about what was happening with Ildoa."

"It seems that the Princess believes that the sooner we can take out Ildoa, the sooner the Ostero-Ungarians will be able to help us fight the republic," explained Tanya.

Looking at Viktoriya for a moment before he turned back to Tanya, Marcel continued, "That seems to be the most likely direction. Your Battalion, have they been trained in naval combat?"

"Unfortunately, none of the 203rd have. Not even me," she confessed.

"We have a few hours before sundown, how about we make good this alliance with some extra training?"



Adriatic Sea, Coast of Osterreich-Ungar
11th November 1924



Tanya thought she knew what she was fighting against. The Phantoms were all-rounders, their equipment was not uniform, meaning that not every member held a weapon that was effective on Mages. On the other hand, she had trained the 203rd to be superior Mage hunters, each member of her Battalion was equipped to take out any Magical threat. She was at an advantage.

Yet it was obvious she had underestimated the threat the Phantoms posed. It turned out to be really difficult to shoot at targets you couldn't aim at. Even without camouflage spells, the Phantoms were hard to spot, their blue-grey flight suits blended against the sky. Their combat equipment doctrine was more advanced than that of Germania, perhaps she should make some suggestions to high command.

But the true issue was that the Ostero-Ungarians fought differently from the Francois. She had trained the 203rd to fight against an organised force, not scattered Mages.

Perhaps if she had more Two Empire War veterans in her Battalion, she would have held up better, but it was too late for regrets. A loss was a loss.

There was much to be learnt from the differences in the way they did things. Training against the Phantoms had proven to be enlightening, much like her consultations during her Officer Cadet days. Marcel von Bastion always seemed like he was ahead of the curve, one step ahead.

Their varied equipment was not as much of a weakness as she had assessed. While the Vanguard Mages heckled her men, the Sharpshooter Mages would take out anyone who was distracted.

The mobility of the Phantoms was something to be noted, they truly understood that the agility of a mage was their greatest asset. Even their snipers relocated themselves constantly, never lingering in any location longer than it took for a single aimed shot.

Their use of spells were interesting as well, such as their use of reinforcement spells on their weapon to add impact to their blunt strikes, breaking through shields. They knew the same spells, but used them in more creative ways.

Finally, there were the Aces of Aces that were the Company Commanders. Each one was a threat that would have earned whoever took them out a promotion, yet no one could rise to the occasion to claim that reward.

The Banshee was armed with a Submachine gun, unlike any other member of her battalion. With a much faster rate of fire and ridiculous accuracy, it was no wonder she was called the most dangerous Phantom.

The Reaper was an ominous enough name as is, but she certainly lived up to it. It was nearly impossible to spot her as she darted in and out of range, never being in a spot long enough to shoot at. There was only the feeling of inevitability as her rounds struck shield after shield.

The Wisp was famous for his flames, a terror to the infantry. However, the general ineffectiveness of the flamethrower against Mages didn't mean he was not a threat. After all, with just his sidearm, he had become an Ace of Aces.

It was plain to see that the Phantoms were great Mages, their reputation a testament of their battlefield experience. There was much that they could impart to the 203rd.


Orderly. That was how the Phantoms assessed the 203rd. They did their best to keep in formation, holding their position. They were much harder to scatter than most foes. Compared to the Germanian Mages during the Two Empire War, they were undoubtedly more dangerous.

The Mages of the 203rd had very little variation, all of them used approximately the same equipment. In other words, they were the exact opposite of the Phantoms. While the Phantoms were kitted out to improve on their individual strengths, the 203rd were more united, working with each other better.

Despite only having a month of training, the 203rd had managed to hold out well enough against the Phantoms assault and even take out a third of the Phantoms in retaliation. Who knows how well they would do once they got real experience fighting as a Battalion. They had gained the approval of their more experienced counterpart.

If there was one thing the Phantoms could agree on, it was that this was a meeting worth celebrating.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
11th November 1924



Chaotic. That was what the Phantoms were when off the battlefield. Unlike the efficiency they had in the air, the Ostero-Ungarian Battalion were anything but professional on the ground. That went for their Commander as well, Tanya's idealised image of Marcel was slowly being eroded.

Standing on top of a table, Marcel spoke to the Battalions, "How about a round of introductions? After all, we'll be working together for the foreseeable future."

"Must you stand on the table?" asked Tanya, trying to hold him to even a modicum of professionalism.

"How else am I supposed to talk to all of them? There's close to a hundred people here," he continued, shrugging off her request, "Anyways, to those of you unclear of my identity, I am Major Marcel von Bastion. Perhaps better known as the Wraith. I look forward to seeing what the Spectre of Germania brought over."

'Why not use a voice amplification spell?' Tanya thought to herself, before giving her introduction, "And I am Major Tanya von Degurechaff, known by those from Germania as either the Argent or the Spectre. I studied under Major von Bastion in my Officer Cadet days."

Next came Petra, deciding that it was her turn in the spotlight, "Captain Petra von Stahl, commander of the Banshee Company. Don't let my beauty fool you, I'm the deadliest person here."

"And an absolute monster at cards, don't play with her," warned Matheus, looking poorer than usual, "First Lieutenant Matheus Johan Weiss, vice commander of the 203rd and commander of the second company."

"Don't bet what you can't afford to lose, dear."

"Captain Felix Becker, commander of Wisp Company. You should believe what he says about Petra, never play with her. What you shouldn't believe are the rumours about me, I don't actually like the smell of burnt flesh. I prefer the smell of baked goods."

"Captain Pek Katalin, commander of the Reaper Company. I like the smell of pastries, but I definitely prefer to be the one doing the baking," added his fiancé.

"First Lieutenant Wilbald Koenig, commander of the third company. I don't think there's much I have to say about myself, perhaps the fact that I've been trained to use a sword?"

His interest caught, Felix commented, "Our commander uses his sabre very often. I wouldn't be opposed to watching a duel."

"Let's not. It would be a disservice for me to compare whatever I do to someone who actually learnt swordplay," frowned the Major.

"First Lieutenant Rhiner Neumann. Commander of the fourth company. I thought I was large until I saw that guy, what does your mother feed you?" he asked, comparing himself to Hugo.

Standing out even while sitting down, Hugo replied, "Nothing special, at least nothing I can remember. As far as I know, I've always been like this. I can't recommend it though, it makes me a lot easier to hit. In fact I envy those of a smaller stature, like your commander."

Tanya didn't know whether to feel insulted, she herself did occasionally think about the benefits of being her size, "Is that right? Even if you would have difficulties using a rifle?"

"Maybe not so much, I do enjoy using my guns," he conceded.

"Perhaps you should get a lighter weapon, Major von Degurechaff, it's probably better if you get something that suits you. I'm thinking a SMG would be good, I could hook you up with one in no time," suggested Antonia, "Second Lieutenant Antonia Zamfir, if you want something, look for me."

"Maybe, but I don't exactly have the disposable income for that. Perhaps one day."

"Our Commander is pretty effective even with the standard rifle. It would be a mistake to look down on her!" Visha exclaimed proudly, "First Lieutenant Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakova, the commander's adjutant."

"A Rus-born adjutant, that's quite a coincidence. First Lieutenant Katya Dimitrova Morozova, I'm Major von Bastion's right hand! I think we're going to get along great, Viktoriya."

"Wait, but that would make me the left hand. I never agreed to that. Whatever, I'm First Lieutenant Nikolai Dimitrovich Morozov. We're twins, if it wasn't clear."

"Thanks for guiding us around the base, Lieutenant. You left before we could thank you earlier," Tanya gave her belated thanks.

"It's no problem, it's what the Major expects of us. I'm sorry, I just didn't want to stay at such a noisy place."

"A Legadonian, a Dacian and Rus twins with red hair. It's interesting how diverse the Battalion is," commented a woman as she drank wine straight from the bottle, "First Lieutenant Christina Pringsheim, at your service. I was a former trainer."

"So was Major von Bastion. Hopefully he still remembers me. Second Lieutenant William Walter."

With an amused laugh, Marcel replied, "How could I ever forget my absolute worst student? In fact, I bet I can name all of my former students in the 203rd. You picked up quite a few, Degurechaff."

"Only a coincidence, I just picked out those with potential."

"It's a shame you had already left by the time I became a Cadet, it would be interesting to have you as my lecturer," said Vooren, looking slightly disappointed, "Maybe Major von Degurechaff would treat me better if I was. Second Lieutenant Vooren Grantz."

"I think that's unlikely, but I would also have liked to have been taught by the Wraith. I have a feeling that the current lecturers don't actually understand what they're teaching. Second Lieutenant Lotte Klein, from the same batch as Vooren."

"That's not a good thing to hear, I would like to imagine I did my best preparing the documents," replied Marcel looking a little disappointed.

"Perhaps you could sort it out when we aren't celebrating," commented Lotte before she brought attention to the silver haired girl next to her, "Now why don't you introduce yourself, Nicole?"

"Second Lieutenant Nicole von Lebenstein, I studied at the Officer Cadet School during the same time as Klein and Grantz."

"The same Lebenstein as the Germanian steel mill?" queried the Osteran woman, recognising Nicole's unique hair colour.

"Yes. You know what happened don't you? You're a von Stahl."

"A real shame indeed."

"Well, what a way to end things. Now that everyone else has introduced themselves, please organise yourself and smile, I need to take a photo. Second Lieutenant Adolphus Schicklgruber at your service, I want to turn this moment into a painting."


The meeting between the Phantoms and the 203rd was a noisy affair. The party was lively and the food was reasonably better than what Germania fed its own soldiers. For some reason they even had freshly baked bread and a lot of pasta. Did they always eat so well?

Feeling a little overwhelmed after the introduction, Tanya excused herself and went out for a breath of air. She began analysing what she had learnt.

The Phantoms were very different from any other Ostero-Ungarian soldiers. The first difference was their appearance, although it was obvious that they were all elites, not a single Phantom wore any medals. They didn't wear any high honours upon their dark blue uniforms, not even Marcel wore his Silver Cross.

Next was their general attitude, if Tanya had to use one word to describe them, it would be 'lax'. They were sorely lacking in discipline, typically treating Marcel's words as suggestions. Yet he didn't seem to mind at all.

Finally, their interaction with the 203rd. While most Ostero-Ungarian soldiers looked at her Battalion in suspicion, not even the veteran members of the Phantoms seemed to care that there were Germanians around. Or perhaps they had found new victims not yet wise to their tricks, some of them had already made a killing from their interactions. That itself would be a problem, but much less than outright hostility.

"So, what do you think of my Battalion? A bunch of rowdy animals, perhaps? Is that why you came out here alone?" asked Marcel, handing over a glass of grape juice.

"I thought they'd be more professional. I thought you'd be more professional. I'm seeing them commit infractions left and right. Why aren't you stopping them?" Tanya questioned.

"They're not paragons of virtue, that much is true. I give them freedom in exchange for their skills, a time to play and a time to work. You saw them in the mock battle. Did they look like they were playing games?"

"No, they were as serious as they could be, a little terrifying to fight against, to be honest. Some of them certainly felt like they were trying to kill us, despite using unenchanted rounds."

"There you have it, I can vouch for my men's competence in flight. They will get the job done when it comes to it. I assume this is how you think of your own Battalion as well? Did your Princess give you a name?"

"Her Highness didn't name us. We're just the 203rd Commando Mage Battalion. As for vouching for them? They definitely have the potential."

"The 203rd? That's like calling us by our designation as the 111th Specialist Mage Battalion. Just doesn't have the impact I want," he commented, taking another sip out of his glass, "If they can live up to expectations, maybe your enemies will name them for you soon enough."

"Maybe. Do you have any idea what the next operation is going to be? Are you really going to attack the blockade?"

"That's the plan, unless they want to start shipping people for a full on invasion to take Roma, there isn't very much we can do besides taking control of the Mediterranean and cutting off their sea trade."
"Sounds like Ostero-Ungarian high command has a plan. When do we set sail?"

With a grin, Marcel answered, "At most a week from now. Plenty of time to prepare."


And so the Hammer and the Anvil meet. In this chapter, there are a bunch of names that may or may not be familiar. What do you think about them?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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In the Name of God, a Show of Force

In the Name of God, a Show of Force




Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
11th November 1924



With her eyes wide open, Viktoriya looked up at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep, not even after the party. She simply had too much on her mind. Ever since she had learnt about Marcel von Bastion being the Wraith, she was worried he'd figure out that she was the one that took his eye.

Finding the room stuffy, she got up from her bed and stretched. Perhaps she should go out for a walk, the ocean air would do her good.

Giving one last look at her blonde superior that shared the room with her, Visha closed the door.

"A bit late isn't it?" asked a voice from down the hallway, "Guess it'll save me some time."

She paused in her tracks as she saw Major von Bastion walk down the corridor with a shovel slung over his shoulder. Her shovel.

He finally recognised her. There was no doubt about it.

Preparing for the worst, she backed up into a defensive stance and prepared a spell. Yet as he brought the shovel to her face, she flinched.

"Haha. You were so much braver the day you took my eye. I never did ask how it felt to strike down the worst Mage Germania had ever seen."

She stared dumbfounded at the shovel before her and the Mage that held it.

"I still remember the day my confidence got shattered. There I was, confident I could take on anything the Germanian Mages could give and there you were, with a shovel."

"I…" she fumbled, fear keeping her from voicing out her thoughts.

"My shield stood strong against so much, yet a single swing from you cut through it like it was nothing. Even after all these years with your shovel in my possession, I still have no clue how you did it," Marcel continued, before presenting it to her, "I give up, you can have it back."

In an instant, Visha's expression changed to one of confusion, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Why am I returning a shovel I took from a twelve year old after kicking her? Is that the question? No real reason, I would have done it back at the academy if I had it back then."

"Wait, you've known since back then?" she asked, "And you didn't do anything?"

"Of course I knew, I had profiles on all my students. As for why I didn't do anything to you, why would I? It wasn't personal, it was just war. I'm not as barbaric as many seem to think."

"I see. Thank you," she replied as she accepted the peace offering.

As he left, Marcel gave Visha a wave, "I'll be going now. Don't stay up too late, Schaufelprinzessin. There's plenty of work to be done in the morning."


Tanya cut off the audio enhancement spell as soon as the conversation outside the room ended. So that was what Visha was so worried about, it was a good thing Marcel was so forgiving. He'd already forgiven her back at the Office Cadet School.

To be honest, the reason why she didn't intervene was because she was sure that he wasn't the type of person to take revenge, yet as the conversation went on, she was also a little worried that her intuition was wrong. She was glad she was right. Yet, even though the Wraith and the Shovel Princess had met without issue, her heart was still beating rapidly. It looked like she also needed to calm down with a walk outside.

Donning her trusty coat, she went out in search of her adjutant. As she left the bunks, someone called out to her. It was Lieutenant Morozov's twin sister, lightly dressed despite the chill.

"That's a pretty nice coat you're wearing, are you cold? Why don't you stand here for a bit? It's warmer here."

As she approached the smoking redhead, the Rus woman put out her cigarette.

Tanya found that unusual, as most smokers in the 203rd weren't that conscientious. "Lieutenant Morozova, you didn't need to do that."

"I couldn't let the Little Major breathe in such dirty air, you're still so young. The Major would get mad at me for putting his sister in danger."

Tanya didn't need any more people pointing out how young she was. However, she was more concerned about the Lieutenant calling her Marcel's sister. Was that how she saw their relationship?

"Sister?"

"He said that his mother has taken care of you since you were a child. Doesn't that basically make you his sister?"

That… wasn't far from the truth. It wouldn't change much for her if she accepted it. But why was she so averse to the idea?

"I don't know. Lieutenant Morozova, what's your family like?" she asked before she realised what she was saying.

"Please, just call me Katya. If we're going by proper terms, it's just me and Niko. But to me, the Phantoms are my family too. Even Petra, as insufferable as she is. And if it ever came to it, I would follow Marc- the Major to the depths of hell. I guess that now makes you my family too."

Suddenly, she was being inducted into this woman's idea of a family without even being given a chance to think about it. This left her with a strange feeling and lots of confusion.

The thought of being a family with others was a strange thought. They barely knew each other, they were only connected as acquaintances, was there really any place for attachment?

Perhaps she should review what she thought about the 203rd as well. Her Battalion was full of people, not just soldiers. Each had their own lives outside the war. Did she elect to ignore that in her past life? Was it impractical to learn more about her subordinates? Where should her priorities lie?



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
<Time Error - Outdated>



Being X looked at the soul before Himself. It was perfect, it had come from a mortal who had never wavered in their faith even in the toughest of times. A soldier of faith.

The soul of the soldier began exploring the scene they were put in, having quickly accepted the end of his life.

"You've lived a life well spent, My child, your faith has been strong," He spoke, manifesting Himself before the soldier.

With a momentary look of awe, the soldier replied, "Didn't protect me from a dog's death, though. But at least it's over, right? I get to go to Heaven, reap my eternal reward?"

Heaven? Eternal reward? Just what have these mortals been telling each other?

"There is no Heaven. All souls get reincarnated," He corrected the foolish thought.

The soldier went silent for a moment, before being filled with a negative emotion… indignance?

"What? I can't rest? I lived my life faithfully! You even said so! No Heaven? No peace? I can't do this anymore! Living was hell!"

How presumptuous of this mortal to be demanding a reward for fulfilling their purpose.

"You lived your life well, your faith extraordinary. It's a reward in its own right. You lived the life you were supposed to," Being X continued.

It should have been a satisfactory answer. Yet for some reason, it only deepened the negativity within the soul.

"That's not how it's supposed to be! One life. I always told myself that I only had to do it once. All my suffering would end. You mean to torment me more? Well then, fuck you. Fuck your stupid system and fuck your lies."

Why was the mortal so upset about something they wouldn't even remember? This was a waste of His time, all He wanted to do was to speak to an exceptional soul.

"You won't remember this anyway. For you, it'll always be one life. Hopefully you will be faithful in your next."

With a snap of His fingers, the spectre of the past faded, their soul returned to the cycle.

"Fuck you! I have no God!"

The entity looked away, why couldn't they be content that they fulfilled their purpose? They were mortals and He was a God, that should have been enough.

The being looked at the next soul that He had picked out, this time a heathen. A wasted existence. A salaryman with no morals.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
17th November 1924



Marcel woke up on the floor of his office. He had fallen out of his chair after falling asleep trying to remember the members of the 203rd.

There was little to say about his former students. He could name every last one of them, especially those whose faces he had planted on the ground before. Some of them still didn't like him much, but that was a problem percussive maintenance could fix.

The 203rd's company heads were from the Eastern front, yet they were at a level of competency one would have only expected from seasoned veterans. Tanya's training must have been quite impressive.

As far as Marcel could tell, there were no issues of friction between the two Battalions, they got along swimmingly. Perhaps this was the wonder of young men with alcohol, it was a shame he was too busy to join them.

As he finished the last of the paperwork he had set out last night, Marcel looked at the clock. It was breakfast time.


Tanya looked at the fresh piece of bread before her. It had been days since she had been brought to this unofficial mess hall by Katya and she still couldn't believe that there was actual food here. There was even jam.

Somehow Captains Becker and Pek had managed to get their hands on baking ingredients at the naval base. The bread they baked was simply divine, a far cry from the K-brot the Germanians provided their troops. A fact proven by how many members of the 203rd had their meals here daily.

"Unbelievable. I will never get sick of your bread," complimented Tanya before she took a bite out of her breakfast.

With a smile Captain Becker replied, "A pleasure! It took a while to build this oven right, but now that we've gotten it perfect, we just had to share."

"But are you sure you don't want more? We still have plenty! You look like you could afford to put on more weight!" added Captain Pek.

When they acted like this, it was easy to forget that they weren't just bakers, they were both Aces of Aces, dangerous forces of war. Talking to them during her meals gave her a lot of information, albeit on not so important topics such as what pastries the members of the 203rd liked.

"Oh, you're still here? I would have thought you'd be done with breakfast already," voiced Marcel as he took the seat across from her.

"I was just about to leave," she replied, returning her plate to the front, "I've been a little busy training my Battalion."

"I understand. We're moving off tomorrow after all, lots of work to be done. Be seeing you."



Port Pula, Aboard the SMS Ozeankaiser
18th November 1924



Perhaps it was simply because this was Tanya's first time seeing the titan up close, but it was awe-inspiring to be aboard the 'King of the Mediterranean'.

The fact that it dwarfed every other ship within the fleet was perhaps the most impressive. It truly gave a sense of how war could advance technology.

What a shame.

"Appreciating the sheer size of the ship, I see. Sometimes I wonder how much steel they used to finish this ship," voiced Petra von Stahl, breaking Tanya out of her thoughts.

"Oh, Lieutenant von Stahl. I was just thinking about how sad it was that this feat of engineering could only exist because of something as horrible as war."

"Ah. Perhaps that's true. Some wonderful things come from horrible events, like…" Petra replied before trailing off.

"Like what?"

"No, just forget I said that. Let's talk about something else, I've been told that you've only recently become a noble. That means you haven't learnt how to properly act like one."

"Wait, what do you mean-"

"We have some time. Let's get you acquainted with ballroom dancing, you'd need it when you want to gain connections," interrupted the noble woman.

Networking would certainly be useful, but not right now. They were at war, surely there would be a better time for this!

"Oh, but we're going to be busy real soon. Perhaps we should leave this for another time? Besides, we're both noble women, wouldn't it be hard for you to teach me whilst doing the male portion of the dances?"

With the perfect retort, Petra von Stahl crushed Tanya's argument, "As part of our operation, we have to maintain magic silence for the next three days, so that means no training. And I didn't say I was going to be your dance partner, I merely said I was going to teach you."

Oh no.

"Nikolai, stop laughing and fetch the Major," she continued, looking at the snickering redhead hiding in the shadows.

Damn it.

In a few short moments, Marcel von Bastion was dragged up to the deck by his own men, a betrayal of the highest order.

"I thought we were done with this!" whined Marcel as he was brought before the future Baroness.

Tanya looked around the deck at the betrayal of her own Battalion. They were all staring at her. She wanted to hide away from everyone.

Taking her hands, Marcel responded to her panic, "Keep calm, I'm not looking forward to this either, but it's easier to go with Petra's flow than against it. She takes everything about nobility very seriously."

"Fine, but don't hold anything against me."

"Please get into position," ordered Petra as she began her lesson.

With a sigh, Tanya spent the next two hours learning each step and movement. While Marcel did every part of his role perfectly, Tanya found it hard to do the same.

Her stature made it awkward to keep up, ever so often she would end up stepping on Marcel's feet with the full force of her combat boots. Thankfully, Marcel didn't have toes to apologise to.

"Alright. I suppose that's enough for now. Well done Major, it seems like you haven't forgotten our lessons."

"I'm leaving," said Marcel as he left to nurse his broken pride.

"You were wonderful, Major!" complimented Visha as Tanya finally completed her ordeal.

"It really didn't feel that way. I messed up so many times."

"But surely you enjoyed doing something new for a change?" asked Petra.

She didn't do great but… she had fun? She actually enjoyed learning something that wasn't about war.

"I guess I did."



Port Taranto, Aboard the RN Ildoa
19th November 1924



The day of reckoning was fast approaching, the Ostero-Ungarians were making big moves. Angelo Agosti could feel it in his bones, the blessing bestowed upon him growing stronger. He had been chosen by God.

Standing on the Flagship of the Regia Marina filled Captain Agosti with pride. Even through all the tribulations Lady Ildoa had faced, she still stood strong against the barbaric Black Dragon of the South. Soon she will stand above the corpse of the beast, bringing victory back into the hands of the brave Ildoan soldiers.

Angelo Agosti will do his part as the sword that slays the demons. For the grace, for the might of the Lord!



Adriatic Sea, Aboard the SMS Ozeankaiser
19th November 1924



Marcel felt the hairs on his arm stand up on ends, like there was a charge in the air. Almost as if all the hatred and animosity of Ildoa was pushing against the determination of Osterreich-Ungar.

This would be the toughest battle the navy faced yet, their enemy would put everything they had into the defence of the blockade. And the Ozeankaiser would be there to face them, for it was the flagship of the navy and the terror of the seas.

Their success here would be monumental in the grand scheme of things, as without any enemies encroaching on their borders, the war would reach a turning point. Osterreich-Ungar would send their troops to Germania's Western front. It would be the first time in a long and bloody rivalry between the two Dragons where they faced a common foe. How fitting that it was once again against the Francois?

It almost felt like history was repeating itself.


Tanya looked over her equipment once again, checking if everything was ready. She was nervous. This was a much bigger mission than facing off against the Dacian Infantry and Cavalry. This was a major diversion from her journal, she had nothing to work with.

She went through the game plan in her head again, making sure she knew it like the back of her hand.

As soon as the SMS Roma reached the blockade, her Battalion was to protect it and the Fourth Fleet while they cleared up the remaining ships that made up the Eastern half of the blockade.

The Phantoms would be doing the same while the Fifth and Sixth Fleets took on the better defended Western half. It would only become more dangerous as the vessels from Port Tarano arrived, which is why they were expecting the Fourth Fleet to reinforce them as soon as possible.

What a mission to have as their first, protecting the very symbol of Ildoan dishonour. Every Ildoan ship in the Mediterranean would want to sink it.

Even so, Major von Bastion seemed sure the 203rd would rise to the occasion. How was he always so confident in the abilities of others?


Vooren Grantz held the Mage as he leaned over the railing, "There, there. Let it all out."

Having to hear William puke his guts out wasn't how he wanted to spend his mornings or afternoons… or nights. Honestly, it would have been a much more enjoyable experience if it was any of the female Mages instead.

These were the best years of his life and he had to spend it fighting a war? He'd kill for a date with anyone. Well, anyone but the Major.

"I see someone hasn't found his sea legs yet," spoke a voice from behind.

It was the Dacian, what was her name? What a time for his memory to fail him. Dammit, she was pretty too.

"Well, he'd have a much easier time if we could use magic. Do you sell anything that can solve the problem, Lieutenant uh… Za-."

With a hostile smile, she replied, "Zamfir. I could tell from the dumb look on your face that you forgot. If I did have something, I would be charging you extra. But I don't, I never bring my stock with me to battle."

Trying to smooth things over, he responded, "Right, I'm sorry. I usually remember the names of beautiful ladies much better."

Sensing a weakness to profit from, Antonia struck like a viper, "Flattery will get you nowhere. Now a meal at a fancy restaurant on the other hand…"

"I'll see what I can do," he promised, before watching her walk away.

"Grantz you dumbass, stop flirting and help me up," cursed William, yet to regain enough strength to stand up.

"Oh, right!"



Adriatic Sea, The Adriatic Blockade
20th November 1924



The waves split before the charging vessel as it rammed into an Ildoan destroyer. The groan of steel pushing against steel filled the quiet night only to be drowned out as the cannons from the rest of the fourth fleet lit up the night sky and struck the defending Ildoan ships.

The hull of the outdated Ildoan vessel finally gave way and crumpled against the wrath of the SMS Roma, becoming the first victim of the refurbished ship. With the weakest link of the blockade broken, the first objective was completed and the race against time began.

As more shells filled the sky, it was evident that there was something strange about the Ostero-Ungarian naval weapons. Some of the shells glowed bright even as they flew through the sky and tore through layers of steel before exploding, while others made much larger explosions than should have been possible.

Through a little bit of Osteran ingenuity and experimentation, it was discovered that one could indeed enchant an artillery shell, though sometimes the spells would fail. As soon as it was discovered that they were no more dangerous to store, Enchantment Mages spent days and nights adding piercing and explosive formulas to high-calibre munitions. And finally on this very night, the Ildoans would come to experience the fruits of their labour.

As the breach grew bigger the three fleets split off, ready to reclaim their seas.


Tanya looked around her, trying to identify any threats to the Roma. While the darkness may have made it easy to hide the ships, it also made it hard for her to see any incoming enemies.

"Company four, cover the rear of the Roma! Companies one to three, with me! We have ships to disable!" she ordered.

"Roger!"

The firefight had begun, they were on the clock. The longer they took, the less likely it was for the operation to succeed. They had to push every advantage.

There wasn't actually very much a Mage could do to a warship, not without a lot of effort and magic. All she could do was to strike at the motors or weapons to cripple them, leaving them as sitting ducks for the Fourth Fleet to strike down.

Unfortunately it wasn't one-sided for long, a group of Ildoan Mages had bypassed the Ostero-Ungarians and was headed straight for the Roma. It was plain to see they had nothing good planned.

"Company Four in pursuit of hostiles, they are ignoring us!" radioed Neumann.

In the split second she turned around to spot the enemy, carnage happened behind her. An Ildoan defender had managed to hit the ammunition stores of an Ostero-Ungarian vessel, destroying it with a single lucky shot.

It was just luck she told herself, it wasn't Being X yet. But she couldn't grow complacent. This was war and anything could go wrong.

"Neumann! You better shoot down those Mages before they can do anything to the Roma!" she ordered, before cutting down a Mage with her utility knife.


"Fuck! Some of those Mages slipped past us! Permission to pursue, Commander!" shouted Felix.

"No! Just radio the 203rd! They'll have to deal with those. It seems we have much more pressing concerns," as he saw an Ostero-Ungarian Naval Mage get shot down in a hail of bullets. The Ildoans had a machine gun in the air.

"Commander! Magical signatures coming at seven O'clock! Recorded Ildoan Ace amongst them!" called out Lieutenant Morozov, "Additionally, the enemy fleet is fast approaching from eight O'clock!"

"Ace spotted! Preparing to engage!" called out Katalin, before she reported her failure, "No good! His shield shrugged off two shots! Likely a high mana Mage, he's equipped with a machine gun!"

Marcel could feel it, the charge was at its peak, his intuition calling out to him. He knew what he had to do, this was a Mage he had to face himself.

"I'll leave the ships and the Mages to the rest of you, go wild! The Ace is mine! Keep out of his range!" ordered Marcel before he cloaked.

Flanking the enemy, Marcel got behind the Ace just as another Naval Mage was shot down and fired his shotgun at point blank. As the pellets impacted the shield, a blinding light engulfed the area. And when the light faded, Marcel found that the Ildoan's shield still stood strong. This was the strongest barrier he had ever encountered.



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Kysll looked up from his paperwork to look at the notification. A Battle of Wills. A clash between two Blessed. Kysll looked at the data values going haywire and sighed. This was out of his hands, he had no control over the blessed.

All he could do was watch a battle that would likely be seared into the records of history.



Adriatic Sea, The Adriatic Blockade
20th November 1924



As the pair of shots failed to pierce his shield, Angelo grew more confident. He knew that God was on his side! He just needed to strike down the Devil's pawns!

Then, a wall of pellets impacted his shield from behind and for a moment he was engulfed in Divine light! God had protected him from the scheming demon.

The captain turned towards his attacker, a Phantom with a trench gun. Through the many records the demons had left behind, Angel recognised the Mage as the Wraith himself, foolishly hoping to take on a servant of God!

"Demone! Ti abbatterò in nome di Dio!" he shouted, a warning to the unholy being that his end was nigh.

Yet the Wraith responded not with fear, but defiance! Instead of cowering, the demon shot at him once more.

"Désolé, je ne parle pas pourceau!" The Wraith replied in perfect Francois, as the pellets bounced off Angelo's shield uselessly.

How dare he insult the language of Ildoa! With his hand on the trigger, Captain Agosti started trailing the Mage with his machine gun. Shouting a prayer in Francois, knowing now that the Wraith could understand it, "Oh Seigneur, avec tes bénédictions, j'abattrai les impies! Ta volonté soit faite!"

Yet once again the Wraith responded not with fear, but defiance. He taunted in Germanian, "I'm sorry, I don't speak frog either!"


"Company Four reporting! All the Mages that tried to board the Roma have been neutralised!"

"Good!" responded Tanya, before she gave her next order, "Company Two, take down the final destroyer's guns. We can't waste any more time."

"Roger!" replied Weiss.

Three shots pierced the guns of the enemy vessel, stopping any further offensive actions.

"Major, the remaining drifters have surrendered! The Mages are retreating!"

It had been hard, but the 203rd had done it. The Eastern half of the blockade was no more.

Suddenly, Tanya was overcome by a discomfort in her gut, the feeling of the whole world shuddering.

Tanya turned to look at the unworldly golden light that came from the west. She may not have seen anything like it before, but the answer came to her in the form of discomfort. This was something 'divine'. Being X was doing something.

A chill gripped her. She didn't have any overpowering weapon that could stand against him. She was very much a normal mage, could she stand against whatever Being X was doing?

"Commander! The Fourth Fleet is moving, we need to follow them!" shouted Visha.

She shook her head to clear out the intruding thoughts. She didn't have time for fear, the Phantoms were counting on her! She couldn't fail them, she'd gotten through everything so far, all she had to do was use whatever advantage she had.

"Battalion, we need to reinforce the Fifth and Sixth Fleets! Let's move!"


Taking charge while her commander had his hands full, Petra took the stage. It wasn't often she could reveal her command skills.

"Reapers, take out the Mages at three O'clock! Keep them off the Major!"

"Roger!"

Several shots fired off in quick succession and the Ildoan Mages closest to Marcel were taken out.

"Reapers have control of the situation!"

"Wisps, keep those pests off the Sixth Fleet! We have Mages landing on the decks!"

"Enemies spotted! Boy, let's show them why they should have stayed in the air!" answered Felix, changing to his flamethrower.


Marcel silently thanked his Phantoms as he noticed that the encroaching Mages had been dealt with. Now he could properly focus on the Ildoan Ace.

The taunts had worked in riling the Mage up, he was too angry to properly use the weapon, turning it from an efficient Mage killer into a waste of ammo. However, he still had plenty of rounds, plenty of chances for Marcel to make a mistake.

The Mage needed to be disarmed. For that, Marcel needed to keep him off his feet and create an opening before he calmed down enough to properly use his weapon.

Knowing what must be done, he gave a prayer of his own, whilst layering yet another insult upon the Ildoan, "Oh lord who art in heaven, blessed be thy name, deliver me from the wrath of the misguided!"

"How dare you speak the Lord's name, demon!" shouted the enraged Mage as he pulled the trigger yet again.

A volley of rounds passed through Marcel, only for it to be revealed as a decoy. Before the Mage could respond, Marcel flanked him and struck from below. His enchanted bayonet finally tore through the Ildoan Captain's shield, weapon and even the left side of his face.

While it would have been better if his attack had ended the enemy Mage, the Ildoan had managed to move out of the way. Instead, Marcel ended up doing something much more poetic. A lesson passed on, a reminder that no Mage was invincible, at the cost of an eye.

It was almost pitiful, looking down at the Mage who let his emotions lead him. One last blow, to free a fool from his delusions.


The SMS Ozeankaiser raced towards the RN Ildoa, a contest of titans commencing. The magical shells of the Ostero-Ungarian leviathan tearing chunks off the older behemoth. In response, the Ildoan vessel struck back with their own, fruitlessly striking the modern Battleship's plating.

Seeking a better angle, the Ildoan Flagship tried to manoeuvre around its opponent, only to lurch forward in response to an attack from below. A submarine had managed to hit the propeller!

As the RN Ildoa tried in vain to keep moving, another enchanted volley struck its guns, ending all ability to fight back. A final two torpedo strikes breached the hull, ending the beast's struggles.

Yet the end of the RN Ildoa did not deter all of their Regia Marina, for another Battleship raced towards the Ozeankaiser ready to seek revenge.

It readied its arms, ready to fire. But before it could act, it faltered when struck by an enchanted shell from the east. The SMS Roma had come.


The worst day of the Ildoan navy had come to pass, their already low morale shattered further. With the RN Roma still under enemy control and the RN Ildoa sunk, the remnants of the Ildoan fleets began to flee.

It was a victory, yet there were many losses. In their last ditch defence, the Ildoans had caused countless casualties and even sank several Ostero-Ungarian ships.

This was the price of war.


Tanya raced past the SMS Roma towards the golden light. If this was one of Being X's plots, it was up to her to stop it. With her enchanted utility knife, she cut down the Ildoan Mages that still wanted to fight.

Until finally, she saw the source of the light. Two Mages, wreathed in Being X's blessings, were fighting for dominance. One was an Ildoan, but the other was… Marcel.

What was she supposed to do about this situation? What had Being X done to Marcel?

Before she could decide what to do, the Ildoan Mage charged towards Marcel.


Anger that was all he had left. Anger against the being that took his eye, Captain Agosti unsheathed his knife and charged upwards towards the demon. An eye for an eye. He struck at the face of the Mage, determined to return the favour, only for his wild swing to be caught by his much calmer opponent.

"I'm sorry, but I already lost that one a long time ago. Better luck next time," said the Phantom, trench gun brought close.

A click of a trigger at point blank and the Ildoan ceased to be. He had no more thoughts, no more emotions and no more regrets. A wall of death unhindered by the lack of a shield ended the Ace. The Wraith had claimed another life.


Tanya didn't need to do anything. As soon as the Ildoan Mage was torn to shreds by a wave of metal, the light faded.

Marcel took a deep breath, then turned to face her, "What a mess. At least it's over now."

A flash of terror ran through her body as she saw his face, and his left eye glowing gold. A memory from another life haunted her. A female Mage with immense power.

"Yeah," she replied weakly.

"Phantom 09! Report!"

"Blockade cleared and enemy fleet routed!" answered Nikolai, "The Ildoans and Francois are running away!"

"Let's pack up, Degurechaff. Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale."

"Yeah, I just pushed myself a little too hard," she lied.

"Hold on to me then," he replied, offering his hand, his eye back to its normal blue, "I'll get them to cook you a good meal when we get back."



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



The Battle of Wills was over and there was only one Blessed left standing. He had outmatched his opponent, showing his determination to win this war.

The previous administration had made too many Blessed. As the war went on there would only be more of such battles, as the Blessed started picking sides. Heroes emerging to fight in the war was not a good thing. They may extend it even longer.

Kysll scratched his head as he began to think. This was unacceptable. There had to be a way to counter this. If only he could rescind blessings.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
23rd November 1924



Tanya was troubled. Marcel was one of those 'blessed' by Being X. That made him a threat, even if he had no animosity with her, even if he favoured her.

She didn't want to, but she had to plan a contingency should Being X turn him against her. She needed a way to beat the Phantoms. She needed to come up with a way to beat a Mage strengthened by the malicious Entity with her own power.

If only she had a weapon that was strong enough.


Tanya was afraid of him, there was no other reason she had to lie about being unwell. She had probably seen how violently he had dispatched that Ildoan Captain, the Germanians didn't use the trench gun after all.

It was still hard to remind himself that she was still just an eleven year old girl. She may have been mature enough to fight, but that didn't mean she would be able to stand seeing just anything.

He had to be more conscientious with how he presented himself. It wouldn't do well for his sister to be terrified of him.

Maybe throwing another celebration would be good.


"Cheers! A job well done! We sure showed those Ildoans!" announced Felix, lifting up a mug.

"They should have known better than to underestimate the combined might of Germania and Osterreich-Ungar!" agreed Matheus.

"They folded so easily after that, it was kind of anti-climatic. Where were the 'heroic last stands' the Ildoans loved so much?" complained Katya.

"They fled just the same as the coward Francois!" added Vooren.

"The Francois sure abandoned their allies fast, the moment we sank one of their ships, they were nowhere to be seen," mocked Petra.

"It's a good thing our allies are much more reliable, isn't it?" commented Viktoriya.

"We're all family now! Here's to our future successes!" proclaimed Katalin.

This successful operation had brought the two Battalions closer than before, it was surely the beginning of a relationship that would one day be recorded in history.



Wien, Capital of Osterreich-Ungar
26th November 1924



Insulting, that was the word Marco Lombadi was thinking of. The barbaric Ostero-Ungarians had done what they did best, destroy. They destroyed the blockade painfully set up by brave Ildoan sailors, they sank the RN Ildoa and they trampled on Ildoa's pride. Finally, they were raring to ruin the maritime economy too. The populace had finally grown sick of the war, leading to the pleas for surrender.

The brutes were celebrating in their newspapers, 'The Southern Dragon reigning supreme over the archaic legions of Roma'. Distasteful, they were such sore winners.

The Treaty was a farce, yet another insult to Ildoa. Ildoa was to rescind all claims on Ostero-Ungarian territory, cede several of their colonies, hand over a few of their remaining warships and still pay twelve billion kronen in reparations. Preposterous!

The Albion had cut off all assistance the moment the blockade fell, feigning ignorance and innocence. So had the Francois, leaving them to fend for themselves physically and economically.

This was all wrong. Yet there was no choice left, it was his head on the line if he didn't accept. Both the citizens and soldiers were sick of the war and Osterreich-Ungar made it very clear that the longer it took to sign the treaty, the more unreasonable the demands would get.

And thus the Treaty of Wien was signed on the 26th of November, 1924. The day Ildoa pulled out of the Great War. With 540,000 casualties, compared to Osterreich-Ungar's 230,000, a shame that would plague Ildoa for a long time to come.


Karl looked at the Ildoan delegate fume as he signed the treaty. The fool must be thinking about how unfair it had been, yet by Karl's standards, this was already very lenient.

The ministers had called him soft when he proposed to let the Ildoans keep Veneto. But there was no sense in reclaiming territory that was sure to rebel, it would only lead to more wars in the future.

Even if they had been just at war didn't mean that they should have a poor relationship. Germania was proof that it was possible for nations once at war to come to an understanding.

Perhaps history would call him Karl the Mild, but it would certainly beat having three wars happen in his lifetime. Karl was happy being unambitious if it meant his people could live in peace.

Perhaps they could even develop their holdings in the southern continent now.


Nagy Henrik sat at the bar, feeling relief for the first time in a while. Threatening to increase the demands had paid off, Ildoa was in no condition to reject.

Having gotten their hands on Ildoan colonies, Osterreich-Ungar prepared for a new challenge. The Kaiser was interested in developing a colony. It would be a strange new age for the Empire, trying for what had once been thought a lost cause.

With the blockade gone, maritime trade had started again. The situation in Osterreich-Ungar was slowly returning to normal. The Germanians would want them to make good on the Alliance, of course. Something that they were more than willing to do now that there was no direct threat to their own peace anymore.

With Ildoa paying for the peace of Osterreich-Ungar, life was slowly getting back to normal. Something to celebrate, if anything.

If he had more time before he had to start negotiations with the Albish, he would have drunk much more. It was a shame that his job was never done.



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
28th November 1924



"So, what do you think, your Highness? Does the 203rd meet your standards?" asked General von Zettour as he looked at the Princess reading the report.

Marianne put down the report, "I suppose it does. I will keep to my promise. You may leave now, I have other things to do."

Locking the door after she confirmed his departure, Marianne picked up a different report, this one about the treaty that had just come into effect.

Karl was so kind, he had barely made any demands even though the Ildoans had given him so much trouble. He could have asked for so much more. It was a shame so many people saw his kindness as weakness, if only her father could see who he truly was.

Well, she had other ways of getting what she wanted.



Port Pula, Osterreich-Ungar
28th November 1924



The Ostero-Ungarian Major looked out the window of his office and at the shipyard where the SMS Roma was undergoing repairs. The 203rd had certainly done well in protecting the vessel. It was a shame that the RN Ildoa had sunk, it would have been amusing to have also captured it as well.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the Phantoms would have to comfort themselves with the idea of capturing the FS Parisii instead. Perhaps one day, they'd challenge the Francois navy straight on.

Now that the situation in Osterreich-Ungar had stabilised, the Phantoms were being 'loaned' to Germania. What an interesting experience, to be under the command of the Germanian General Staff. Hopefully they had the sense to not hold the past against him, it wouldn't be enjoyable for anyone if they kept bringing up how well he defeated them.

Looking at their latest deployment, Marcel stifled a laugh. They were going to the North, back into the cold, to Norden. Where it all began. The beginning of the Great War.



The first foe goes down, is this perhaps a turning point in the war?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
Andrew Reports: The Roma

Andrew Reports: The Roma




Roma, Capital of the Republic of Ildoa
November 1967



The Great War was perhaps one of the most world-changing events in recent history, yet it was still so full of mysteries. Almost every nation in Europa had missing records.

This made Andrew curious, to him it felt like someone was trying to hide something. But so far, he had found nothing looking at the Albish reports. So he decided to check on the records of the first country that left the war. The former Kingdom, now Republic of Ildoa.

Andrew sorted through the few available documents that the Ildoans had of the Great War. There wasn't much to work with, even in the massive archive he stood in, there was only one drawer of relevant information. Nothing about the Adriatic Front.

Even the Albion Kingdom had more documentation of the war, despite never actively participating. However, it was strange that they also had no records of the Adriatic. Did the Ildoans want to hide their shame that badly? Was there another reason?

From general knowledge, the Adriatic campaign was a series of Ostero-Ungarian victories that seemed to counter what was thought possible. At the start of the war, their navy was in such poor condition that they had dozens of incomplete hulls. Yet somehow they managed to complete six battleships within two years.

"Hey Andrew, look at this document, I found it in the unsorted pile," Craig had found something, "22nd April 1924, the RN Roma captured by the Phantoms of Osterreich-Ungar."

"The Phantoms? The SMS Phantom? The Aircraft Carrier? Wait, the Carrier was completed in 1927, it would also be hard for a Carrier to capture a battleship. Something else with the same name?" Andrew pondered.

"Well, that's not all. I also found this one. 20th November 1924, the Adriatic Barrage fell to the SMS Roma and Ozeankaiser."

"It took just seven months for Osterreich-Ungar to dominate the Mediterranean. It really doesn't add up," with how weak they were, they shouldn't have been able to do any of that.

"Well, we could investigate the ship."

"The one sitting at the bottom of the Mediterranean? I imagine we'll be hard pressed to get anything out of it."

"How about the replica, the one in the Ildoan maritime museum? It was built by the Ostero-Ungarians as a gift after the original sank."

"I suppose we could look into it, it's not like we have much else of a lead." confessed Andrew.



Ildoan Maritime Museum, Brindisi
November 1967



The Maritime Museum was built in 1935, becoming a major attraction of Port Brindisi. It held knowledge from the many ages of Ildoa's nautical history. From its best years, to its worst.

Andrew looked at the painting of the Roma hanging in the exhibit, titled 'The Steelclad Titan' by A. Schicklgruber. It was so accurately painted, it almost felt like the artist himself had seen the ship up close. Perhaps it was painted after the war.

"Yes, this is the replica Roma, our Museum Ship," explained the guide, leading them to where the titan rested.

The vessel was impressive to look at, a near identical match to the one in the painting. The Original would have been awe-inspiring when it cut through the waves, but the copy that sat in the wharf was just a relic of the past.

"What can you tell us about the RN Roma during the Great War? Anything about the Phantoms that captured it?" Andrew asked, looking for answers.

The guide scratched his head, "Well, not much personally, I only heard the rumours. They said that the RN Roma was captured by ghosts or demons with otherworldly powers. If I was to guess, it meant that an elite group of Ostero-Ungarian Mages did it. Probably the Phantoms that you mentioned."

"Elite Mages, that would certainly make sense. It could even explain all the victories that seemed impossible. But why would they hide the existence of these Mages? If only we had more clues, it'd be hard to find out more without knowledge of their formation number," Craig mused aloud, "Although, I suppose it would be hard even with the number, the Ostero-Ungarian Empire no longer exists. We can't be sure they even have any records left."

"I doubt they burnt everything from back then, I'm sure we could still find something."

"A trip to Osteria, then?"

"Indeed."

Unravelling the truth behind the war would be a long journey.



A glimpse into the future, a world that has changed from the Great War.


It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
Why Soldiers Fight

Why Soldiers Fight


Tiegenhoff, Germania
<Defunct Timeline>


The golden beam trailed behind Tanya, searing everything behind her. That Mage must have been blessed by Being X, who else could cast such a high powered spell for such a duration?

She turned when she heard a shout, just as a figure came charging at her, barely having enough time to block a strike from the female Mage's rifle.

"I'll send you to hell for my father!" shouted the girl.

Tanya pushed her back, staring right into her golden eyes, "What did I even do to you?"

"I'll never forgive you!" raved the brunette as she continued to push against Tanya.

Tanya took a glance behind her, searching for an opportunity to escape, only to spot a building in their trajectory.

As she crashed into the wall, Tanya woke up.



Plane to Norden, Germania
28th November 1924



Tanya opened her eyes, realising there was a figure looking down at her. It was Lieutenant Morozova, with a worried look on her face.

The redhead spoke in concern, "Are you okay? You looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Ye- No. Katya, it's fine. Did I wake you?"

"No, I was already awake, I have trouble sleeping when it gets too cold. You don't have to deny that you suffer from nightmares, almost everyone has them. Even Marcel- I mean even Major von Bastion has them occasionally."

"It's not that. It's not about anything important. Let's not talk about it anymore. Anyway, aren't you from the Federation? Why the aversion to sleeping in the cold?"

"I'm not from the Federation, I'm from the Russy Empire. It wasn't the place that's the problem, it's what happened there. That's just what happens when you run from the Red Army through fields upon fields of snow. You can't fall asleep, cause you'll never wake up again or… you'd wish you didn't."

"My apologies, sorry for bringing up something so sensitive."

"It's fine, it's been eight or nine years since then. I've made my peace, at least as best I could. Niko on the other hand, he's still upset. He doesn't want to let go of the past, it's kind of why we joined the military. He wanted to be stronger and I had nowhere else to be," Katya looked out the window. "After all, back then we only had each other."

"I see. I suppose it would be nice to have someone always looking out for you."

"You do have people who would do the same for you now. Surely you don't only think of Major von Bastion as your teacher, right?" replied Katya, gesturing to the Major that was sleeping on the floor. Silently giggling at his snores.

"I- no, he saved my life despite it being an illogical choice. Broke the law for me, even."

"It shows how much he cares. You've been accepted into his family. You're not just his student."

There it was again, the word 'family'.

"His family. Right, I owe Amelie just as much. That's… something to think about."


The Sun rose above the mountains, painting it a vibrant orange. One by one, the members of the two battalions began to wake.

Adolphus looked out the window, appreciating the colours of the sky, "Hey Hugo, how do you feel about being back in Legadonia?"

"I've never been to Legadonia, nor can I speak Legadonian. I'm an Ostero-Ungarian. My father was born in Osterreich after his parents moved from Noreg in the fifties," Hugo corrected.

"Case of mistaken nationality, huh? You're not the only one!" laughed Marcel, "Just because I speak Francois doesn't mean I'm from the Republic! Plenty of other full-born Germanians can speak it too."

Upon that remark, plenty of eyes turned to him.

"Did you just say you're Germanian? I thought you were Osterian!" gasped Visha.

"The worst Mage in the history of Germania is Germanian. The historians are going to have a field day," commented Vooren.

"I don't think I've hidden it on purpose. Officially speaking, I am a citizen of both Germania and Osterreich-Ungar, not that I've used my Germanian citizenship since. As for killing Germanians, I'm sure all of you understand by now that war isn't personal, I was just fighting to survive all the same."

"That doesn't exactly sound like an argument most will accept. People will question where your loyalties lie," commented William, trying to wrap his head around the idea.

"If I had to say, my loyalty lies with the people I call my family, not what flag is being flown."

"That's one way to go about framing your disloyalty," Petra laughed, "But at least it's something worth fighting for."

"No, it isn't. Why do we have to fight at all? War is a waste, violence should have never been chosen."

"You have a point, but we're already fighting a war. We have to do the best for the nation we're fighting for," continued William.

"You're a patriot and that's commendable. But you better be strong enough to back up those words, Germania has no use for patriots who die and I don't like people who die either."


As Tanya listened to Marcel's thoughts about war, she found that while his opinion was based on emotions, it had also come to the same conclusion as her logic. War was a waste.

And this war was Being X's fault. Even now she could see his interference over the war. His wretched act destroyed countless lives.

According to her journal, Being X's interference extended to having control of the actions of anyone that prayed enough, herself included. He even had the power to puppet the dead. His blatant disregard for free will made him the epitome of being a control freak.

An example of someone under his control would have been the Mage she saw in her nightmares. That girl had brought her emotions to the battlefield and subsequently become Being X's slave.

Perhaps that meant Marcel was at risk of falling under his control too, he already uses Being X's powers. And with the Phantoms' loyalty to him so strong, there was a chance that all of them could become her enemies.

However, while the Mage in her nightmares hated her, there was no reason for Marcel to do the same. It would take a massive event to change his outlook of her. Hopefully this would prevent any possible conflict. None of the Phantoms were bad people, and that's what made things hard. She really didn't want to have to kill any of them.

In fact, she would rather think about how to deal with the girl instead. She had no way to survive a head-on confrontation without the power of the Type-95. She had to figure out a way to avoid it entirely. She knew that the girl was avenging her father, but how was she supposed to figure out which person not to kill?



Os City, Legadonia
28th November 1924



"Don't go," Mary hugged her father and pleaded.

Anson tried to give his daughter a reassuring pat, but it did little to soothe her. Mary had never approved of his role as a soldier and had asked him many times to find a different line of work.

But it was his duty, he was one of the few Legadonian Mages the country had. Against the likes of Germania and their more numerous Mages, he couldn't back down.

"I'm sorry, but Legadonia needs me."

"What about me? What about mom? We need you too!" she protested.

"I'm doing this to keep you and her safe too. I can't be sure of your safety otherwise."

"We don't have to stay here! We can go elsewhere! Just stay with us!"

Anson didn't reply, all he did was hug her back. Perhaps he could stay for a moment longer.



Norden, Germania
29th November 1924



The mountains and islands of Norden were beautiful. And yet, some failed to appreciate its beauty. Hiding from the cold, they bunker down indoors, refusing to even accept the scenery. What a waste.

Petra von Stahl stifled a sniffle, hiding further into her coat, "Back in the cold again, how wonderful."

"You can say that again. Why couldn't they send us somewhere warmer," agreed Felix, taking a drink of hot chocolate.

"Finding the weather hard to deal with too? Hey, where'd you get the chocolate? Can I have some?" asked Viktoriya, eying his drink greedily.

As he threw a sachet into her hands, Becker replied, "Here you go, the Major placed a rush order with Antonia the moment he got the order for us to be deployed to Norden. We barely got it on the plane in time."

"How'd she get all this anyway? During our time at Port Pula, everytime I ask about where to get something, the answer is always 'look for Antonia'."

"Definitely a smuggling ring, everyone thinks so too. But when she is the only one that can consistently get you the rounds to feed your submachine gun, you stop asking questions," answered Petra.

"I see. That's a fair response. It's just that this isn't exactly a luxury the Germanian army provides."


"I think Osterreich-Ungar provides us with extra funds for this kind of thing. I don't think the Major can afford to pay it all out of his own pockets, not with how often we ordered flour and yeast back in Pula."

"Oh, I do miss the bread you bake. Is it possible you can make more?"

"If the Germanian Administration allows us to bring an oven, I'll get on it."


For some, the cold was an environment to train the body, brush up on their skills. Mastering what at a glance seemed unnecessary.

"I'm surprised someone of your standing would ask me for training in swordplay, from what I heard of your exploits, you tend to use your sword very often," commented Koenig, drawing his sword.

"The only thing I know is that the sharp edge cuts and a Mage Blade will make up for skills I do not have. I don't really need anything more for combat, but Petra has been hounding me about my bladework as a noble and I'm not exactly thrilled to be on the other side of her blade," confessed Marcel, drawing his own sabre.

"Very well, let's start with footwork first. Since you use a sabre, your stance will be different from mine. Let's start with a downward slash."

A swift strike from above splitting the air. With a jerk, the blade was brought back up.

"Your power was there, but you lack control. You overcommitted and stumbled forward. Try to be more natural, you're not cutting anything right now."

"Right. Force of habit, Mage shields tend to give much more resistance."

Explaining with a demonstration, Koenig showed his experience, "Once more, steady your stance."


For others, training the mind was much more important, the future was at stake after all. Hiding away in a quiet room with a reference book was what they needed.

Scrawling the rooms for a place to read, Lotte Klein came upon the giant of the Phantoms. "Oh, Lieutenant Stenberg, I wasn't expecting you here. What are you up to?"

"Lieutenant Klein. Reading up for my Engineering thesis. The deadline is coming up soon, can't waste all the effort put in by Major von Bastion and Captain von Stahl in getting me my place in Engineering College."

"Even at war?"

"Technically speaking, Osterreich-Ungar isn't at war anymore, what the Phantoms are doing is 'voluntary' work. Normal classes actually started back a few days ago. I have a special course due to some strings being pulled. I still have to think about my future."

"I see. Can I use this room too? I promise to be quiet."

"By all means. I don't have any right to deny you access."


But he wasn't the only one preparing for the future with a book. There was someone else doing the same, albeit more on the topic of war than of peace.

Tanya flipped through the pages of her journal relevant to the offensives on Legadonia. There weren't many things to consider, her past self's time here was short with her Battalion only taking part in two major offensives.

"What are you doing here?" asked a voice that came from behind, prompting Tanya to shut her book.

"Nothing much, Lieutenant Morozov. I'm just looking through my journal. Though I do want to return that question to you. What are you doing?" she replied to the male red headed twin.

"I'm not good with people, so I usually come to a quiet spot. I guess it's a coincidence that this spot was already taken by you," Nikolai confessed.

"I can find a different place if you wish."

"No that's fine, you can do whatever you were up to and I'll just be here doing my own thing," he replied, presenting his radio set.

"What are you planning to do with that?"

"Sometimes I monitor for any transmissions. People are very careless, you'd be surprised how often people send unencrypted instructions."

"You don't mind being told to do this?" she questioned.

"I'm not being told to do this. The commander thinks it's not really worth the time put in. But there's something calming about this, I enjoy doing this. I hope the day comes where I can help retake Moskva from the communists."

"You're so different from Katya. She seems like she's given up on going back to Rus."

"Did… did she tell you that? That's not right, she definitely wants to go back for revenge. She's still so full of anger and hate, she can't sleep at night. She's just gotten better at lying to herself about it. That's why I have to make sure we finally deal with the past, it's the only way she'll move on."

"I see…"

Did she really misread Katya that poorly? It seems like the woman had more to her than she once thought.

Was Visha the same? Would she want to go back too?



Northern Army Group Command
30th November 1924



"You brought the Phantoms over? What are you doing, Rudersdorf? You know how the staff feels about those bastards!" shouted the fuming staff member.

"Osterreich-Ungar has sent their best Mages over as a sign of goodwill and yet you're over here complaining about the past?" answered the brigadier general, "Do you want to be the one who tells the princess that she shouldn't have wasted her time negotiating for their assistance?"

"You go too far! I don't know what you and Zettour planned, but you want to give this mission to the Phantoms and a Battalion that has never seen battle in Legadonia?"

"The Argent's Battalion has been sponsored by the princess herself and have received wonderful remarks from the Ostero-Ungarian Navy," corrected general von Rudersdorf, "After looking at their training regiment, I doubt there are any Mages that would be a better fit for our plan."

"The Battalion may have the princess' favour, but she knows nothing about warfare! If she did, she'd have gotten us more Ostero-Ungarian reinforcements."

"Enough! This plan will be enough to take down Legadonia!"

"This is ridiculous! There is no way a less than a hundred Mages will be enough for your plan, when we agreed to your plan, we thought you knew what you were doing!

Their argument was cut short by a knock on the door. A secretary popped their head in, "Major von Degurechaff and Major von Bastion are here."

"Let them in," ordered the brigadier general.

As the door opened further two well known Mages stepped in.

"Greetings," saluted Tanya.

"I extend my greetings to the Northern army," Marcel followed suit.

Annoyed murmurs filled the room upon his entrance, showing just how welcomed he really was in Germania.

Taking it in stride, Marcel made himself at home despite the hostility, even going so far as to request a drink, "I'd like a cup of tea, please. Coffee makes me jittery."

"Please take a seat, we will begin the briefing for the offensive that will be taking place soon," replied General von Rudersdorf.

"This will be an early Winter offensive, while we still have the advantage. The Northern army doesn't have the supplies to last the harsher parts of the winter, so we will have to succeed before then," explained a member of the Northern Staff.

"That's not all, is it? There's no way you plan to succeed in an infantry push right at the start of Winter. Unless you want to bury all your men in the snow, there must be another part to the plan. What's the real operation?" replied Marcel, with a frown.

Tanya already knew what it was going to be. A naval attack on Os City after her Mages took out the Fjord's naval defences, while the infantry acted as a diversion. And she said it out loud, "An attack on the Fjord?"

Everyone in the room became silent. Even Marcel was shocked. She wasn't supposed to know that, they were supposed to tell her what she was doing.

"How did you know? Did someone tell you?" questioned General von Rudersdorf, wary of an information leak.

"I-It was just a guess, after Major von Bastion mentioned that the real operation had to be something besides the winter offensive, I concluded that it had to be an attack on the Fjord. Is it really?"

Everyone seemed to calm down from her explanation, she was a prodigy after all. Well, everyone but Marcel. Once again he had seen through her lies, once again he had decided not to mention it.

It was within this moment of peace where the secretary brought in their drinks. A cup of black tea for Marcel. For her, a cup of coffee… with milk. Even now people still treated her like a child.

Clearing his throat to break the silence, general von Rudersdorf answered her, "Yes, that is correct. The Mages of the 203rd Germanian and 111th Ostero-Ungarian Battalions will be dropped by plane to take out the Naval Batteries before the North Sea Fleet comes in."

"Oh my, yet another Naval Battle, the Phantoms are going to be upset. When is this operation?" said Marcel, taking a sip of his tea.

"Three days from now."

In surprise Marcel spat out his tea.

"You have to be joking."



North Sea Fleet Home Port, Germania
30th November 1924



Felix looked at the painting before him and scratched his chin,"I don't know, I feel like this painting is too deep for me."

With a sigh, Adolphus responded, "Felix, this is literally just a painting of a bunch of soldiers manning a naval gun."

"But why are they in dresses?"

"Because I thought it would be funny?"

"I-" Felix began only to be interrupted by a ringing bell.

"No!" shouted Adolphus in response to the infernal sound.

All over the port, the Phantoms began to jolt to attention. They all knew what the accursed sound meant: it was time to be serious. They rushed to the source of the noise, the bell where both Petra and Katya were.

"Sixteen minutes. Horrible," evaluated Petra as the last of the Phantoms formed up.

"I will now begin the briefing," announced Katya, "The Major has received our latest instructions. In three days we will have an operation."

"The Major isn't back yet, so I want to complete a round of training before he returns! Prepare your equipment and gather here in twenty minutes!" continued Petra before she turned to look at the few members of the 203rd that had gotten curious, "I think your battalion should get ready too."

Upon hearing the news, the Phantoms were whipped into a frenzy, rushing about the camp borrowing gun oil, maintaining their weapons and checking their equipment. The playful Phantoms turned into efficient soldiers in the blink of an eye, putting the Germanian Mages to shame with their intensity. They had no time to joke around, they were on the clock. All they could do was complain about their Germanian slave drivers.

In a few minutes, both battalions were up in the sky.

"Fly like you mean it! I don't want to see anyone lagging!" shouted the Noblewoman.

"Why did the commanders put her in charge? Shouldn't you be leading us?" lamented Vooren.

"Shush, if she hears you it's only going to get harder," replied his company lead.

"What's that? You want to repeat a few more rounds in the sky? By all means, let's go!"

"Damn it," they said in unison.


While the two Battalions were suffering through last minute training by Petra, their two commanders were suffering having the full weight of the operation put upon their shoulders.

Having sent his telegram to his second, Marcel grasped at his hairs, "Damn it! This operation is even riskier than breaking the blockade. Why do you Germanians insist on putting deadlines on everything?"

"You're Germanian too. If we don't act fast the Albish navy might get in our way. We already know they are providing arms to the Legadonians, just like they did for the Ildoans."

"And the Ostero-Ungarians," he added, "I doubt the two-faced Albish will directly interfere. There's nothing for them to gain by joining in officially, they will likely continue to profit from it by providing loans to everyone. The northern Francois fleet might interfere, but they're probably as cowardly as their southern brethren."

"Maybe you're right. But we have to prepare for every possibility. The Grand Fleet is not a force to be trifled with."

"Yes, yes. I do agree with you, I wouldn't want to fight them either. The Phantoms will be backing you up directly. We'll be under your commands this time, so don't forget to utilise us."

"Speaking of command, are you sure it was a good idea to leave Captain von Stahl in charge?"

"Nope. She'd drive everyone into the ground. But if I didn't, she'd subvert the authority of whoever was in charge on the grounds that they don't have experience training flight Mages. It always ends up the same anyway. That woman is an elitist, she needs to prove her superiority."

With a look of disbelief at the nonchalance of her mentor, Tanya found herself wondering whose way of doing things was better. His usually lax method seemed to be effective at controlling his subordinates, seeing their sudden change in attitude the moment he tightened the leash. He knew he could count on them to be serious when the time came. Could Tanya say the same for her 203rd? With more doubt, her confidence wavered.

"Do you think I'm running my Battalion wrong?"

"Where'd your confidence go? Each member of your Battalion is an individual, you have to tailor your methods based on both their needs and yours. I cannot say if running a tight ship will suit you, but it doesn't work for me. You should go with what feels right. Because at the end of the day, as long as you reward them for a job well done, it'll work out."

"I think I do that last bit just fine."

"Really now? Guess you'll be able to organise the next party yourself."

"Challenge accepted! Prepare to eat your words."

"There's the confident Degurechaff I know! I'm looking forward to the celebration already!"



Osfjord, Legadonia
1st December 1924



Colonel Anson Sue looked at his family photo with worry. Ever since he came back to the fjord, he felt something was wrong. The sense of unease only grew stronger as the days passed and today it was at its peak.

Something big was about to happen. Was it a sign of things to come? He couldn't help but feel that Legadonia was going to fall.

Where were these horrible thoughts coming from? What was this despair he was feeling?

Oh Mary, what was he supposed to do?



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Kysll had opted to start clearing out the souls that had come in during the war instead of observing. But ignoring the issues certainly wasn't the way to go. He was in over his head. Bringing order out of a world at war was proving to be too much. So much for being a God. The mortals that met him must be so disappointed.

Perhaps he would be better off asking for additional assistance? What would Ita do? How about Luma or Helix? Could they solve his problem? Hell, maybe he should ask Kaios. His brother always did have an interest when it came to matters of war.

Writing up a request to his higher ups, Kysll decided to make a change to his life.

He was going to get help.



Oh dear. The 203rd and the Phantoms have made it to Norden. What could happen?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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A Winter Offensive During an Offensive Winter

A Winter Offensive During an Offensive Winter




St Gertrude Orphanage
1913



The boy pushed open the window of his room, taking a look around before jumping out. He looked behind him one more time before running out to the streets, towards the town.

"This is crazy! You're only ten! What are you planning to do? Are you going to keep hiding until she finds you? Berun is huge! Stop this insanity right now!"

Marcel covered his ears, a useless action considering the fact that the voice was coming from inside his head. Despite having lived with the voice almost all his life, he didn't like it very much, it always disagreed with him.

Yet… it was always right, it always had a logical argument. Every time he ignored it, he suffered. The scars and burns he suffered proved that most of the time, the voice knew better, that he should have listened.

"Stop right now! God damn you, turn around! Your mother definitely loves you, she just has more responsibilities now!"

Marcel missed his old home, he missed the studio… and he missed his only friend. The orphanage was a horrible place, it had taken the last thing Marcel cared about.

"Shut up! Shut up! She doesn't care, she only cares about those stupid kids! Stupid Bruno, stupid Maria, stupid Hans! Stupid, stupid, stupid! She's my mother, not theirs!" he shouted back.

"You can't survive the streets alone! You have no skills, no money, nothing! You're useless! Go back to the orphanage!"

Marcel gripped the cursed silver medal tighter. It was the only thing he had taken with him, the only remnant he had of his father. He had never met the man, nor did he even bother to remember the man's name. Why would he care about a man that left for the southern continent before he was even born? Why would he care about a man that died there before he even turned three?

Why would he care about the man that left behind this accursed medal? It was only a useless piece of metal, it may look pretty and be made of silver, but it had no value to him. He would sell it and buy his mother a new life outside the orphanage. He would get his mother back from those stupid children.

Finally, Marcel made it to the town, keeping out of sight, he used the alleys instead of the main streets. At last, he came up to a pawn shop. He pushed on the door, checking if the store was still open. A ding of the bell announced his entrance to the owner.

"How can I help you? Here to buy something?"

Marcel placed the silvered ornament on the counter, "I want to sell this."

Upon seeing the medal, the shopkeep frowned, "I can't take this, kid. These are Silver Wings, they're numbered. I don't know where you stole it from, but it's illegal to buy or sell them."

"You have no way to get money. Go back now."

With urgency, Marcel insisted, "But I need money."

"Go look somewhere else, then. Go find work. And take the stupid thing with you. I don't want the police to come knocking about a stolen medal."

Leaving the shop, Marcel looked around in disappointment. Look for a job, the man had said.

"Go. Back. To. The. Orphanage."

It was then Marcel saw the flyer. 'Calling for fighters,' it said. He could fight, that was the only thing he was good at.

"No you're not. You aren't remotely suited for this. They don't mean the backyard brawls you have. Stop this, you're going to die. You're ten, dammit!"

In a stubborn fit, Marcel ran further into the town. He wasn't going to give up that easily.



North Sea Port, Germania
1st December 1924



Marcel looked out the window, looking at the sky slowly turning from black to red, his father's Silver Wings grasped tightly in his hand.

The Medal may be one of the most prestigious to ever been given out by the Germanian military, but what did that matter? It was as useless to him now than it was to him back then. They forgot all about their hero in mere months, the pittance they sent barely enough for a widow and a single child to survive. By the time they had moved to Berun, the allowance had all but faded into history. His mother had to turn to the Orphanage to raise him. A sacrifice that Marcel had failed to appreciate.

Marcel didn't even know his father's name. He hated the nameless man way too much to bother learning it, he hated never having met him and he hated that the man had put fighting for Germania before being with the woman pregnant with his child.

But he also hated the Germanian military that had sent his father to his death and forgot about his sacrifice. And finally he hated that even after going through all that, he was still fighting all the same. He was hypocritical, still fighting in a war while his mother was worried sick. He was standing on a wire, just one fatal step away from ending up the same as his father.

If things were different, he would have deserted already. But he had so much he cared for, so many people to worry about. He couldn't leave them to fend for themselves, especially not Tanya. But his brave front could only go so far, he could joke and act all he wanted, but he was still afraid of dying and leaving everything behind.

Marcel knelt down in front of the window, fingers interlaced and prayed with all his heart. For deliverance, for guidance, for protection. And a final one: for salvation.

Calming his heart and his mind, he put his gear on. Along with his facade of confidence.

They had a Fjord to take. He couldn't falter.



St Gertrude Orphanage
1st December 1924



Amelie sat at the window, looking out towards the town. Her two children were in Norden now, risking their lives against the Legadonians that started all this. Yet those damn Legadonians dared to claim that they were liberating Norden.

It pained Amelie to think about Marcel and Tanya spending their youth fighting tooth and nail for a war that they didn't start. The Legadonians had caused countless deaths for land that wasn't even theirs.

She couldn't bear to see her children suffer out there. She knew that they were fighting for a just cause, but two decades haven't been enough to dull the pain of losing someone she loved, she couldn't bear to have it happen again.

She got down on her knees, "Oh lord, please end this war so that my children may come home safely."



Os City, Legadonia
2nd December 1924



In the predawn hours, Mary brought her pen down upon the paper. She was a simple girl who loved her father very much. However, she didn't like that his job was so dangerous. Especially now that Legadonia was at war. She desperately pleaded with her father, asking him not to leave. But she knew he would put his duty first. So all she could do was to write to him, wishing him the best.

A sudden pain filled her, she grasped at her chest at the sudden surge of adrenaline. This was the second time this has happened… her father was in danger again!

The first time she had felt this discomfort was the day the war began. Legadonia had mustered their best to reclaim their territory, but the bastard Germanians forced them into retreat.

Back then, her brave father had to pull back after some of his men were killed. But now he was defending Osjord, this unease could only mean one thing. Osjord was in danger.

But what could she do? What could she do besides pray?

"Lord, in all your kindness, please deliver my father from evil. Protect him so that he may come home."



Plane Over Osfjord
2nd December 1924



The rattle of the plane was unnerving. The success of the North Sea Fleet hinged on the success of the passengers of this aircraft.

It would be the biggest operation both battalions had ever participated in. Within thirty minutes they were to disable the entire Fjord's defences. It was much harder than the attack on Brindisi. If they failed, it would be a naval disaster that made the Ildoan's final defence of their blockade look like a minor mistake. It was a gamble like no other.

"111th drop point in 10!" announced the pilot, the doors of the plane opening.

Looking at his battalion, Marcel spoke, "Well, this is our stop. A prayer for old times?"

"Always, Major," answered Katya, speaking for the entirety of the Phantoms.

"Let's try something bigger this time. Oh lord, in your grace and might, deliver us from danger and give us the strength to protect our ideals," Marcel began, a golden glow filling his right eye, a golden shield surrounding each mage in the plane, both the Phantoms and 203rd.

A sudden shortness of breath, Marcel grasped the closest handle he could reach.

Catching his breath, Marcel continued, "Hah, the first time I ever tried a mass shield so large. Hope it protects you guys. Phantoms, let's go!"

One by one the Phantoms jumped out of the plane and followed him, shouting their motto along the way, "Phantome sterben nie!"


As the Phantoms slowly became specks in the sky, Tanya looked at the gilded shield Marcel had cast.

"That's an impressive spell," commented Matheus, looking at the faint glimmer of the shield.

It was barely noticeable, were it not for the flashy activation of the spell, she would have probably missed it.

She hadn't expected such a massive spell would be possible for a Combat Mage, it would have been hard even for a seasoned Support Mage to do.

The power being X had granted him was no joke, if Tanya had no quarrel with the being, she might have freely requested for his aid. But he had infringed on her freedom and she would repay him with defiance. This was one advantage she wouldn't be taking.

"203rd drop point in 10!" confirmed the pilot.

She faced her battalion, hyping them up, "Look alive, 203rd! We have thirty minutes to ruin their day, so make it count!"



Osfjord, Legadonia
2nd December 1924



Anson rubbed his eyes, he had barely slept a wink. The feeling of discomfort he had felt yesterday had persisted up till the morning. But nothing had happened, the feeling had come and gone.

He was about to head back in before the sky was lit up by enchanted rounds followed by the ground being shaken by explosions. Alarms flared all over the fortification, the Batteries were under attack!

How did enemy Mages get so far? How did they evade detection? The sensors hadn't detected their entry, only their attack.

He had celebrated too early, the unsettling feeling in his gut had subsided too soon, Colonel Anson Sue prepared his men for combat. This was a battle for the future of their Fatherland.

Instantly realising their goal, Anson shouted at his men, "They're targeting the guns! They are preparing for a Naval attack!"


"Enemy Mage battalion spotted!" announced Visha.

The Legadonian Mages had responded fast. It was likely their Commander knew what he was doing. Tanya needed to intercept them.

"Company one with me! We have mages to defeat! The rest of the companies continue with the mission!"

Despite their camouflage, shots started hitting their shields with increasing frequency. Something was wrong. It was almost as if their enemy could still see them.

More rounds, more hits.

"Bring down your camouflage! They can still see you! Change formation!"

The enemy had overcome the camouflage tactic. It was a shame, but she had expected it to happen eventually, no tactic lasts forever.


The armour on the batteries had proven much sturdier than the guns of Ildoan warships. There was little use attacking them from the outside, only the strongest of explosive spells could pierce the structures.

The Flame and Vanguard Mages had to capture their targets through close quarters combat, a process that mirrored the capture of the Roma, with Mages tearing through any weak spots they could find in order to clear their objective as fast as possible.

The defensive crews within the Batteries were ill prepared for the Phantom's assault. The Non-Mages were unable to defend from the superior firepower of the Ostero-Ungarian Mages. Burnt flesh and shredded bodies littered the area.

"Wisp reporting to Wraith, area secured and moving northward to clear the central sector!"

"Roger, Wisp! Reapers report!" .

"Heavy resistance at sector two! Machine gun emplacements preventing full control over the sector! Clearing them slowly!"

"Banshee Company has cleared sector 3, heading to assist Reaper Company!"

Things were going well, there was barely any Legadonian mage resistance. Perhaps it was really true that Legadonia didn't have the resources to stage many mages.

At this rate, the Phantoms would be hitting their objective on time.

"One more push! Let's go, Phantoms!"


Anson cursed his luck, his battalion was being held back by a single company. They weren't trying to overpower his men, only to prevent them from assisting the defenders of the fortification. The company was dangerous, having maimed or killed any mage that tried to leave the area.

Worse still was that he recognised their commander through her stature. It was the mage that had taken the lives of five of his men in the failed border crossing. She had only grown more dangerous since then. Anson had to remind himself that she was a weapon, not a child. No matter how much she reminded him of Mary, she was a threat. Her mana signature matched the ones provided by Republic intelligence: The Devil of the Rhine.

She no longer hid behind her camouflage spell, conserving her mana for more dangerous offensive spells instead. The rest of the Germanian Mages followed suit, rendering the advantage given by the Francois-made mana-lens moot. They had figured out the trick before any real damage could be done to them.

"First Company, we need to break through! We can't get stuck fighting a single company! Focus your fire on their left flank!"


The Legadonian Mages were starting to focus on the weaker members of the company, they were rushing to break out.

"Pixie 08 and 10 cover Pixie 11! Visha, cover me! I'm going to take on their Commander!"

"Roger, Major!" replied Visha, her shovel quite literally disarming a Legadonian Mage.

As Tanya closed the distance between them, dispatching any Mage that got in her way, she noticed that the enemy commander had turned his focus on her as well.

The enemy Commander had no illusions around how dangerous she was, and he was prepared to treat her like the threat she was. If only the enemy would underestimate her due to her size. She'd have to fight him properly.


With her stature, the Devil had quite an advantage, her much smaller mass and outline allowed her to dance around the rain of lead. The rounds that did land glanced off a familiar golden shield.

The shield itself was not the issue. It was the Mage who had casted it that was worrying, the Blond that spoke Francois. His mana signature revealed his identity as a first-class Mage. He was nearby, a second threat to be defeated, but first Anson needed to deal with the Devil before him.

"Third Company, combined spell! Take out their Commander!" ordered Anson, giving his men the signal to fire.

Several high powered spells started to track her, homing in on her mana signature. As they struck their target it looked like they had succeeded, only for a familiar golden glow to appear from behind the dispersing smoke.

"Again! Shoot down the Devil of Rhine!"


As the shield that Marcel had cast held strong against the second volley of spells, Tanya found herself confused.

She had counted on the spell from failing on her, considering Being X's disdain for her continued existence. Just what was he playing at?

Just as the Legadonian Mages prepared for their third attack, they were scattered by an attack from the Germanian Mages, giving Tanya an opening to strike directly at their Commander. Her bayonet enchanted, she charged.

Only to be blocked by an enemy Mage putting himself in front of her target. The foolish subordinate took the attack straight on, sacrificing himself for his Commander.


"Watch out!" a voice shouted.

Anson watched as one of his subordinates pushed him out of the way before taking the Devil's attack.

"Lieutenant, no!"

Another young life wasted. Was it an act of heroism or foolishness?

Before he could launch another attack against the Devil, a massive volley from the south took the lives of even more of his men. A regiment of Imperial Naval Mages. Behind them, the Germanian North Sea fleet.

Their advantage of numbers had evaporated. They were now the ones outnumbered. The battle was lost.

"Pull back!" he ordered, retreat was their only option.


The North Sea fleet was here, but were the defences disabled?

"Report! Are the batteries clear?" Tanya queried, hoping for good news.

"Company two, sector cleared!"

"Company three, area secured!"

"Company four, batteries disabled!"

"Phantom 01 reporting to Pixie 01, South and Central defences cleared. Only minor resistance left."

A success, that was all Tanya could think about. Even as the guns of the warships boomed, even as naval crafts landed. It was done, the operation was over.

With that, she let out a sigh of relief.



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
3rd December 1924



Marianne looked at the report from the northern command detailing the Battalion she had invested in.

'Under the leadership of Major Tanya von Degurechaff, the 203rd Germanian Aerial Mage Battalion and 111th Ostero-Ungarian Special Mage Battalion have successfully disabled the defences of Osjord, allowing for a naval invasion.'

Marianne was impressed with just how much the Battalion had achieved in such a short time. General von Zettour was right, that little girl had proven to be a sound investment. Every one of the 203rd's successes improved her standing before the military and public.

Perhaps this would be her path to claiming the crown, proving that she was capable of leading the empire to a grander future. If she could prove her capacity to be a ruler was higher than Otto's she would be able to persuade her father.



Kopenhagen, Germania
6th December 1924



Sitting in the restaurant, Tanya breathed a sigh of relief, the hardest part of the operation was over; the planning of the party.

After proving the value of her Battalion in Norden, the higher ups had authorised her request for R&R without question. It was nice that the Empire was a meritocracy.

"I dedicate this toast to Captain von Stahl and her 350th confirmed Mage kill! How does it feel to overshadow every other Phantom in bloodshed?" announced Marcel, as he lifted a glass of grape juice.

"Even after you put it that way, I have to say that it feels very nice to be the best at something," replied the heiress as she laughed haughtily.

The Phantoms laughed at the joke, horrifying the regular customers of the restaurant.

"I thought you said you'd be on your best behaviour," Tanya scolded as Marcel sat back down.

"I am, and what could be better than celebrating a major milestone? I want to keep morale up and I definitely don't want them thinking about all the blood they've spilled in a negative way."

Tanya thought about his words for a moment. He was treating their enemies like numbers because he didn't want his men thinking about the enemy as more than that. He didn't want them to feel guilty.

Planning the celebration had been harder than she expected, there were only so few restaurants in Norden that were ready to serve soldiers. How did the Phantoms plan such big events so easily?

It was surprising that even while she was planning, Marcel had made additional arrangements. He had sourced simple clothes for each member of the two battalions, allowing every single person here to be dressed in civilian attire, herself included. Were it not for the fact that several of them were in bandages, they would have fit in perfectly with the civilians.

Finally, the rowdy group finished their meal and started heading off to explore the city. At least, that was before Marcel commandeered most of her subordinates, citing that the boys were going to play, leaving her to the whims of the women of both battalions.

Being her size, they had no trouble getting her to participate in their itinerary, the first place being a clothing store. How troubling.

"I think this dress suits her more," said Petra as she held up a frilly pink dress.

"No, the commander looks better in this," argued Visha as she held up a green dress.

"That's the exact same colour as the Germanian uniform, that won't do."

"But she looks good in that green!" protest Visha.

"How about this? It's simple in design and not too elaborate. I feel it suits her," commented Katya, holding up a red blouse.

"That's so bland!"

Tanya looked at the civilian shirt and trousers Marcel had gotten her. How was it that he could understand her tastes while all these women couldn't? It was unbearable, being forced into one dress after another listening to them coo about how cute she was.

She could understand Visha and Petra, they were pretty lady-like when off the field, but she would never have expected Ms. tougher-than-a-Russy-winter to be interested in dressing her up as well. This was more embarrassing than that time Lieutenant Colonel Lehrgen saw her in that stupid propaganda dress, she had to see these people everyday!

Her only respite was that there was a second focus for the ordeal, Captain Pek was searching for dresses herself, capturing the attention of those who would like to gossip about love. After all, she was the only one here that seemed to have any marriage prospects.

Finally with a multitude of clothes picked out for Tanya, Petra paid for all of them out of her own pockets. An act of generosity that had made Nicole jealous, dearly missing the past where she still held prestige.

As they made their way back to the garrison, Tanya realised that despite being military women, the female members of both battalions were still very much women. Something that Tanya wondered if she would ever want to understand.

As the festivities came to a close, Captain von Stahl received a phone call and excused herself. That would be the last time Tanya saw her before she disappeared.



Norden Garrison, Germania
6th December 1924



Marcel found Petra waiting for him in a state of distress shortly after a night's out with the guys, sober enough to understand that something was wrong but too drunk to worsen things with a snide comment.

"What's wrong, Petra? You…uh, don't look so great," he said, trying to properly focus on the noble lady who was close to tears. He was probably not in the best state to be a shoulder to cry on.

"Marc-Major! I am requesting permission to return back to Wien. My father's condition got worse, he's bedridden. I need to go home, I need to be by his side. Please Major! I-I….."

"I see, I'll notify Germanian Command, just pack your things and I'll have you sent home as fast as possible," he acceded.

A look of relief began to form over her face. Thanking her superior, she excused herself.

Marcel headed towards the closest bush and cast a detoxification spell on himself. Straightening his collar, he headed to the administrative building.

"Can't believe I find her easier to deal with when she isn't half in tears. I wish I was better at dealing with crying women."



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Kysll looked at the four entities he had enlisted the help of, three of his friends and his elder brother.

"Kysll, I don't mean to be rude but what exactly do you expect we can help you with? Besides Kaios, none of us have experience in administration," commented Luma as she turned to look at Helix and Ita.

"I just wanted to see things from another point of view. I've barely started administrating this world myself," he replied while looking at her glowing crown.

"Diagnosis complete. Abnormality Identified: Too many Blessed mortals," commented Ita.

Sighing, Kysll lamented, "There's really nothing I can do about that, I can't rescind blessings given by the previous administrator."

"Let me give you less obvious advice, then. You're so focused on this war in the central area that you've failed to notice that there's another Empire in the east that is absolutely dominating," commented Kaios, pointing at the massive Empire slowly encroaching upon the Ajia continent: The Akitsushima Dominion.

"I didn't think it mattered. They were barely waging any wars. They have no hostilities with other powerful nations besides the one to their northwest!"

"That's exactly the issue, they eventually will and when that happens you'll see another massive war. And while we're on the topic, those 'Atheists' to their northwest must go. They've set up labour camps for goodness' sake!"

"What's wrong with labour camps? Aren't they just places where mortals do work? I mean it's in the name, Labour means work! Not exactly sure why it's a camp. It's probably inefficient to camp for work, but there's hardly anything wrong with that."

"Kysll, labour camps are where mortals are sent to work to their deaths," Helix replied exasperatedly, his six eyes each staring at one of the many different nations that were at war.

"What the fuck, how was I supposed to know that? Damn the useless asshat that left this mess of a world to me. Now I have to end a damn war."

"Logical Observation: To end a war, one side must completely crush their enemies' will to continue hostilities, even in the future. Conclusion: Deity designated Kysll must pick a side. Additional Recommendation: Use an Avatar to manage the world."

"Pick a side? But that wouldn't be fair to all who pray, how can I only grant some prayers and not others? Even then, I can't stop prayers from being granted to the Blessed, those are automatic. The only reason why the war even started was because of my meddling, that's why I'm staying neutral."

"Argument: Being neutral will only lead to prolonged suffering. Friendly Suggestion: Deity designated Kysll should recalibrate worldview."

"I'm with Ita on this, if you want to end the war faster, one side needs to overwhelm the other quickly. A war drags on when both sides have equal power. Pick the side that is currently winning and prevent other nations from joining the war."

"You just have to stop granting prayers of strength to the second side, really. You can still grant other types, as long as they don't give the mortals more fighting power."

"Your Avatar is important too, it'll give you greater flexibility in managing the world on a more detailed scale. Every deity will eventually have to use one, it's about time you start too. You'll need them if you wish to take on the Blessed effectively."

Suppressing a sigh, Kysll responded, "Fine, I'll pick a side, then an Avatar. Thanks for the advice, I guess."

"Only the best for my brother."



Londinium, Capital of the Albion Kingdom
7th December 1924



"Yes sir, we look forward to your cooperation," smiled Henrik as he helped the Albish diplomat into the car. As soon as he was sure the car was out of sight, his smile melted away and was replaced with a sigh as he opened the umbrella.

Nagy Henrik liked the sights the Albish had to offer. As for the weather, it could be better. The food? The less said about it, the better.

He had successfully convinced the Albish to stay "neutral" when it came to dealing with the Legadonians. After all, the Albish had more pressing concerns in their Southeast Ajian colonies. They didn't need to give themselves more trouble by worrying about a minor dispute in Europa. They could leave it to Germania and Osterreich-Ungar to settle. Besides, it wasn't like anyone actually liked the Republic.

It was nice to see that some countries were more open to negotiations than others. Unlike those insufferable Rus communists, dealing with the Albish had been infinitely easier. What a joke, as if anyone would be willing to sell arms to a nation threatening to undermine the very fabric of their society.

Luggage in hand, Henrik hailed a cab to the airport. He had a flight to the Unified States to catch. Hopefully they had real food over there, his morale needed a boost.




Even with successes piling up, the unprecedented could happen. What could possibly happen now?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
Chosen by God, or a Hero Insane

Chosen by God, or a Hero Insane


Os City, Legadonia
7th December 1924



Mary looked at the case that she had purchased from the Albish man. A 'special offer' he had called it, something she would want to give her father.

Opening the case, she looked at what was within. It was a gun, what else could it have been? Her father was a soldier, what else could he need besides a weapon to protect the nation with?

Mary took out the Waldstatte-made submachine gun and thumbed over the now engraved initials of her father, which coincidental was the same as that of the armoury.

This gun wasn't going to save his life. She knew that much from the nightmares that have haunted her for at least a decade. He would die and this gun would fall into his killer's hands. Mary would eventually meet that devil.

While she couldn't remember the details of the nightmares beyond that, she knew that this was the only way things could go. Her father would continue to fight even as the nation began to crumble under the Germanian assault and he would undoubtedly die.

All she could do was avenge him when the time came.

Anson Sue truly was too loyal for his own good.


8th December 1924


"The Albish have agreed to host our government-in-exile," said councillor Abensoll, looking at the telegram.

"Looks like even they couldn't stay neutral as the Germanians started occupying Os with their troops. With their help, Legadonia can fight one more day," replied councillor Korsor.

"That is hard to say, what would the citizens think about their government running away?"

"They will understand once we show them our plans."

"I hope you're right."



North Sea Port
10th December 1924



Looking at the map once more, Tanya tried to envision the upcoming search and destroy mission.

The Legadonian surface fleet planned to escape and thus an operation to hunt them down was being planned. They could not be allowed to join up with the Francois naval forces.

She couldn't let the fleet escape so easily this time. She had messed up the first time chasing an Albish civilian ship and almost creating a diplomatic incident. She would not let herself get distracted by the Albish and focus on the actual target.

As she continued to look at the notes, a knock on her door caught her attention, with Marcel's voice coming right after, "Are you busy? I need a moment of your time."

"No, I'm free, you can come in."

Letting himself in, Marcel placed a case on her desk and looked at the notes she had added to the map, "Is there any real need to plan for this? It's just capturing a defeated Navy, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but who knows what might go wrong, the operation is awfully close to Albish waters. Who knows what the 'neutrals' might do."

"The Albish aren't going to do anything. They're busy with their colonies. Give the North to us, the Phantoms are a little short handed today. They need something easy, to take their minds off… Well, you know. "

That was right. The Phantoms had lost someone. They were all moody and half-hearted now.

"Fine, you take the North, I'll take the South, I'll let your Phantoms do what they want this time." Tanya accepted the request.

"Thank you. With that out of the way, let's get to why I'm here. You've heard about Petra- Captain von Stahl. She wants to apologise for leaving without mention."

"Gone to see her father. I understand that we all have our priorities and I won't blame her for it."

Even if having her firepower around would have been preferable.

"I'm sure she'll be glad to know that. But she wanted to pass this to you," Marcel continued, tapping on the case on the desk with his knuckles and gesturing for her to open it.

With two audible clicks, Tanya opened it. Inside lay a gun she knew well enough. Petra von Stahl's Steyr.

"She's letting me have this? She's not coming back, is she?"

"I can't say for certain, she may come back, but it's going to be a long while. One way or another, she told me she wanted you to have it, she couldn't stand seeing you use the Mondragón any longer. She said it was time you started using a proper noble woman's weapon," he replied, trying to remain serious.

Grasping the gun in her hands and feeling its weight, Tanya asked, "Could you tell me how to contact her? I want to thank her."

"I'll write down her address. Now let's give it a test run, why don't we? Get you used to the feeling of Osterian steel in your hands."



Port Arnelsne, Legadonia
10th December 1924



Mary had hugged her father for the last time. She watched as he stood at the pier, waving Mary and her mother.

Mary couldn't bear to look at him any longer, she was beginning to tear up. Despite knowing what would happen, she was still filled with fear of losing him again.

Try as she might to pretend those dreams were merely dreams, she couldn't. The nightmares only grew greater with time, turning from occasional night terrors to an unease that persisted even during the daylight hours.

Mary had once again tried to convince her father not to go fight after the loss of the Fjord in an attempt to challenge fate, but he was too much of a good man. He couldn't let others fight in his place, he couldn't let others die for him.

Whispering to the wind, Mary gave her final goodbye to the best father anyone could ask for, "Make sure you shave the next time we meet."


Anson wished to follow his wife and daughter up the ship. But he had no choice, he was a soldier. He had to protect Legadonia, it was his responsibility.

He stared into the distance as the ship sailed off into the horizon, taking his heart along with it.

"You shouldn't leave something so dangerous lying around, Anson," came the voice behind him.

It was Councillor Cazor with the gift Mary got him in hand.

"Dangerous? What did she get?"

"Open it somewhere more discreet."

Doing as requested, Anson opened the case far from prying eyes.

"A Waltstatten Submachine gun? How did she get one?"

"An Albish 'Diplomat' saw her crying at the park and offered to sell it to her."

Anson studied the gun from the stock to the barrel, noticing the carved initials. Mary had gotten him something priceless. It was a good gun, maybe even good enough to take out an Ace of Aces.



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Kysll looked at the possible candidates to be his Avatar. There were so many Blessed available, his predecessor really made one hell of a mess.

Filtering out those from nations not involved in the 'Great War' had been a necessity. That action alone had cut down most of the options. Why did the previous Administrator scatter all the Blessed over so many places, surely he didn't expect every country in the world to join the war. That would be catastrophic, to say the least.

Within the countries tied to the war, there were three major abnormalities. The first was a Blessed with three blessings. The second, one that has never used her blessing in her entire life. While the last had an archaic blessing that was rarely ever given. It was almost as if they were given out at random.

Picking one of them would be a good idea. They were much more powerful than the other options. Because the one with three blessings had moved to a country uninvolved in the war, he only had to pick from the remaining two. Both of which happen to be on the same side of the war.

The one that had never triggered her blessings was probably out, she probably never had any faith in the first place. Such wasted potential, she would be able to do so much if she just had a figment.

That left someone Kysll was actually quite familiar with. The Blessed had made great strides in the war, even going so far as to have won a Battle of Wills.

Surely this mortal would want to end the war as well.



North Sea
11th December 1924



The Phantoms patrolled high above the seas, searching for any fleeing Legadonian vessels.

"Major, I know where Petra went, but where's Niko?" asked Katya, as she tugged at the straps of the radio set she had to wear instead.

Looking up from his binoculars, Marcel replied, "I'm not allowed to say, nor do I really know. He told me he got a special task from High Command. In fact, he left quite early last night."

"He never tells me anything anymore, he must be getting rebellious. I need to have a talk with him."

"I'll leave you to it then," laughed Marcel, moments before his tone changed to one of urgency, "There are a bunch of Legadonian vessels coming in from the northeast! Phantoms, remember that we are only allowed to shoot at Legadonian and Francois vessels. Offer them a chance to surrender once you've disabled their movement!"

"A chance to surrender? That's not how we usually do things. Why the change, Major?"

"Well, we're flying awfully close to Albish waters here. We definitely don't want to give them a reason to interfere, the last thing we need is for them to join the war accusing us of committing war crimes. But honestly, it's because I have a headache and am not in the mood to shed blood today," he replied with a tired expression," Besides, Tanya said she'd take care of most of the issues on her end, we'll just have to clean up after her."

"Did you hear what the commander just said? Clean up after the 203rd?" Katya asked the radio, "No way! We're gonna capture more ships than them! Phantoms, engage!"


Tanya evaluated the defences on the Legadonian vessels. As far as she could tell, there were no ships to be wary of. Besides the mounted machine guns, the other armaments were meant for larger targets, too slow to take down Mages. Their only threat was Legadonia's own Mages.

It was a simple task, except for one detail. Tanya looked up at the encroaching dark clouds, a storm was brewing and they would be unable to complete the task under those conditions.

"First and Second companies will cover Third and Forth while they target the ships. Do not let a single one of them escape into the storm! I want every single one of those ships disabled before the North Fleet even gets here! Do not be complacent! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Major!" acknowledged her company heads.

"Good! Move out!"


Things weren't looking good. The battle at Osfjord had already heavily damaged the morale of the troops. The fact that they were helping a member of the government flee didn't sit well with some of the more patriotic soldiers either.

Looking at his remaining men, Anson had little illusion how well he could actually defend the fleeing vessels. It was a good thing the Councillor had already boarded the Lytol. Now all he had to do was delay the enemy long enough for the vessels to be out of reach.

Anson Sue looked at the Mages in dull blue preparing to engage him, an Ostero-Ungarian volunteer unit. He'd never expected that they would even send people over to this front. Hopefully they would be easier to deal with than the Germanian Elites.

"Get ready! They're coming! Don't let them target the ships!" he shouted at his men.

Taking to the air, Anson took aim at the Mages, searching for their Commander. Only to be pushed back by suppressive fire.


"Shoot down any Mage that flies too close! Keep them out of engagement range! Break their resolve to fight! " ordered Marcel while he clutched his temples, "Snipers, strike down those ships!"

Wraith company beginning to terrorise the Legadonian vessel that had strayed from the rest of the group. Shots struck the rear of the vessel slowing its escape.

"Sir! There's a suspicious Albish vessel nearby! It looks like they had a rendezvous with this ship and are fleeing," Katya called out.

Still holding his head, Marcel sighed, "Leave it be, whatever the Albish are up to isn't our business. We don't want to anger them into joining the war. I'm sick of Naval battles."

"Roger!"


Anson watched as the Ostero-Ungarian Mages ignored the Lytol entirely, breathing a sigh of relief. Whether it was because they were too lazy or too afraid of the Albish didn't matter, they had allowed Legadonia to fight another day.

At least he could say one of his tasks was done. The second wasn't going so well, the Legadonian fleet was taking damage as the Mages were being overwhelmed. He himself was being pushed back, unable to get into effective range. The enemy was using their altitude advantage to the fullest.

A few more shots came down, tearing holes into Legadonian vessels and shields alike. The Ostero-Ungarian sniper Mages were not to be trifled with.

Then came the announcement, "To all Legadonian soldiers, put down your arms and surrender! There is no reason for you to die here! If you surrender now, you will be able to see your families again after this is all over!"

Anson felt his heart waver for a moment. See his family again? No! He couldn't betray Legadonia for that! Some of his men were facing the same dilemma. They were losing the will to fight, he needed to urge them on! They couldn't forget that the war wasn't going to end just yet.

Steadying his heart, Anson gave out an order, "Overlapping shields! We need to break out of their control!"

His men found their confidence, they weren't going to give in so easily, "Roger!"


The North Sea Fleet flanked the escaping Legadonian vessels, their heavy armaments striking down ships that were still trying to flee.

Tanya turned away from the carnage the Germanian Navy had recently inflicted on one of the ships, towards where Katya's voice was coming from. What were they doing? Giving their enemies an offer for surrender? While it would likely be effective, she would certainly have preferred to have been notified that this was part of the plan. Next time she would ask what they had planned before giving them free reign.

It was effective nonetheless, there have already been a few ships flying their whites and even Mages dropping their weapons.

There were a few foolhardy Legadonians though. Instead of accepting the offer, they doubled down on their resistance, becoming more aggressive. A mistake that they would likely pay for with their lives.


The plan was working, they were surrendering. They understood the pointlessness of their actions.

He could finally go beck and rest.

At least that's what Marcel was thinking moments before the Legadonian Mages below him rushed upwards.

Their layered shields had given them the resilience against the support fire from the Heavy Mages to break through.

"And I thought we could do this nicely," he said aloud in exasperation, "Haven't seen Mages pack up like that in a long while. Katya, cover me! I'm going to break their formation!"

Taking a deep breath, Marcel began repeating what he did over a year back.


As his men made it through the hail of lead, Anson spotted the Ostero-Ungarian commander. The Mage was already charging toward them.

"Scatter! He's making a ramming attack!"

An unfortunate moment too late. Some of his men were still clustered.

"Bonjour!" said the vicious Mage, tearing through two of Anson's men, injuring them, "Et adieu!"

It was him. The one with the golden shield. The second terror. It seemed like Anson had underestimated the quality of the volunteers. With no other option, he attacked the Ace of Aces, firing a volley from his SMG.

"Focus your fire on their Commander!"


Even after his demonstration, they still stubbornly continued attacking. Oh how he hated the heroic types, why couldn't they ever just accept that their country had lost? Their pointless aggression only wasted his time.

Right before he could act, the confusion and pain hit a crescendo, "You dislike heroic types, huh. Funny, considering you're one of them."

A ringing in his head, a voice he'd almost forgotten. As the rounds started pelting against his shield Marcel snapped out of his daze.

"Why are you still fighting? Don't you want it to end? Surrender now and go back to your family!" said Marcel as he ignored the voice and tried once again to convince the Legadonians to surrender.

"See, you're trying to be a hero right now. As hypocritical as ever aren't you, Fortin."

More rounds, nothing his shield couldn't take.

"It's my duty to protect Legadonia! I can't surrender to the likes of you! I have to do this for my daughter!" replied the commander.

That line angered Marcel. The same stupid mindset. The same damned one his own father had. He would rather die for his country than to be with his family.

Once more the voice goaded him, "There you go, throwing a tantrum when things don't go your way. Show the world how much of a hypocrite you are."

"Your daughter? I pity her. Her father cares more about his country than he cares about her! I pity the fact that she'll have to live without him," Marcel snarled back, "I pity the fact that her father died a fool."

In his unholy rage, Marcel charged. Then it all went black.


There was no chance for peace. Now Anson was angry too. How dare that bastard speak of Mary like that!

"How dare you!" he roared back, unleashing his next volley upon the gilded shield, before diving out of the way of a retaliatory blast.

Anson began taking evasive manoeuvres, but the enemy Mage was beginning to catch up to him. Another wave of metal barely missed him, a few enchanted pellets bounced off his own shield. A direct hit could well be fatal. Trench guns were ridiculously effective, how was that fair?

He returned a volley, but this time it went through the target. The enemy commander had used a decoy spell.

From behind, an impact broke his shield and struck him in the back. Losing his grip on his gun, Anson struggled to regain control of his flight, crashing back onto the deck of the ship. Again and again he felt an impact on his face, he couldn't gather the strength to fight back.


Katya looked in horror as her commander continuously punched the Legadonian in the face. He had lost all sense of control. Gone was the effective commander, there was only what could be described as a grown man throwing a temper tantrum. The firefight had devolved into a brawl.

Everyone was in shock, Phantoms and Legadonians alike. The Legadonian soldiers were trying to attack him, only to be blocked by his shield.

"Commander! Stop! Stop hitting him!" she cried out, "Wraith company! Keep them off him!"

"Why won't you just surrender? Why? Why do you want to die? Why can't you just go home. Why didn't you just come home? Why did you leave us behind?" he spat, finally stopping his onslaught.


Anson couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. Perhaps it was the fact that he just had his face punched in, or that the one who did it was in tears.

As the enemy Mages escorted their dazed Commander to safety, a red-haired Mage pointed her weapon at him, "Sorry for our Commander's outburst. But, please surrender now! Let's not shed more blood."

He was now surrounded by Ostero-Ungarian Mages and he no longer had the gun in his hands. There was little way for him to fight back even if he was in any state to.

It was unfortunate to say, but most of the Legadonian fleet failed to escape, the secondary objective was a failure. The Germanian forces managed to capture almost every ship, some of which surrendered without a fight.

Having no reason left to resist, Anson did the logical thing. He raised his arms in defeat.


Tanya surveyed the Legadonian fleet, from destroyed armaments and smoking propulsion; two of the thirteen vessels had managed to escape into the storm. Even with all the effort they had put in, they still failed to get them all.

Tanya sighed in disappointment, before she turned on her radio to communicate with her Ostero-Ungarian counterpart, "Phantom 01, do you read? I require your status report."

Only to hear Katya's voice instead, "This is Wraith 02, the Major is currently… indisposed. We have four ships captured and one sunk. Eleven captured Mages."

Indisposed? What happened out there?

"Did he get injured?"

"Negative, Pixie 01. We'll explain later. Let's finish this first."



North Sea Port, Germania
14th December 1924



Tanya continued pacing around her room, trying to properly organise her thoughts. It had already been several days since the operation, but Marcel was still holed up in his room.

From what Katya was willing to share, Marcel had lost control and decided to subdue the Legadonian Mage commander with his bare fists. That wasn't a sign of stable mental health, but there was little she could do about this breakdown. She was neither a licensed therapist, nor was therapy even much of a thing now. She had submitted proposals for better research on the mental health of soldiers in the past; however even if they were accepted, it would be a long time for any research to bear fruits.

She had long since figured out that he wasn't as indestructible as he made himself look, but she couldn't help but worry. The Phantoms were human too and even the best of them could break down.

There was also a much more malignant worry, that Being X would use this moment of weakness to take control. It was an upsetting thought, having to put her guard up during such a situation.

Then a knock on the door, before Visha let herself in.

Placing the freshly brewed cup of coffee down on the desk, Visha asked, "I suppose you're worried about Major von Bastion?"

"I suppose I've always had high expectations of him. He was the best of my teachers, a Mentor that could keep up with strange ideas. He saved my life back then, and he'd been helping me for a long time. Practically speaking, there's no reason for me to pay him back. I didn't ask for him to sacrifice anything. But… " Tanya tried to articulate.

Understanding the unspoken, Visha finished the thought for her, "But you can't pretend to only be logical. You have emotions too. And you want to help him now that he's in a vulnerable situation."

"That's-That's right. Tell me, what should I do?"


Marcel clutched at his head in anger, shouting in the hopes that it would cover the voice that had returned. He was going crazy, he knew that much. A sane person wouldn't be suffering like he was, hiding from the rest of the world.

He looked into the dressing mirror, but the face that looked back wasn't him. Or at least, it wasn't the person he believed himself to be.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, he spat out his words, "I thought I was rid of you. I thought I could finally have my own head to myself."

"That's no way to speak to the one that saved you all those years back. I made you a hero. Without me, you wouldn't even be here."

"Then what was this time? Why did you let me go through that? Rampaging like a rabid animal, for what? What do you want?"

"That was all you, not me. It's not like you ever listened to me anyways. I have more important things to do than to make you participate in an aerial fistfight. I want vengeance, I want to make them pay."

"That tells me nothing. You say a lot but give no information," replied Marcel, his urge to shatter the mirror growing by the moment.

"And you hear a lot, but never listen. I was never meant to have to share this body with you. I made the deal with the devil for revenge, yet I don't even get full control over my own body. I have to share it with some idealistic, stubborn fool. I tire of your hero complex. Always so quick to put down others for having unrealistic ideals, only to hold on to your very own."

"This is my body! I don't care what you are or what you want. But I'm the one in charge and you will leave me alone!"

"Unlikely. Until I get my revenge, I'm not leaving. So we either work together or we stay at each other's throats. I don't mind either way, my goals are much easier to reach than yours."

"Fine then, you want vengeance. On who?"

"Well, you've already met one of the two. Who else but the monster wearing a little girl's skin?"

In another fit of rage, Marcel smashed the mirror.

"Out of the question. Guess we can't work together after all."

"Best be careful where you step. There's glass everywhere. How will you protect everyone if you hurt yourself?"


15th December 1924


Katya Morozova had her hands quite full. With her commander down for the count, she had to do everything herself.

Normally she could expect Nikolai to be helping her, but her twin had yet to return. This time, the right hand was all on her own.

The Germanians had many expectations for Marcel von Bastion. One of which was to rile up prisoners to get information. It was nice that they could see his value now, beyond the fact that he was the 'horrible and monstrous' Wraith.

Unfortunately that meant that Katya would have to continue with the task herself, even if she didn't have the same masterful grasp as her commander.

Entering the interrogation room, she looked at the depressed Legadonian.

"First Lieutenant Katya Morozova, Osterreich-Ungar. Nice to meet you, Colonel…" she introduced herself, trying to recall his name. She was already making a mess of things, wasn't she?

"Colonel Anson Sue. I've already told the Germanians what they wanted to know, nothing will change even if they send you to interrogate me."

"Have they tried offering you an earlier release date?" she probed.

"First thing they tried. I'm not telling you anything."

Well, there goes that plan.

"Colonel, you have a family, yes? I believe you have a daughter and a wife? Mary Sue, what a lovely name and what pretty hair."

"I've already sent them to the States. You can forget about using them to threaten me."

"Oh, that wasn't what I was thinking at all. I was just wondering how thankful Mary would be that her father was still alive. I'm sure she would love to hear from him as soon as possible. So how about it? You speak, and I get you connected to her straight away. It doesn't matter whether she's in the States, or in Stralia."

"You can take that offer and shove it. I'm not betraying my country."

"That's awfully rude, after all the effort our commander put in to keep you alive."

"There's no need for that", announced a voice as the door opened behind her.

It was her twin, finally back after his mission to 'who knows where' doing 'God knows what'.

"There's nothing new he can tell us. We already got someone else to speak up. They were bragging about how their plan succeeded already. Got real quiet when I showed them this though," he spoke up, waving around several issues of newspapers.

Throwing it in front of the prisoner, Nikolai continued, "Maybe you'll have a more interesting reaction, have a good read. Let's go, Katya."

With a look of confusion, Katya looked at the Legadonian, then followed her twin out of the room.

"What was that all about? When did you come back? Where did you go?"

"I was helping you break his will. I came back just now. And that last one is confidential."

"Why don't you ever tell me anything. I remember when you were this small, just a smidge. You were so much cuter back then," she replied, putting her index finger and thumb together.

"You're only five minutes older, don't speak as if you raised me."

"But I did."


Anson clumsily unrolled the newspapers, his cuffs getting in the way. It was from one of the firmly anti-war news agencies.

'Legadonian councillor spotted escaping to The Albion Kingdom.' - 11th Dec

'Riots against the Legadonian Government. Government-in-Exile not recognised." - 13th Dec

'Riots continue to worsen. Legadonian Alliance in a precocious position.' - 14th Dec

The Operation had failed, perhaps that was why the Ostero-Ungarians didn't chase the Lytol. They had already gotten what they wanted. While Councillor Abensoll was making his trip, they were already spreading propaganda about his departure. What would have been a saving grace twisted into a narrative about betrayal.

Dammit, they were one step ahead. Legadonia was dancing in the palm of their hands.



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
15th December 1924



Marianne looked at the report on the most recent events happening in the North. There was a riot that was tearing Legadonia in two on the order of Kaiser Karl himself.

He had such wonderful foresight, it only confirmed Marianne's feelings, Karl was the most intelligent and supportive man she had ever met. He would be the only one she held in her heart.

Unfortunately, she had gotten herself in quite a pickle.

Marianne looked at the door of her room before reflecting on the argument she had with her father about Karl yesterday. Unfortunately in her zealousness to win the argument, she had angered her father and was subsequently put under house arrest.

Now all she could do was monitor the situation through the reports sent by Zettour or daydream about how much better her life would be if Karl was by her side.

Why couldn't her father accede to her wishes? Did she really have to resort to drastic measures again?



Schonbrunn Palace, Wien, Capital of Osterreich-Ungar
15th December 1924



Karl looked at the latest report on the Legadonian situation, before turning to his confidant, "Who signed off on these orders?"

"You did," replied Sandor, pointing to the Emperor the location of his seal on the orders.

"I read this before! I thought they were just going to steal ciphers or something, not dismantle the government with violent riots!"

"Well, I'd say the result was still satisfactory. Legadonia is in no position to continue the war, all we have to do is to seal the Francois into the coffin they made for themselves."

"Honestly, I would have thought the Albish would have still hosted the government-in-exile. But they just dropped the whole plan like it was a bomb! They even went so far as to deny any relations to the Legadonian!"

"I think you have to thank your foreign affairs minister for that. That man really has a silver tongue, he could probably even convince the Unified States that starting a war against the Rus would be in their best interests."

"I can't give him another raise so early! People are making a fuss about how well a 'commoner' is being treated," sighed the monarch.

"Well, what if he wasn't a commoner anymore?" Sandor put out a question.

There was a moment of silence before Karl spoke again, "Sandor, where did I put my good ink and paper?"



Space Beyond Mortal Comprehension
Time Beyond Mortal Understanding



Marcel looked around at the pristine white room, it was strangely peaceful. But what worried him was the other person in the room.

The person was dressed in a horrid blue and red uniform, a white armband with a red cross hung from his right shoulder. A Francois medic, yet even with the massive hole that had destroyed most of the man's head, he recognised the face that looked at him. It was definitely his, yet there was a sign of resignation in his eye, like a version of him who has lost all hope.

"So you're the one that's been making themselves at home in my head."

His Doppelgänger ignored him, looking towards another direction, towards the being wreathed in white and black. "Back here again, huh? Finally, I thought you forgot about me. Wait, you're not…him… "


Kysll looked towards the two almost identical entities. Was it an error?

"There's not supposed to be two of you. What is going on? I was so sure I picked just one."

"I've gone mad haven't I? First I start hearing voices in my head. Now weird things start talking to me?" spoke the one on the left, voice full of disbelief.

"That's somewhat rude. But it's fine, most humans won't ever meet an Order Deity. I am the administrator of your world. I had chosen you to help me end that war of yours, but as I've said, there's only supposed to be one of you.

"What happened to the one I made the deal with? He was supposed to help me get my revenge!" shouted the one on the right.

Pondering the words, Kysll tried to understand the situation, "You spoke with the previous administration? The bosses would certainly want to know about this."

"I don't understand what's going on, what's happening?"

"It seems like the rollback had created two instances of you, likely due to the aforementioned deal you seemed to have taken."

"I didn't make any deals, he did!"

This was turning into a difficult situation. The two personalities weren't aligned, they were hostile to each other. Kysll would have to pick one to be dominant, but who was he supposed to choose?

The one on the left was confused, a standard for mortals. But the other had made some sort of contract with the Deity that came before, did that made him a threat? Better be safe than sorry.

Pointing to the one on the left, Kysll gave out his edict, "You shall be my Avatar, my hand which will change the world. Blessed with Aegis, you are a protector. With my powers, I grant you the strength to shield the weak and heal the ailing. I command you to use your blessing to end this war!"

"No! You can't do this to me! I should be the one with control! I was supposed to have vengeance! Why are all you gods so worthless?"


His confusion growing only stronger, Marcel began to feel nauseated. A wave of discomfort filled him. Yet the maelstrom in his mind was calming down.

As it finally became peaceful again, he woke up.



North Sea Port, Germania
16th December 1924



Tanya breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Marcel having breakfast at the mess. It was the first time he'd left the room. Perhaps he was feeling better.

Taking a seat across him, she noticed his right hand was bandaged.

"What happened here?" she asked, gesturing to the injury.

"Just a… small accident, it's no big deal."

"I've convinced the General Staff to give us a short break before they send us to the West. We'll enjoy Berun a little before we suffer in the Rhine. I figured we all needed a break. We could also visit Amelie while you're there."

"Yes… that'll be nice. Thank you."

As Marcel got up to leave, she noticed that he was trembling. War is horrible, it tore down even the toughest.

Perhaps visiting sister Amelie could help him regain his strength, if only a little.


Marcel looked at his shaking hands, they were so full of rage, trying to break out of his control. His whole body was primed to pounce on the girl that was sitting across him. Had he stayed any longer, he might really have done something horrible.

"A weakling, that's what you are. She's the source of all my problems! You could have made it quick and easy. But you chose to drag it out."

He was losing control of his own body. Had he not seen the form the voice took, he'd have thought himself possessed. But what he was facing was more than just a piece of himself, he faced a whole second personality. One that hated Tanya to his very core. How was he even supposed to deal with something like that?

First the voice in his head and the wretched memories that came with. Then meeting something claiming to be God, choosing him to be their 'Avatar'. If those weren't symptoms of insanity, what were they?

"Oh lord, in your infinite grace, forgive this sinner and deliver him from the darkness."

"You worthless wretch, 'God' doesn't give a shit about your problems."



Berun Military Airfield, Germania
21st December 1924



"I've always wanted to see Berun," proclaimed Katalin, getting off the transport plane.

"Well, it's one thing to see Wien and another entirely to see Berun," agreed Felix.

"I'm glad I've almost completed the painting of the Fjord. A picture of Pariser Platz would be a great next showpiece," commented Adolphus, "I'll need a guide, anyone up to show me around?"

"Well, I suppose we can have a tour around before the bar crawl," chimed Rhiner, "I know a few good places for eating too."

"That sounds like fun, count me in. I've been missing Berun," added Vooren.

Antonia clicked her tongue, "Not likely, you promised me a meal at a restaurant. You aren't expecting the boys to be visiting anywhere fancy, are you?"

"You're claiming it now? Can't we do this another day?" he replied exasperatedly.

With a harrumph Antonia walked off, leaving Vooren to chase her.

In an unusual turn of events, Nikolai decided to join in the festivities, "Unlike Grantz, I'm not busy today. I'll join you guys."

With a slight smile, Marcel told the departing men, "Don't get too drunk, we're all still on standby. I don't want to have to search all of Berun to find you."

"Yes sir," they replied, laughing as they left.

The moment they left, Tanya noticed the smile on his face fade into a look of exhaustion. He was pushing himself.

Doing her best to cheer him up, Tanya gave him a nudge, "Let's go visit the orphanage, then. It's been a while since we last visited together."

"Er... Right, let's go."

Even with her usual inability to fully understand situations, Tanya could tell that Marcel was actually less comfortable near her than with anyone else. Wracking her brain gave no answers, he used to be so casual with her, what was the reason behind his change?

"I'm not saying I understand what you're going through, but we're in this together, aren't we? I want you to know I'm willing to help you to the best of my abilities."

"Thank you. I'll… let you know if I need your help. But this is something I have to deal with… myself."

"That's all I ask."



St Gertrude Orphanage
21st December 1924



The ride was torturous. The incessant inane screams were a pain.

'It's just you and her, all it takes is just one spell! If you don't do it now, she'll cause it to happen again. It's your duty to stop it from happening!'

It took all he had to hold down the wretched feelings that wound up. All his strength to push back against the Wraith haunting his own mind. The version of him that was consumed with avenging something that never happened.


Tanya rang the doorbell, trying to get out of the awkward situation.

The bus ride had been somewhat silent, Marcel had barely spoken. He simply responded to her statements noncommittally, as opposed to how he would usually lead the conversation.

Standing at attention once she heard the click of the bolt sliding into place, Tanya braced her body.

Behind the door came sister Amelie, going in for an attack, embracing both soldiers in a single hug.

Giving in immediately, Tanya returned the favour, "It's good to see you too, sister Amelie."


"Maman? It's been so long. I… "

Marcel felt the crushing pressure weaken, even the insane voice could love his mother.

Marcel thought to himself, 'I suppose you can't see my memories. Perhaps that was why you couldn't understand the reason why I could never harm Tanya. She is my sister, she is my family. If we're anything alike, you'd know that family is all I care about.'

"She cares so much about that monster. Why? How could she? After what happened?"

'If you're not entirely insane, perhaps we can actually talk.'

Returning the embrace, Marcel spoke up, "Maman, it's good to see you again. It's been so long."

With his mind unclouded, Marcel began to calm down.




Legadonia, exit stage left. Welcome back to Berun, Tanya.


It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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Andrew Reports: No Records

Andrew Reports:No Records


Osteria Military Archive
December 1967



Andrew wiped yet another bead of sweat off his forehead. The heat was getting to him, this archive was horribly ventilated.

It was tough work searching the archives. There was precious little information about any Mage formations. There was nothing that could be tied to the 'Phantoms'.

There were a few formations who had their nicknames mentioned in several documents, S111, S116, S118 and S124: Die Kavaliere, Die Ritter, Die Dragoner and Die Husaren respectively. But not a single Phantom in sight.

Almost every special force Mage Battalion was formed on the Western Front, but these four were particularly active during the later years of the Great War and the early days of the Silent War. They were elites and they had all been nicknamed after cavalry.

There was plenty of mention of Mage achievements, but none of which seemed to reference the Battalions he was looking for. Not a single one of them had any records of even being in the Adriatic.

Were the Phantoms even real? Or were they actually a made up terror? Something for the Ildoans to blame their mistakes on?

With a sigh, Andrew sat down to read through the pile of documents once again. It was then that he noticed the dusty painting propped up against the back wall of the archive.

Giving it a good dusting, he noted a few details. It was a portrait of a group of soldiers, half of which were dressed in Germanian uniforms instead of Ostero-Ungarian. The painting was painstakingly detailed, except for the faces. Not a single soldier had their faces painted in, close to a hundred faceless soldiers stood within the confines of the painting.

Close to a hundred? That would make about two reinforced battalions. One Germanian and one Ostero-Ungarian.

Andrew looked at the plaque embedded in the frame: 'Of Phantoms and Spectres' by A. Schicklgruber. How interesting, another painting by the artist that did the Roma. Perhaps this was confirmation that the Phantoms did indeed exist and they weren't just from Osterreich-Ungar.

Calling Craig to help him give it a closer inspection, they noticed even more. On the uniform of the Germanian Commander was a pair of distinct shapes, a set of Silver wings and a Golden Crown! In contrast, the uniform of the Ostero-Ungarian Commander held a Golden Cross. In fact, looking at the medals dotted upon each uniform showed that every soldier was an elite. They were beyond those described by any documents.

The painting had told them much. The Battalions they were searching for had been purposefully erased. For what reason would they need to hide information on their very best Mages? It wasn't like they were going to have them taken.

They began pondering their next move. Where should they search next? Perhaps they could find a few fragments in Berun?



Another look into the future, what could have happened?



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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A Moment to Breathe

A Moment to Breathe


St Gertrude Orphanage
22nd December 1924



Marcel grunted as the axe bit into the log, "Not sharp enough."

For the first time in over a decade, he had spent the night in the orphanage. As thanks for letting him do so, he decided to help out with the tasks that required some physical exertion. Before the sun even rose, he had begun his labours.

Sure that there was nobody looking at him, he began speaking to himself. Not exactly a strange thing to do, were it not for the fact that it was a different version of him that replied.

"So, when are you going to start explaining things to me?" he asked while sitting down to sharpen the axe with his whetstone.

"Explain what? Why some alternate version of you holds so much hatred for a prepubescent girl that he haunts himself? Should I explain his entire existence end up revolving around getting revenge?" the voice replied with impatience.

"Close, but not exactly. It's pretty damn obvious that there's a pretty big difference between the two of us. You call me a hypocrite with a hero complex and I think you're just plain crazy. I want to know why."

"Well, blame your dear 'little sister' for that. She destroyed everything I cared for, you're just one bad break from being like me."

"I'd rather not try to imagine that. But why would Tanya do anything to us?"

"She didn't do anything targeted at us. Everything she took away from me was just collateral in her grand plans. I served the Germanian Empire loyally and they repay me by letting her run wild."

"Tanya's not that bad," Marcel replied as he inspected the sharpened blade.

"Please, she's a heartless beast that would do anything to win. Even trampling on her allies. You'll regret caring about her."

"She's not the person you think she is. I'll show you."

"Well, while you're proving yourself wrong, there's another problem I want to take care of. I'm sure you'll have no qualms about this one, he's a Francois commander, Lieutenant Colonel Severin Vianto. I want to return his last gift to me."

"And what was that?" he heaved as he split the log.

"A bullet to the back of my head."


Tanya closed the door quietly while Marcel's back was still turned. She had woken up early to refine the naval combat doctrine that she was going to send to the Germanian Navy to help improve their future efficiency against Mage attacks. She was about to ask Marcel for his input before she realised that he was speaking to himself in Francois. No that wasn't right, he was having a conversation with himself.

Her knowledge of the language was barebones at best, she only knew enough for military usage. She didn't have the skills to understand entire conversations.

From what she could make out, the second voice really didn't like her while the first was trying to argue in her favour. She didn't want to worry too much about things, but she couldn't just brush it off, especially when he was doing so while swinging an axe.

She thought Marcel had gotten more stable after meeting with Sister Amelie, but now realised he only seemed calmer on the surface. There was nothing normal about what just happened. Was this something Being X was doing?

Before she could contemplate any further, the orphanage phone began to ring. Picking it up, Tanya received less than ideal orders.

"Yes Sir. We'll be there," she ended the call and let out her biggest sigh.

"Who was it?" Marcel asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Germanian command with our latest orders."

"I'll call in the Phantoms."

"There's no need for that. We should call on Amelie instead. It's for something infinitely more tiring than fighting a war."



Berun, Capital of Germania
22nd Dec 1924



"Wow…" Katya exclaimed in awe as she explored the streets of Berun.

She had originally wanted to visit the orphanage where both battalion commanders were staying, but they had been called in for some unspecified reason and she was left to her own devices.

Thankfully that meant that Visha was also free to guide her and her brother around the capital.

"There's so much to explore in Berun. It's hard to say whether I prefer it here or back in Wien," confessed Katya, turning to Visha, "Do you like it here?"

"I do, it's like a second home to me. I've spent most of my life in Germania, after all," replied the brown-haired Rus, "But I still miss Moskva. How about you? Don't you miss it? Even a little?"

"Not really. Moskva was never a hospitable place for the two of us. Even before the Reds took charge," Katya replied with a shrug.

Nikolai nodded his head, "It's hard to be fond of a place that tried to chase you out every opportunity it had. To be honest, we'd almost bought into the communist ideology. It sounded like what we needed, a way to fight back against those that oppressed us. At least, until we found out what they did to Mages."

"I see. I'm… uh-"

Going in for a hug, Katya tried to cheer up the saddened Mage, "It's fine, it doesn't bother us anymore. One day they'll all get what's coming to them and we'll have the last laugh."

"Oh! That's one way to think about things."

"That's just how we've decided to live. Now enough talk, show us where the good food is."


"Bleh," Felix frowned as he chewed on the pastry, "This one lacks heart. Why are all your Germanian bakeries so disappointing?"

"Maybe that's why they can stand the amount of sawdust they have in K-brot. They must have been training for years," Katalin nodded.

"While I feel insulted for my nation, I'm more curious about how you found out about me coming from a family of bakers," asked Matheus as he was dragged along by the pair.

"You smell like one. You can't hide from the nose of a baker," replied Felix.

"While I find that highly unlikely, I find myself unable to argue otherwise," responded Matheus, unconvinced.

"That's great and all, but why am I here? I don't even have any relations with baking," spoke the final member of their party, Vooren Grantz.

Giving a shrug, Felix answered, "I just figured that after you let Antonia have what she wanted, you'd be interested in inexpensive food for a period of time."

"Alright, that's fair. I don't think I'd ever financially recover though."

"You wouldn't be the first of her victims," laughed Katalin, "Though maybe you actually have a chance. Antonia usually never finishes a date."


"This photo came out well," Adolphus pointed at one of the many photos he took of Pariser Platz.

"Aren't you glad you bought that high quality camera from me?" asked Antonia before taking a sip of beer.

"Not really, considering the fact that we walked past a shop that was selling it for much cheaper on the way to this beer hall," complained the painter, "Why are you drinking beer so early anyways?"

"I want to sample everything Berun has to offer! I may not have time, but I have money and nothing you do will stop me!"

The door opened behind them, ringing a bell that caught their attention. Turning to the source of the sound, they spotted a few familiar faces entering the almost empty building. Christina, Nicole and William of the 203rd.

"Oh, turns out there really are other people who drink alcohol in the morning," William laughed as he looked at Christina.

"I'd rather drink wine though," replied the older woman.

"I had wine last night, can't say it was worth it," Antonia added as the Germanians sat down next to her.

"Ah, yes. So how much did Vooren spend on you?" William asked as he sat down to look at the pictures Adolphus took, "Oh, I like this one."

"Enough that I'm considering giving him a second date."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing for his wallet."

"It's a good thing for me."

"Urgh. How greedy can you get?" Nicole complained.

"Aren't you the same? Aren't you trying to regain your prestige and your riches so that you can experience luxuries again? I'm just trying to do the same without being rich in the first place," Antonia countered.

"Etch. Not this again," sighed Adolphus.

"My family's honour has value beyond just money!"

"Honour can't feed a family with no money! Honour can't last you a winter when you crawl through the mud. I would rather live each day off the battlefield as lavishly as possible. Because for all I know, my next meal could be a bullet!"

Hearing that retort, Nicole found herself at a loss for words.

"Well," Christina broke the silence as she drank straight from her bottle of wine.

"I'm going to buy painting materials. Walter, why don't you guide me around the city?" Adolphus stood up abruptly and headed for the door, quickly followed by William, leaving the girls to their own devices.

"Well, that was awkward," William commented out of their hearing range.

"We all have our problems to deal with, and honestly, I'm glad all we have to do now is to fight off the Francois. I want to go home and just live in peace."

"Don't we all?"


23rd December 1924


"Haha, no! Stop!" Tanya laughed as the massive white dog tried to lick her face, almost pushing her to the ground.

"I wish I had a camera," Amelie commented about the scene, "I want to save this scene forever."

'So, can you look at this scene and still believe she's a monster?' Marcel thought to the other voice in his head.

'That quite literally means nothing to me. So what if the Devil of Rhine likes dogs? We're not on the battlefield now,' replied the voice with unshaken stubbornness.

As Tanya finally got up, she saw a frown appear on Marcel's face that quickly changed to one of neutrality.

"Let's not waste any more time," he said before walking off, "We're scheduled for eight. We can't be late."

With a sigh, Tanya followed behind him, heading for the worst military building in all of Berun.



Germanian Military Propaganda Headquarters
23rd December 1924



As Tanya looked out the window of the accursed building, she complained, "So this is the payment for allowing my men to take a break. Damned high command."

"At least they aren't making you wear a dress this time. You get to wear a uniform this time," Marcel replied as he pinned his Silver Cross on the ceremonial uniform in his hands.

"But she would look so cute in one! I don't get why you've never liked wearing dresses, Tanya," Amelie cooed, before lifting the dress she had been given to wear for the photoshoot, "This dress is so pretty, it kind of reminds me of the old days before we came to Berun."

"I just don't like how they feel."

"That's a shame," Amelie said before entering her dressing room.

Marcel cleared his throat and said, "Alright, I'm going to head to my changing room now. I'll meet you in the photography room when you're done changing."

"Wait!" Tanya tried to call out, but Marcel had already left.

With a sigh, she entered her own changing room where an assistant was already waiting. There was no problem, she was wearing a uniform this time. At least, that's what she thought until she saw the many boxes on the table where she put down the uniform and her medals.

Boxes upon boxes of makeup.

"Major von Degurechaff, let's begin!" the assistant exclaimed excitedly with a gleam in her eye.

Damn you Being X!


While she helped brush the woman's beautiful blond hair, Hildebrand von Edelrich tried to recall where she had seen the woman before, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "You look really familiar, Ms. Fortin. But I can't figure out where I've seen you."

"Oh my. I didn't think someone as young as you would find me familiar. It's been a long time since I've been in the performance business," Amelie laughed, feeling proud that she had been recognised, "It must have been fifteen or so years since I've starred in anything."

"Oh? You're that actress! My mother used to watch your movies ever so often!"

"I wouldn't really call myself an actress, the studio I worked at could barely keep afloat. I can't say much about anything I acted in either. I'm just glad I could have another day in the limelight."


"Everything looks in order," Lieutenant Colonel von Lehrgen muttered to himself as he walked through the halls of the building once again.

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He thought he saw something that made his gut twist. He could have sworn he saw Major von Degurechaff. Surely that couldn't be, there was no reason she'd be here.

To be thinking of her even now, he must be overworked. Thankfully he had gotten the next few days off for the holiday season, once he'd turn in this last assignment. Quickening his pace, he began heading for the exit.

Unfortunately, with his increase in pace, he could not react in time when a propaganda model leaving her dressing room entered his path. Erich von Lehrgen collided with her, knocking her down.

"My-my apologies! Are you alright?" offering his hand to her.

"It's no problem," she replied, accepting his offer.

As she took his hand and looked at him, he found his heart racing. He found himself staring at her green eyes. Was this… No, there was no way. There was no way he could possibly be having love at first sight at his age. In fact, she looked awfully familiar, had he seen her before?

"Are you really fine? Ms… ?"

"Yes, I'm fine, not injured at all. Amelie Fortin," she replied, then took a look at his shoulders, "You're a… Colonel?"

"A Lieutenant Colonel. Only two pips." he corrected.

"I'm not really all that well-versed about our military. I've only really seen a Major rank. I'm perfectly content leaving all the intricacies to my kids."

"Your kids are in the military? You must be proud of them."

"I can't say I'm not. But I would prefer them to be somewhere safe far from the front lines," she answered, before shaking her head, "Oh, I don't think I'm supposed to say that. Please forget it."

"I think it's perfectly fine for a mother to wish for her children's safety. I'm not going to report you for wishing for the war's end."

"Well, that's nice to hear. I don't want to lose them like I lost my husband."

Erich felt his heart light up the moment he heard that, before he shut it down himself. How could he think that?

"I'll hope so too, for you," he replied even while his mind was in a mess. He was supposed to be logical about this, but he just couldn't. Somehow just looking at her had entranced him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I have to go for my shoot now."

"I would like to know you better Amelie, do you have time tomorrow?"

Excusing herself, Amelie Fortin bid Erich von Lehrgen goodbye, "I suppose so, perhaps we could meet at the plaza."

Watching as she walked off, he whispered to himself, "Damn it Erich, why did you invite her on a date? She's at least a decade older than you and she's a widow, no one will approve of this."


As she walked away, Amelie felt herself blush. Why did she agree to that? Surely she was too old to be dating again.

She had told herself she wasn't going to fall in love again, especially not with another military man, but… Oh Amelie, what are you doing?


Tanya entered the room and saw Marcel sitting at a table, mumbling to himself. No doubt conversing again.

Closing the door, she declared, "We need to talk. Now."

He lifted his head and replied, "Not now, please?"

"No, this is important. Ever since the last battle, you've been avoiding me. I want to know why, now!"

"Please just give me some space!" he shouted back.

That sudden outburst stunned Tanya, before she could recover her wits, the door opened.

"There you are. This is a big place," Amelie said, finally locating the photography set.

With her entrance, the argument was cut short. The room filled with an awkward silence before the photographer and his crew finally came in.

"I see that everyone is here! Let's start the shoot."

Ensuring his mother had taken her seat, Marcel draped the Ostero-Ungarian over his shoulder while Tanya did the same for the Germanian flag.

"Good! Good! Hold that pose!"



Schonbrunn Palace, Wien Capital of Osterreich-Ungar
24th December 1924



"Sandor, can you explain what the hell I'm looking at?" Karl looked to his friend for advice.

"It appears to be a piece of Germanian propaganda."

"No shit," the emperor replied, "I was talking more about why the Holy Empire's flag is in it."

"Well, by the looks of things, the Germanians want to reinstate the Holy Empire, by having a union with us."

"How? They should know that we'd never agree to be subservient to them. And they'd never agree to be subservient to us."

"Well, I don't know about that," Sandor replied, before picking up the envelope that once held that poster and looking at the seal, "How well do you remember the titles of Germanian royals?"

"Not much, but there's only like four of them. I guess it shouldn't be too hard. Why the test though?"

"No reason. Anyways, who holds the title of Duchess of Bayern?"

Karl replied quickly, "Huh. Well, there's only one female member of the Germanian royal family. So the Princess, I suppose?"

"Indeed," Sandor agreed, before showing the seal to Karl, "It seems like Princess Marianne has another idea."

"Good lord. Not another one. Why am I surrounded by ambitious women?" lamented the emperor.



Imperial Palace, Berun, Capital of Germania
24th December 1924



"Marianne! Explain the meaning of this!" shouted Kaiser Fredrick as he held up the propaganda poster before her face.

"This is a piece of propaganda," answered the princess.

"You know that wasn't what I meant!" shouted her father, "How could you do something like this? This may as well be a declaration of war against the Ostero-Ungarians! They have never taken kindly to our claims on the Holy Empire! You could doom us all!"

"Well, maybe we could clarify things," Marianne replied with a smug grin, "We can tell them we wish for a union."

"You-you're supposed to be smart, but you've gone stupid thinking about marrying that upstart!"

"Don't talk about Karl like that! Marrying him is the best option for both of our nations." she tried to justify, "They are our best ally now and a union will bring us to greater heights!"

"A union under his rule!"

"You are my father, you should know me best. I'm not the kind of princess that will let my husband control me. I am not lesser to any man just because I am a woman, I will be an Empress!" Marianne retorted, showing the vastness of her ambition.

"You…" the Kaiser found himself speechless finally realising that his beloved daughter was not happy with his choice of heir.

"So either we do things the easy way and you give me what I want, or we do things the hard way and I take what I want."

"Marianne! What caused this madness?"

"Well. If I had to say, it was probably the day you started treating me like a girl. Now, your answer please, I certainly hope you pick the bloodless choice."



St Gertrude Orphanage
24th December 1924



Marcel looked at his mother all dolled up for some unknown reason, "Maman, where are you going?"

"Oh, I was just meeting someone," she replied, blushing a little.

"Who?" he asked, realising that she was trying not to answer.

"Just a friend I made yesterday. Don't wait up. I'll still be having Christmas dinner with the two of you tomorrow."

"Good lord. She's in love."

"I am going to kill whoever it is."



Pariser Platz, Germania
24th December 1924



Erich von Lehrgen looked down at his suit, still unsure what had possessed him to try and pursue a widow with children that were old enough to serve in the military. But he was here already and it would be ungentlemanly of him to go back on his word.

"There you are. You look good in formal wear, maybe even better than if you were in uniform," Amelie spoke up from behind him.

Turning to face her, Erich found himself at a loss of words. The moment he saw her in her dress, he couldn't think about anything else but her. Damn it Erich. What the hell have you gotten yourself into.

"Let's go have lunch," he said, gathering what remained of his wits long enough to lead her to a restaurant.

"Oh my, isn't this place too fancy?" asked Amelie.

"It's actually quite affordable. Please, take a seat," he pulled out the seat for her.

"What a gentleman."


"I thought you were finally willing to answer me, but instead we're stalking your mother's date," Tanya complained while looking into the restaurant, "But what are the chances."

"Erich von Lehrgen," Marcel bit at his thumb. Why couldn't it be someone he didn't like at all? Getting rid of him was going to be difficult.

"I think that besides the fact that he's in the military, it doesn't really matter. Lieutenant Colonel von Lehrgen is probably one of the best choices around. He's a noble and he's well respected."

"How can you say that? She's your mother too!"

That response caught her a little off guard, she wasn't expecting Marcel to call Amelie her mother. Nor did she think he would mind so much that his mother had fallen in love again.

"Do you think that you'll lose her just because she found someone to love? Jealousy doesn't fit you," she replied.

'Huh. Maybe there's actually something admirable about that demon after all. Let maman live how she wishes, as long as she's alive, you'll be her son,' the voice said in his head.

"Fine, we'll go back," Marcel relented.

"Why don't you tell me why you're trying to avoid me, yet so willingly pull me into this first?"

"I just had a few doubts l needed to work out alone. I didn't want you to think less of me."

"And it's all good now?"

"Well, if nothing goes wrong in the future, then I suppose so."

'As long as she doesn't do anything horrible, that is.'


Even the meal wasn't enough to help him clear out his thoughts, how did this woman capture his heart so easily? His parents aren't going to like this at all.

Nor will her children, he suspect.

But he was enjoying his time with her, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea after all?

"This was a nice meal. What's next on the itinerary?"

"Well… how do you feel about films?"

"I haven't seen any recently, but I used to like some of the older ones."

"Oh, a fan of the classics? Maybe we should go to a film store instead of the cinema."

"Oh no, that's fine. I'm interested to see what kind of films they're showing nowadays," Amelie answered.

As he led her out of the restaurant, he thought he saw both the Devil and the Wraith from out of the corner of his eye. Yet when he turned to check, he couldn't see anyone.

"Is there anything wrong?" his date asked.

"Oh no, I just thought I saw someone familiar."

This was getting ridiculous, even when he was off duty, he's being haunted by them. It was annoying to think just how worried he was about the two of them, at least they were fighting the enemies of the empire instead of causing destruction to the empire itself.

Putting that grim thought away, Erich looked at the few options that the movie theatre had. If he excluded all the military themed ones, there was only a single romantic comedy. Not something he'd pick, but considering her thoughts about the military, it was preferable.

Amelie looked at the poster, "Oh my, Stein Filmography Studios. That's certainly a choice, have you seen any of their old films?"

"Maybe, I don't really remember them too well myself. Do you like the studio?"

"No, not exactly. It's just ancient history, honestly."

"Haha, don't say that, you're not that old," Erich reassured.

"Aren't you a charmer? Let's watch it."

The film was cheesy beyond Erich's tolerance, but Amelie seemed enamoured with the story. He spent most of the time focused on her instead, which was perhaps a mistake. The more he looked at her, the more he felt that he was struggling against an inescapable riptide. There was no doubt about it, Erich von Lehrgen had really fallen for Amelie Fortin.



Berun, Capital of Germania
25th December 1924



Amelie Fortin was in heaven. Well, as close to it as she could be while still being alive.

The past few days had been a blessing from God. That much was certain. Seeing both her children safe and sound, being able to somewhat relive her glory days and even going on a date.

It would be a lie to say that she hadn't missed the 'good old days'. But she had her responsibilities to the orphanage. Perhaps when the war ends and Tanya grows up a little more. Until then, she'll have to put her romantic pursuits on hold.

Erich had looked a little disappointed to hear about it, but he had accepted it too. It would be best for both of them to continue only after the war ended.

But before she imagined the future, she should enjoy the present. A Christmas meal with her family. Something that should have been an impossibility with the war going on. It was a shame that they would be leaving for the west soon.

Counting her blessings, Amelie once again thanked the Heavens for all that she had been given.


Erich von Lehrgen sighed wistfully, he thought things had gone well. But Amelie had told him that she wanted to wait for the war to end before she went on any more dates. She wanted to tell her children when they were finally off the battlefield for real.

First he cursed himself for falling in love so easily and now he cursed the fact that he had to wait. Even while he celebrated with the other members of the personnel division, he was still thinking about the date he had.

It wasn't until he saw the propaganda poster that he found things strange.

'A Family United by the will of God!' the poster proclaimed. On the left stood the devil herself, Tanya von Degurechaff bearing the flag of Germania. Her Golden Crown and Silver Wings shining with a glimmer that hid her true nature.

On the right stood the Wraith, Marcel von Bastion with the Ostero-Ungarian flag hanging upon his shoulder. His uniform was decorated with a single medal. The Silver Merit Cross, forged with the blood of Germanians.

And in the middle sat Amelie Fortin, Flag of the Holy Empire draped upon her lap. A symbol of the unity between two imperialist nations. Compared to von Degurechaff and von Bastion though, she looked like a saint. Perhaps not all those with blond hair were monsters, only those two specifically.

The propaganda division was playing with dangerous ideas. Who knows what sort of madness might come about by claiming the mantle of the Holy Empire? Who approved of this plan?

It had angered the Ildoans when it was just being used in passing by journalists. But now, it is being embraced by the empire. What were they planning? What could they possibly hope to gain by doing so? Was it worth waking sleeping foes for?

"Hey, isn't that actress from those old films? Man, she aged well. It was a shame she quit just as she got popular, I was just a child when I saw them, glad to see she's still around," commented a half-drunk colleague, identifying Amelie.

Amelie Fortin. An actress. Was that why she looked so familiar? Perhaps he really should look up her films. He really wanted things to go well with her, maybe he could curry some favour with her children while the war was ongoing.

But how would he find them?



Washington D.C., Capital of the Unified States
29th December 1924



It was supposed to be a nice and quick discussion. All Henrik had to do was convince the Americans to keep trading with Osterreich-Ungar. An easy task.

Until he read the newspaper, of course. What in the world was that propaganda poster? Why would Germania do such a thing?

Every nation in the world believed themselves to have been chosen by God. But claiming so when you're in such a precocious position was madness. To more sensitive nations, it was akin to declaring hostilities.

They had just managed to cripple Legadonia's government with the riots. They had just managed to finally outnumber their foes. Did they feel like they could take on the world now that they only had one enemy to defeat?

Smoothing things over was going to be hard. Good lord, how in the world was he supposed to respond to the questions he'll receive later?



Convoy to the Western Front, Germania
2nd January 1925



Marcel was enjoying his final moments of peace, not that it was easy considering how bumpy the road was.

"Of course it's snowing. We never get sent anywhere that isn't cold or wet," Felix frowned as the truck came to a stop.

Hugo grumbled, "The break was too short, at least it was long enough for me to submit my thesis."

"Well, in the short time we had, I managed to get a great picture of Pariser Platz and plenty of paint. Now all I need is the time to actually paint it,"

"Alright, that's enough of that. We're almost at the Rhine. Ready your weapons and prepare for your dramatic entrance," announced Marcel.



Western Front, Germania
2nd January 1925



Looking up at the snowfall and shivering, First Lieutenant Lehmann cursed the sky. He had been in this hellhole for over an entire year. Sure, he had the occasional break where he was rotated off the front. But it was the principle of the matter.

In a single year, he had lost six commanders. In almost thirteen months, he had been promoted thrice. In three hundred and eighty-two days, Germania gained a mere four kilometres. With so much fighting, was he lucky he wasn't dead yet? Who could say?

Unlike the previous year, there wasn't even an unofficial Christmas truce this time. There was no drinking or football, not even a moment of peace to collect the bodies of the fallen. The Francois just kept hammering away with their artillery. Neither side had the foolish notion that peace was on the horizon anymore.

Thousands of dead men littered the trenches. Francois, Germanian and Ostero-Ungarian alike. Each one of them held their own dreams and ambitions. There were fathers and sons felled by guns. With no sign of peace anymore, it really got everyone wondering about the purpose of it all.

The final nail in the coffin? Erik Lehmann no longer had the discretion to die on his own. After almost all his superiors got their double promotions, he now had the 'battlefield experience' to lead a platoon of his own.

God he hated war.


First Lieutenant Frida Stein hated the war. All she could see was fields of white snow, scarred by craters and trenches. All she could hear was the scream of shells before they crashed down to the earth. All she could smell was the smell of rot and burnt gunpowder.

Frida was never one to believe in honour and patriotism, she always understood that they were the resources being expended. Millions of lives just waiting to be spent to gain no ground.

It was hard to imagine that just four months ago, they had captured over twelve kilometres. Now, they could barely hold on to the final four. The dream of a quick victory ended as the Francois managed to overcome their camouflage spells and started dropping Mages like flies.

The Germanians had superior technology, but for some reason, their doctrine no longer worked. It had gotten better when the Ostero-Ungarians came over, but as a whole, they were definitely wasting lives.

But what she hated most was-

"What's up, Frida?" came an unbearable voice.

Shutting her eyes and heaving a sigh, she turned around to face her nemesis, Captain Huszar Sarika, commander of the Ostero-Ungarian Mage Company that was attached to the one Frida commanded.

"Captain, I've told you again and again to call me Lieutenant," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Alright, Lieutenant Frida. So, what's up?"

If only she was brave enough to commit fratricide. Oh how she wished she could permanently make the woman shut up.

"Just surveying the battlefield," she answered, trying to rein in her urge to strangle the Ungarian.

"Aren't you diligent? As expected as someone who flew with the Spectre one on one. Sarika wishes she got to play wingman with an Ace of Aces."

Even her compliments sounded backhanded. How does someone grow up to be so infuriating?

"Isn't it standard practice to know what you're diving into? Surely even the Banshee taught you as much."

"Sarika wasn't the best student. If she was, she'd be a Phantom," The captain smiled proudly.

Suddenly, they noticed streaks of coloured smoke filling the sky.

"Red, Black, Yellow, Black, Green and Grey. That means Germanian 203rd… and… Black, Yellow, and four Whites. That's… um… Ostero-Ungarian 111th…" mumbled Captain Huszar, before a smile crept on her face.

"What does that mean?" Frida questioned with annoyance.

"It means the cavalry has arrived. The Phantoms are here!"




I think I may have gotten into crackfic territory here lol, but I honestly feel like this was neccesary.



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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Stuck in a Trench, Knee-deep in Mud

Stuck in a Trench, Knee-deep in Mud




Western Front, Germania
4th January 1925



Unlike almost every other Germanian soldier, Frida Stein wasn't elated to know that the Devil of Rhine had returned. Sure it was nice to have reinforcements, but she really didn't want to see her former commanding officer again.

She had been quite thankful that she was still on her officer's course when the Major required an adjutant. Thankfully, Lieutenant Serebryakova had taken the role in her place. Who in their right mind would want to join an 'elite battalion'?

For her personal health and safety, she had hoped that she would never be pulled into anything the Spectre did ever again. Surely it was normal to be afraid of dying!

But now she was serving in the most dangerous place in the world with the commander she tried so hard to avoid. Due to her past 'achievements' as someone who flew with the Argent, she had been offered up on a platter when the 'little girl' requested for an attachment.

But that was merely the first of her problems. The second was a threat to her mental wellbeing. Huszar Sarika was one of a kind. A loud and overly handsy personality that just wouldn't leave Frida alone. One that would never shut up. If she liked the sound of her own voice so much, why couldn't she go somewhere where she could only be heard by herself? Or touch anyone's hair!

Every single day, Sarika would find a reason to attach herself to Frida. Like a clingy girlfriend, she would talk about everything under the sun. From her hobbies to her noble heritage. Why the heck would anyone need to know that her family raised horses? Under what circumstances would anyone wish to know more about Captain Huszar?

Frida couldn't even avoid her in combat. The Captain's Company was attached to the Phantoms' Battalion due to their current underhandedness.

For nearly every hour of the day, she had to withstand the force of nature that was Sarika's personality. Her only respite was the few hours where Sarika would have her 'beauty sleep'.

But perhaps what troubled her the most was the Phantoms themselves, or more accurately, the Wraith himself. She had heard all sorts of stories about him, recounts from survivors of his attacks or just rumours of his terror and she had formed an image of him in her head. He was supposed to be a horrible villain, not some handsome hero and most of all, he was definitely not supposed to be someone she knew!

She hadn't recognised him from his old propaganda posters after the Two Empire war, how could she? The last time she saw him was a decade and a half ago. But this latest poster had made it all clear, the moment she saw aunt Amelie next to the 'Wraith' she realised their relationship and didn't really feel all that afraid of him anymore.

But that only led to more questions. How did that crybaby become one of Osterreich-Ungar's most feared Mages? What the hell happened to Marcel Fortin and how was Tanya von Degurechaff related to them?

What the hell happened?


Somewhere along his career Marcel had gotten the reputation of coming up with table-turning ideas that would revolutionise war. As of now, people looked at him as if he had solutions to every problem. But in actuality, he was only getting lucky and finding answers where they were missed.

Expectations were piling up on him, ones that he was unsure he could bear. Standing before western field command, he began to feel stressed out.

He also didn't know how to feel about the familiar face amongst them. Both a superior and a former student, General von Falkenberg had been one of Marcel's benefactors. As the coordinator between Germanian command and Ostero-Ungarians troops, the general was the second most important person on the Western front.

Hoping that a joke would lift off some pressure, Marcel greeted his old commander, "It's been a while, General von Falkenberg. I haven't seen you since you graduated from my class. How was the weather in the plains of Ildoa?"

"Letting it get to your head, are we?" he harrumphed. "The plains had much better weather than the mountains and seas. Though I would have preferred visiting it during more peaceful times."

"Don't I know it. I'm sick of Naval Missions."

From her seat, Tanya looked at her pocketwatch.

"Yes. Yes. Can we get to the point now?" heaved Field Marshal Gunter von Eichhorn, evidently tired from having to oversee the entirety of the Western Front.

"Right, let me see your casualty reports."

"Casualty reports? Why would you need those?" questioned the Germanian Field Marshal.

"Because that's where the information about the greatest losses lie. If we can save lives, we'll have more fighting strength," answered Tanya, trying to speed up the process.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," joked Marcel, unaware of what awaited him in the documents.

Marcel was violently shocked when he saw just how poorly his old tactics had been put into use. Germanian Mages had been using the camouflage spells so heavily it had forced the Francois to adapt. His war-turning spell turned into a mere party trick.

'Those were my tactics, not yours. I created them to survive on the southern continent,' complained the indignant other voice.

"Alright, I can see why we were so hastily brought over. Somehow, the Mage casualties are higher here than in the Ildoan Alps. Is this due to the fact that the Francois have found a way to counteract the camouflage spell?"

"That's likely correct. They've proven that they have the ability to shoot down cloaked Mages with precision," answered a Mage Commander.

"Has it been confirmed to be through the use of a machine or spell?"

"It is likely a spell, or at least something magic related. Their ground troops don't seem to be able to do the same. The reaction time of the Francois Mages also seems to be quite fast, so it is unlikely that they are being guided from the ground," confirmed the commander.

"Right. We'll have to rewrite the doctrine. Major von Degurechaff, I'm going to need help with the planning. You're better at combat spells."

"I already have a few things in mind, we can use the groundwork for the Naval Mage doctrine you also haven't finished," she reported.

"Er, right. Forget about that for a moment. General, perhaps I'm overstepping my bounds here. But we have a few ideas for our ground forces too. I hope you'll hear us out."

"We'll listen. Your reputation for groundbreaking tactics is well known."

'Pft.'

"That's a bit too much praise. Germania always had big ideas about manoeuvre warfare, even when it was just Preussen. But first, I have to ask three questions. One, what percentage of soldiers have magical capacity, but no flight ability? Two, how many orbs do you have in reserve? And Three, how do you feel about Mages on the ground?"


15th January 1925


Erik Lehmann looked at the strange little girl standing before a group of Germanian ground soldiers. Well, he would have been worried for her safety if he didn't know of the Mage's reputation.

What could an Ace Mage be presenting to infantrymen? Or Artillerymen…

"Some of you may be wondering why you have been called here. Well, I am pleased to announce that due to your achievements and potential, you have been selected to put the general staff's newest plan into action," the Spectre announced the bad news.

He was going to become a guinea pig for god knows what. What an honour.

"Perhaps you may have seen this before," she continued, holding up a device, "This is a Type-13 orb."

Wait. Why was she showing them this?

"All of you here have some level of magical capacity. However, because of your lack of aptitude for flight, all of you were sent to other places instead."

Oh no. That was not good news at all.

"But it turns out there are plenty of magic related roles that are useful for combat that don't require the capacity to fly," smiled the little devil, "Welcome to the start of your new role, Grabenmagier!"

Fucking hell.


Marcel stared at the prospective Ostero-Ungarian trench Mages. They were pulled from all over the front, amongst them was even a handful of medics.

"So, some of you were disappointed when they told you that you were unsuited to be a Mage in service to our glorious nation. And others… well," smiled the Wraith as he spoke to his audience, "But it seems like even the greatest of empires could make mistakes."

A wave of confusion appeared in the faces of the ground troops, they weren't quite sure what was going on.

"You are the best of your roles, the most accurate artillerists, the toughest infantryman and even the most virtuous of medics!"

'Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?'

"All of you will continue to play your roles to the fullest, with one small difference," he held up a simple device, "You will be doing so with the aid of magic!"

A shocking revelation. The troops began to voice out their questions.

"Now, now. We'll answer your questions shortly. But first, I want to congratulate you all on your promotion to Grabenmagier!"


Frida had made it a point to avoid ever meeting both Marcel and Tanya, even going so far to take the long way around when travelling through the camp.

But it had proven impossible to do so. Ever so often Major von Degurechaff would call upon her to plan their operations. And even tried to poach her on several occasions.

She had cited her responsibility to her own company. Thankfully, as long as she had her company, she had an excuse not to become part of such a dangerous battalion. She was safe from flying high risk missions.

But there was a second problem, despite having been successful in avoiding Marcel, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Frida had become a little bit of a shut-in, were it not for the fact she was conscripted, she would have probably spent the entire war at home. But who could blame her? The first friend she ever made moved away and was never heard of again. Trying to make new friends was just going to disappoint her further.

Having seen him again, she was filled with forlorn feelings for the past, hoping to relive the times where they spent their days in her father's filmography studio. She yearned for the three years they had spent together playing with the old scripts about princesses and dragons.

Were it not for his horrific panic attacks, they would still be friends, wouldn't they? But now that boy had become someone so far beyond her reach, someone who could strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest.

Just what happened?



Von Stahl Estate, Osterreich-Ungar
23rd January 1925



Petra looked at the letter Marcel had sent her. She picked up her father's letter opener and cut open the envelope. She hadn't even left for long, yet Marcel was already feeling the need to keep her updated about the Phantoms. But as she read the letter, she couldn't help but feel left out. The Phantoms were still doing fine without her.

Why did she feel like that? She was erbreichfreiin Petra von Stahl, sole heiress to the Stahl steelwork company and noble estate. She had been born into a blessed life. The future had been laid out for her since the day she was born. What more could someone of her status possibly want? Why did she miss the battlefield so?

Wishing them good luck dealing with Sarika and putting the letter away, she turned to the many documents that she had to deal with. She had gotten the hang of doing her father's work, not that she liked the idea.

Her father was never bothered that he only had a daughter, even after the untimely passing of his wife. As the sole inheritor of the Stahl name himself, he believed that fighting for the inheritance itself would doom the family name. 'My daughter can run the company as well as any man!' he had declared after being told to remarry for a male heir.

As such, she had always called herself a future baroness, but now she knew just how unprepared she was. She hadn't learnt how to manage the family business, nor the household and she certainly wasn't ready to lose her father.

But there was nothing she could do about her father's illness, the doctors said it was terminal. She was a Mage, yet she couldn't do something as simple as curing her father? What use was magic then?

Which led to her current situation. Just a lady of age 26, racing to inherit her father's knowledge. It had finally dawned upon her that in the end, Baron von Stahl was still mortal. She had a legacy to continue.

However despite everything she thought about her duty, her body yearned to be free. She had flown through the skies as a Mage, a freedom unimaginable to her father. Even though he too was a Mage, he never could understand her. He couldn't see why his daughter was so proud to have been dubbed the Red Baroness or the Banshee.

Putting down the pen, she got up and headed for her father's bedroom to give her report on the status of the mill.

Taking a seat next to her father's bed, Petra said aloud, "It's fortunate that you taught me how to run the company. I don't know how I'd be able to protect our legacy otherwise. It's just, I would rather you be healthy."

"Petra, if I was healthy, you'd still be out there fighting. I know you wish to continue, but the family needs you here. The war no longer concerns Osterreich," replied Baron von Stahl.

"But it concerns people I care about! They're out there fighting for the future. Who knows if this peace will last? It might crumble if we don't ensure victory soon. Who knows what injustices the enemy might impose on us!"

"You can help win the war by providing steel. You don't need to put yourself in danger anymore!"

"I can't just-" Petra began to retort, before getting interrupted by one of her father's coughing fits, "Hans! Call for the Physician!"



Behind the Trenches of the Western Front, Germania
25th January 1925



"Training Mages that can't fly. What a time to be alive," William tilted his head, trying to see if he was misreading the orders.

"I'm surprised they managed to dig up enough Type 13s, I would have thought they'd sell them to some other country," commented Wilbald.

"Commander. What is our plan of action?" queried Matheus, ready to begin.

Tanya began to explain her plan in detail, "We'll be teaching an accelerated course, get them used to the new doctrine as fast as possible. Casting spells as a coordinated group, enchanting artillery shells and the like."

"That'd be even harder than the boot camp for the 203rd! They probably don't even know how to channel their mana! We're expected to teach them how to do combination spells?"

"It's only a trial run, to see how viable the strategy is. We won't be teaching every batch."

William agreed, "As Major von Bastion taught, 'Push every advantage.' Maybe just this would be enough to force the dirty frogs to surrender."


Back when he was told he was not fit to be a Mage, Erik didn't mind it all that much, after all Mages were at a much higher risk of death than even infantry.

But now that he was being trained on how to be a 'Trench-mage', Erik found things really annoying. Sure he was still at a lower risk of death than a proper flightmage, but now he had to take up so much more responsibility.

First thing every morning, he was expected to practise spells like bullet enchantment and magical shields.

Afterwards, he was forced to practise the ridiculous new drills that the leaders had come up with. Why in the world was he expected to learn how to do artillery drills? Leave that idiocy to the actual artillerymen!

This was ridiculous. God, he hated this war.



Northern Army POW Camp, Germania
3rd February 1925



Life as a prisoner of war wasn't too bad. They were well looked after, the food was… acceptable. The only problem was the fact that they were still prisoners.

Anson lifted a spoonful of his bowl of gruel in boredom and thought to himself, 'Maybe I should have taken the deal.'

Oh, how he wished to have his wife's cooking instead of whatever this was. If only he could tell them he was still alive, just currently tied up. Mary would be so glad to see him again. But first, he had to remember to shave.

A shout from the overview caught his attention, it was the warden with an announcement.

"I have some unfortunate news, I know all of you would like to know when the exchange for prisoners would take place, but your government is in a bit of a mess right now. The protests are making it hard for us to establish any effective communication with them," he addressed.

Upon hearing this, many of the prisoners began to express their displeasure. The Legadonian government had failed their soldiers. What was the point of risking their lives for their nation if they weren't going to receive aid?

"Enough of that! Quiet down!" ordered the guards.

Sighing at the news, Anson downed the spoonful.

"Oh Lord, let me see my family soon."



Arkansas, Unified States
13th February 1925



Lillian Sue looked out the windows of her parent's home ever so often, looking at the mailbox, hoping for news.

She was worried sick. It had been three months since she had last heard anything from Legadonia. The riots had prevented any meaningful information from reaching her.

She had been told that most of the soldiers that participated in that last naval operation had been captured, but it would have been unlikely for Anson to surrender. She could only pray that he was safe.

She wasn't the only one who wished to know about Anson.

Mary had been despondent ever since getting on the boat, and it was painful for Lillian to see her usually bright daughter looking so gloomy.

"Oh Lord, bring a smile back upon her face."


Looking wistfully out the window, Mary wondered when she was going to hear the news.

Her father was too patriotic. Too responsible a soldier. He was willing to die for Legadonia. He wasn't coming back.

A few days after she left Legadonia, her dreams became more vivid. The shape of the Devil taking form. A beast in the form of a little girl. The monster that killed her father.

Once again, the gun had done nothing. The Devil would have stolen it and used it to take more lives.

She only had one option left. To take matters in her own hands. In a few months, she would be old enough to sign up with the Unified States' army. She'll put the Devil down this time.

"Oh Lord, give me the strength to crush the Devil."



Western Front, Germania
29th March 1925



The soldier sighed in boredom. Manning the radio set was hardly the most glorious job for a proud Francois soldier like himself, but someone had to do it. It was just the role that the he had been entrusted with.

Recently, there has been nothing new on the radio. It seemed that the cowards from the East had taken up a more defensive approach. Perhaps it was a sign of the war turning to their favour.

From the clatter of the static, a voice rang out, "Mage presence at sector B-34, B-36, B-38 and B-42, infantry taking heavy casualties! Requesting backup! Come quickly!"

The signaller felt his jaw drop upon hearing the multitude of threats that suddenly appeared.

"Roger, we'll have our Mages there in no time!" replied the signaller hurriedly.


"We're at sector B-34! Where are the Mages? Are they using their invisibility spells?" spoke the Francois Flight Mage, looking at the trenchline.

"That's a negative, I don't see a single Mana signature here," answered his partner, trying to spot their enemy.

"Wait, the infantry here is perfectly fine. Did they make a mistake? There is nothing here."

A single shot proved him wrong. Death from above. Several more sniper shots rained down, finishing a battle that hadn't even started.


"Well, that proves it then. Their infantry can't see through our camouflage. Whereas the Mages need to be looking in our direction to see us and they never look up," Tanya said with a grin.

Reloading her weapon after shooting fish in a barrel, Frida voiced out her disbelief, "That was dirty, sneaking into their communications and sending in fake reports to divide their strength? And I thought cloaking was already dishonourable."

Tanya weighed her words, before deciding to take it as a compliment, "Don't celebrate too quickly, they'll figure it out soon enough. Our enemy isn't as dumb as we would like. We'll need to push before they do. Advance!"


Major Hosman readied his men. The reinforcements that were sent to Sector B-34 and B-38 had also gone dark. It meant that the enemy was advancing. He had to stop them before they got further.

"Defend against the enemy! Prepare your Mana-lens!"

Spotting silhouettes of mana, the Republican soldiers began to fire. Only for the rounds to go through the decoys.

"Those are decoys! The real Mages are-" the shouts of a Lieutenant were cut short.

"They're above us and uncloaked! Fire!" finished the Major.

"Mana signature identified! It's the Devil of Rhine!"

The enemy had the advantage of altitude. But Major Hosman was ready, his mounted machine guns began to fire.

Unfortunately, they were shot off from two quick shots from behind. There were enemies behind him!

Before he could turn to face the new threat, he was dead. Shredded by metal. The last thing he heard was, "Adieu."

The Francois Mage battalion was quite literally crushed between the Germanian battalion from above and the Ostero-Ungarian battalion coming from behind.

Stuck between the anvil that prevented their retreat and the hammer that came from above, there was little they could do to fight back.


Wiping the blood off his face before facing Tanya, Marcel gave an apology. "Sorry I'm late. Taking the flank was a bit of a drag."

"Don't worry about it. Is everything fine?" Tanya asked.

"All good, the trench Mages sent the Francois infantry packing once you cleared out their air defence. A few more times and we'd have the old front line back again."

"I meant you. You didn't have to go in so close, there's no need to put yourself in any extra danger. The battles aren't that important."

"I suppose you're right, I'll try to be less impulsive."

That didn't exactly reassure her. Marcel has definitely been taking a lot more unnecessary risks ever since that day.

Laughing the topic away, Marcel continued, "It's a good thing I have Captain Huszar's company to cover for our lacking manpower."

"Sarika does her best!"

"Having an extra Company is helpful. Especially if it's run by someone you know well. Lieutenant Stein over here was Major von Degurechaff's wingman for a while," agreed Visha, pulling the Lieutenant over.

Marcel replied, "Tanya's old wingman? That's impressive in its own right. Good job keeping up with her."

Hiding her face, Frida responded quietly, "Oh. Thank you."



Sector B-56, Eastern Front, Francois Republic
5th April 1925



Lieutenant Colonel Vianto wrinkled his nose at the smell of the battlefield. The scent of death.

He had come here as soon as he heard of Hosman's defeat at the hands of the Devil of Rhine.

Major Hosman was a Mage-Killer, his Battalion was supposed to have been able to counter the Germanian Mages. His mount had been specifically equipped with two mounted heavy guns to shatter shields.

Yet it seemed he had been crushed instantly and quite literally too. What used to be the Mage and his mount had been shredded and mixed into the ground.

Wait. That was strange. The marks left behind by the weapon that killed him came from… behind.

Most of the other Mages were found in craters. Struck from above. But a few were killed the same way as the Major. The marks left on the ground showing up like a meteor shower, leaving behind several streaks. A Trench gun?

"They were struck from two abnormal directions, before they even left the ground. They were crushed by a single shot from above, or by overwhelming projectiles from behind. The enemy didn't engage them from the front," he began to note down his thoughts.

They were flanked, preventing the Mana-lens from working well. But how did the enemy get behind them?

Needing answers, Severin asked, "What is the status of the sectors around this area?"

"It seems the Mages in both sectors B-34 and B-38 were attacked at about the same time. The Mages were overwhelmed shortly before Sector B-56 was attacked."

"How did they overcome the defences so quickly? There should have been at least a battalion on quick response!"

"The quick response battalion was divided into several companies when they received a report that a few small scale mage attacks were happening in multiple sectors. But instead there were two battalions worth of enemies in only two sectors, one of them being the Devil's. The two battalions overpowered the defenders."

"The enemy split their force and surrounded the Special Ops Battalion. The report said that the Devil came from above. So who came from behind? I've heard nothing about Mages using Trench guns."

"It seems like they're only used by the Ostero-Ungarians. The first reports of Mages with unconventional weapons started about the same time as the appearance of Ostero-Ungarian reinforcements."

This attack broke every rule we knew about the Imperial Mage doctrine… A multidirectional attack? The Devil of Rhine is not to be trifled with. And now we have to worry about other elites? Wait. This is a strategy anyone could use with enough planning.

"It seems like the declining Empires have handed us a strategy to use. Do we have any battalions to spare?"



Western Front, Germania
6th April 1925



There was a commotion within the 203rd Battalion. They had new orders coming in.

"First it was training flightless mages. Now they want us to train fresh cadets. They'd be greener than the moss that Grantz grows on his socks," mocked William, taking a look at the instructions.

"My socks are cleaner than yours, Walter! I've seen the mushrooms you cultivate in your boots!" replied Vooren, snatching the document.

"That's enough, we can discuss the flora growing in your footwear some other time. Our major has more details for us," requested Visha, speaking for her superior.

With a grimace, Tanya began to elaborate on the orders, "I'd prefer it if we never ever discuss foot vegetation. But that's besides the point. Command wants us to train up a few batches of Flight Mages so that they won't instantly get devoured by the meat grinder. They're putting emphasis on keeping as many Mages alive as possible."

"And you want my company to assist you?" asked Frida hesitantly.

"Is there a problem with that? We work so well together, Lieutenant Stein. Why would I ever wish to let you go?" she replied with a grin.


Frida took off her uniform as she entered her own tent. Sighing, she plopped the 'lesson plan' Tanya had drawn up for the future lessons on her table and laid in her bed.

She had been too busy fighting for her life before. Having finally some time to herself, Frida gathered her thoughts.

Marcel didn't recognise her, after the many interactions they had. He only saw her as Major von Degurechaff's wingman. There wasn't anything left of her childhood friend. So why was it that she couldn't stop thinking about him?

It was only three years and it meant nothing to him, so why should she care so much?

Why did she feel like they had spent so much more time together? She wasn't as afraid of interacting with him as she was with Tanya, so why the hell did her heart still race every time he spoke to her?


"Okay, I'm going to need you to explain everything from the beginning. Who's director Stein? And what does Frida have anything to do with some movie director?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself? Frida Stein, the little girl you spent most of your childhood with? When Maman was acting, you'd go play with her. You forgot the one person who could stand your insufferable personality, she was your only friend. Unbelievable."

"I've not seen her since we moved! I've had so many more things to deal with since then. You can't blame me for that."

"Fine, whatever. It's good to see her again. I guess I have to thank your 'sister' for taking care of her. If you can prevent the disaster from happening, I suppose I could forgive her."

"I need more information, why do you care so much about her?"

"Well then, sit tight and hear my story of suffering and death."



What a shift in tactics! But... there are still so many questions.



It's fine if you wish to discuss older chapter in this thread, but you're always invited to do so in my discord server instead.
 
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