The next day, a lurid newspaper article castigated the Free Arene men as "abominable terrorists" and that only the brave actions of "heroic Tanya" saved her guests from being blown up by their attack. Fortunately no one (important) died at the charity event but there were numerous injuries. One paper described her as tearfully running off after a heart-rending apology on what should have been a triumph in her life.
Gladieau was reading the morning papers aloud with relish as Tanya squirmed on the bed of her hotel room suite.. The reason for their location was her heavily bandaged feet and the need for numerous guards as they didn't want to risk her in a public hospital. The lawyer had missed the festivities due to tasks undisclosed and was glad for it now! "Is this what really happened?"
"No! Well, technically, yes. But not really." Felite pustled around, plumping pillows for Tanya and making sure her coffee was freshened.
The lawyer merely raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were probably going to use a military grade spell so a good chunk of the room would have gone up. And yes, I rushed out after apologizing."
"The tears?"
"My feet were on fire! I dare anyone not to shed a tear or two under those circumstances! That reminds me, order a half dozen pairs of these shoes with bigger gems. Let the designer make whatever choices she wants as long as I can get them before I leave."
"The ones you were wearing last night. The fiery ones."
"They only caught fire because I was pushing them in an emergency situation. They saved my life so a hotfoot is a small price to pay. Besides I only received second degree burns, hardly worth noticing." Tanya had turned over the mage ammunition but conveniently forgot the cane which she was currently examining. Either the police were incompetent or they were looking the other way on this matter. She had signed various things for them (mostly pictures she never remembered posing for), so she was leaning toward the latter theory.
She hefted the short cane marvelled at how well made it was. Only good for one shot, true, but it wasn't meant to be a combat weapon. The barrel was disguised as polished wood and the ferrule served to cap the barrel and protect from objects getting inside. The spherical handle resembled crystal mounted on a gold shaft but hidden inside the collar area was a small, but relatively powerful computation orb. The most interesting part was the crystal managed to disguise the presence of the orb even when under active detection. Given her injuries, a cane wouldn't seem out of place and she felt less naked with it around so she decided to add it to her ensemble.
Using it had been... odd. She had years of experience with computation orbs and learning how to use a new one wasn't that difficult, much like driving an unfamiliar car. But something about honing her own magical path had slowed her down when activating it. Not reduced her ability, no, it had enhanced her ability and that additional complexity is what made it harder.
Gladieau shuddered as he looked at it. "Why do you insist on playing with that deadly thing? Orbs are a menace!"
"Oh, they aren't that bad. Admittedly they've seen more use in war than any other venue due to expense, but it's just a tool." She twirled it one hand like a baton and then stopped it in her grip. "And this one is particularly nice and particularly interesting. It's not really a general purpose weapon, you realize."
"Ah, I do?"
She tried – and failed – to not roll her eyes. "It's an assassination tool. You'd never take this to battle, but the ability to hide the orb, the cane disguise, the limitation of only a single round... all of these point to a 'one and done' weapon. Even the length of the barrel is just enough to get off a good medium-range shot and give time for the mage to escape." She didn't bother to mention that most of the orb features really weren't for combat either. For example, it had a much better array of illusion features and much less variety in bullet enhancement. "If that fellow wasn't so fond of drama, I never would have seen the bullet coming... the room would have just blown up with me in it."
"By all accounts, they seemed quite confident."
"Honestly, they had reason to be! That many people backed by a mage and me weaponless, it exceeds mere chance that I escaped almost unharmed." Someone else might have thanked God at this point but she'd rather be literally damned than do that. "I realize that a moving target is hard and we've been moving very fast to get to this border city. Despite that, those idiots didn't even have a semblance of coordination."
She twirled the cane, making Gladieau pale again despite it being unloaded.
* * *
Elsewhere in the city
The remaining Free Arene cell members were huddled in a basement, worried that the gendarmes would be breaking down the door at any moment. Most were still stunned that their night of victory turned into a harried rout as they retreated to their last safehouse in the city. After this last meeting, they were to separate to throw off any chance discovery would capture everyone.
"What the hell happened?! He was perfectly placed to take out the Devil and he never even took the shot!" The former#2, now the cell leader, ranted while gesticulating wildly.
An older man, missing one hand, scowled as he rocked forward and back. "The Devil's own luck, the Devil's own luck..." He continued to mutter the phrase, ignored by everyone.
A sometimes-maid turned spy almost agreed with him. "There were no leaks, his cover was flawless. Do you think she'd have poked her nose in there if there was any idea what was going to happen?"
"Maybe he got cold feet, hesitated?"
"No, no, no! Even the newspapers said he was... determined." They said many other, less flattering things, as well. "But they are blaming us for all the damage, all the injuries. The people with power who were helping us in the shadows have vanished. If anyone turns us in, it will be them!"
"How? P-please tell me how?" The youngest cell member was curled on the floor... his most desired dream, revenge against Degurechaff had collapsed in mere hours. He had had just one night free of the nightmares of Arene but now they were back and worse than ever... while he was still awake.
The cell leader kicked a stool with all his might! It flew across the room and nearly shattered against the cellar well. "Most of all... who the fuck were all those other people?!"
* * *
The old man clutched the arms of his wheelchair as he got the news. Mr. Clark's rheumy eyes teared up but he refused to let a drop fall while listening to the intermediary's report. There would be plenty of time for that later. "Nigel... you're telling me that three of best assassins that money can buy couldn't take out ONE unarmed girl? Is this what I'm hearing?"
He glanced at a picture he always kept on his desk. A smiling man stared back at him wearing a Commonwealth uniform. Peter was a charismatic man, loved by all who knew him, and not given to acts of heroism. But he had volunteered to work right on the front to gather intel about Rusted Silver as an act of pure patriotism. When asked why, he just bragged how he would have a trunkfull of stories to tell and would be able to charm the pants off of any women who would listen.
What he got was a funeral with an empty casket. Nothing was left of the observation base but a crater.
The mousy man winced at the use of blunt (and admissable in a court of law) language. "Mr. Clark, there was nothing to be done. Our fixers were in the right place with a good plan. Without that inteference, it would have been a simple..."
"Don't talk to me about simple!" he roared! "My son's grave is empty and that damned monster still walks the Earth. You get one more chance and I'll either have her head in box... or yours!"
* * *
A single Dacian, having gotten lost the night before, decided that spending an entire day drinking was in order. Followed by a day in confession and thankful penance for his poor navigation skills. He had no intention of confessing what he HADN'T done, so he figured it was better to sin heavily first before he went to church.
As for the two teammates who HAD gone to the right place... well, he could pray for their souls tomorrow too. Maybe give them a boost to the right, errr, afterplace.
* * *
Pavel was sweating, both literally and figuratively. An entire squad of elite assassins were now in custody. Thankfully post mortem, as it would be painfully obvious where they were from just by their accent and language.
"Loria will have me skinned alive... if I'm lucky! How do I relay this, how, how, how?! I know, I know, when the wolves are at the door, you need to feed them meat, right?" One could easily imagine his ancestors pushing someone out of a wagon being chased by a ravenous pack of monsters in order to escape from becoming dinner.
"So, let's work with this. Let's say that squad 1 was under Louis and squad 2 under me... fix a few reports and that makes it so. And then Louis betrayed his own squad... but why? Ah, yes, yes! He fell in love with that witchy girl! It's a motive that Loria would thoroughly believe." Pavel wasn't a good man, by any means, but as long as Loria was alive there was at least one person he could feel morally superior to. He knew well the stories around the man were, if anything, understated.
"Good, this is good! Let's write up the report, throw blame where it belongs and start the hunt for evil Louis, the betrayer." He rubbed his hands together as he sat in front of his typewriter. "I should probably... include a copy of the Picture Album, too. He would like that."
* * *
Two sisters (known only as Astrid and Nova by only a select few) were sipping tea casually across the street from the Opera House the next day. Both sported blonde hair so pale, it looked like silver in dim light. Their appearance, and their accent, marked them as from the Etnente Alliance though they could change their accent in the space of seconds. Last night, both sported very natural-looking brunette hair and impeccable lower-class Republic mannerisms.
Astrid, the older sister, shook her head. "What a disaster. But it could be worse, I suppose."
"Well, yes, of course anything can be worse, but I fail to see how that observation helps us."
"Just conversation sister, pay no attention. The unfortunate part is that we can't count this, so we still owe them for the attempt."
"What! We did try... it's not our fault those hamfisted fools messed us up. I say this counts! The new Council of Ten might be cheap bastards but..."
"Did you even draw your weapon? Work a spell? Or even catch sight of her, hmmm, Nova?"
She didn't answer the rhetorical questions. "We were ready and it would've worked, I'm positve."
Astrid drew rings on the table with a bit of spilled tea. "Actually, I'm not so sure. Yesterday's yesterday, I tried a scrying and victory was assured. Today, the death signs were so strong that it might as well been for a different person. Something happened to her between then and now and I'm afraid we would be corpses as well had we not been interrupted."
"Well, are you going to tell me or just let me wallow in ignorance?"
"Answer one is 'yes', and answer two is 'there's no helping that.'" Before her sister could protest, she continued. "I see her striding the Earth like a giant, like a goddess. Her right hand brings blessings, while her left, devastation. Where she walks, there is destruction but her footprints are filled with flowers. When she speaks, armies rise to her command and..."
"Yes, yes?" Nova leaned forward afraid to miss even a single word.
"And when she sings, she brings the end of all things."
Chapter 20 Kartoffel
At the beginning of the trials in Berun...
Zettour looked at the intelligence officer with a quiet intensity that made the younger man swallow heavily. Though not his direct superior, only an idiot would willingly get on the general's bad side. Though the war had been lost, it was almost universally understood (though never stated out loud) that the military had overcome herculean tasks time and time again but were unable to achieve the impossible in the end.
"Are you trying to tell me that the Intelligence department can't get up to date information about our officer on trial... during peacetime?" Zettour had heard that von Degurechaff once destroyed a decoration from this department so frustrated she was with them. He fully understood her emotions!
"General, it's not that easy! The tribunal's security is extraordinary and they have denied all access to her! We are not even allowed to send her messages or provide counsel so we have no means of communication. By public reports and relayed testimony, she seems in good health."
"I see. 'seems in good health', when they trot her out for their 'impartial tribunal'. Is that what you are saying, Major?"
He felt himself sweating and wishing he were anywhere else... even the Russy front would be preferable to this! "There is some good news. The trials are to be made public and so copies of the broadcast could be smuggled to us."
"So our best, and only, source of news is what they are voluntarily giving out." He tapped his desk lightly with one finger but it sounded like rifle shots to the Major. "The Lt. Colonel built the finest battalion I've ever seen... one of her chief methods was in selection and training. Ruthless culling of the unfit and the most extreme methods to bring out the best of the rest. Perhaps in this post-war period, we need to adopt some of her methods." He polished his monacle with a cloth he kept just for that purpose. "Not just for mages, but all our staff. What was it she said? Something about the incompetent draining our resources being functionally no different from enemies in our ranks?"
The major, as it turns out, was very familiar with the hell she had put her most loyal troops through. And even at the risk of his own pension, he had no stomach to experience it personally. "General I don't think..."
"Obviously." The word was so cold that the major couldn't continue. "Given this 'peace' forced on us by the political office, we have no choice but to reduce the size of our military. I find myself speculating if that isn't a good thing? A smaller force with a higher caliber of soldiers. Makes you wonder at the possibilities." His gaze was unflinching.
"I'll do my utmost, sir!"
"See to it. Dismissed."
* * *
Ironically, the most sought-after unit in the war was idle during this time. Why? According to the tattered remnants of ther interior-lines strategy, their sort of rapid-response unit was best placed not on a quiet front but instead in the heart of the Empire, waiting for a threat to respond to. The fact that they had multiple months of leave owed to them was just a happy coincidence.
Even the shameless Russy Federation was unlikely to break a peace when they were, in fact, on the winning side. The Empire never had far-flung colonies or satellite states to manage so, given that their borders were reset ab initio there was literally nothing to take from them that wouldn't cause the other 'winners' to protest. Allies of convenience, they trusted each other far less than their erstwhile enemy! This balance, though fragile, protected the Empire better than any words on paper.
So the 203rd was given something they hadn't received since their formation: unrestricted leave for a solid three months. A token flight would remain in Berun at all times, but a good three quarters were given permission to finally get the rest they had earned many times over.
Normally this would be a cause for great enjoyment but the mood in their barracks was nothing but grim. Almost as bad as Tanya's secret surrender to the Republic, was the information blackout they were suffering under. The Political Office, the only ones who could formally protest the situation, were instead complicit with her 'sale' to their enemies. A price their commander paid without protest or even giving word! If not for Serebryakova's accidental discovery, they wouldn't have even known the date of her departure.
Tanya's commanders were meeting in the Colonel's office... with closed doors. Major Weiss struggled to come up something to say, a command to give them and finally just said, "What do we do?"
"It's obviously a setup! They'll have their fake trial and kill the Colonel in the end. We all know it, so why are we sitting here?" Neumann's face was reddening with obvious anger and his clenched fists appeared to be ready to beat down something, anything.
Koenig shook his head. "Tall order. Fifty of us against the whole world."
Visha listened to the other's argue back and forth and then finally spoke up. The others quieted immediately. Woman though she may be, no one in the 203rd would ever look down women in general, and Serebryakova in particular. "The commander wouldn't have gone if she didn't have a plan."
"Hell, she's always the first in if it could protect us or the Fatherland!"
"Yes, but not without a path out! She has a plan but couldn't tell us about it. They moved too quickly and she was probably being watched. I only found out by accident."
"Does that mean we do nothing?" Weiss protested.
"No! But remember that the Colonel counts on us to use our heads too. She can't tell us what we need to do because she knows we'll do the right thing without being ordered." She pointed a map that was used to plan the war not too long ago. "She's in the Republic alone because what she needs to do can be done by herself. Don't you see that she would have found a way to bring someone along if it was necessary? That means our task does NOT directly involve her."
"Our task... our task!" Weiss, who had been quiet until now jumped up as if he had a revelation. "We can't fight the tribunal. We can't fight their army. We can't fight their government. But what are they afraid of... it's not us. It's each other! They got into the war because of fear or pride or hatred; the Colonel said that over and over again." He quoted, "Everyone who does wicked things hates the light, and does not come into the Light, lest his works should be exposed."
Visha said, "So because they are trying to keep everything quiet and controlled..."
Koenig smiled, an expression not dissimilar to that of their commander. "...we should make sure everyone knows everything."
* * *
Erya had always told Visha that she was an 'observer' even after her observations were less along the lines of spotting artillery encroachments and more towards ferreting out information. She considered pulp novels where people woud sneak into high security areas and take pictures of secret documents with cleverly-disguised cameras to be rank amateurs. Any information you might need was ALSO known by people and you just had to get the people to tell you what they know.
It's amazing how much someone might say when a pretty girl looks appropriately appreciative as they brag about their job.
Plus she was smart enough never to go after the big fish. That was a way to get hooked yourself! No, she threw her line in shallow waters as any sizeable secret was surrounded by other, smaller, secrets that was just as good if you knew how to fit the puzzle together.
She was on such a fishing expedition in the Francois Republic posing as a clueless tourist whose knowledge of the language was sketchy at best. Even better than the servants of old monarchs who were deaf and dumb, being ditzy and cute AND not speaking the language made tongues wag even harder some times.
Of course, the topic was Lt. Colonel von Degurechaff. She had a cleverly disguised recording orb that, if searched, would only reveal tourist pictures of the lovely Republic and one, apparently accidental, recording of Erya bathing in a steamy Parisee bathhouse. It had been examined at least three times and no one had found the secret recordings yet.
Despite taking quite the long time investigating the orb all those times.
Still, she was a bit confused when she was pulled off of that rather important project in order to help a train buff... improve the mail system in the Republic?
"Kristoff, could you run this by me in detail? The message I got from command was cryptic at best." They were seated on a blanket eating lunch, ostensibly a picnic, and just coincidentally too far for anyone to overhear them.
"Intelligence was copies of the trial recordings sent back."
"Isn't that what I'm doing already?"
"They want it fast. As in as fast as is technologically possible." Kristoff sounded frustrated. He'd love nothing better than to have an express train between Parisee and Berun... what a marvel that would be! But he was no John Henry! He was a sleeper agent in the Republic and sent back casual information to his 'cousin' in the the Empire once in awhile. But he was never intended to be any sort of super spy.
"I see. So the choices are to use the laughably inefficient Francois mail service, or to make something on our own that would be glaringly obvious to anyone who decided to take a look?"
"That's about it. Even a 'pony express' style handoff route can't be justified. It would be like waving a red flag to have people going on a route between here and there on a regular basis. Even Degurechaff's mages can't fly blatantly in the Republic."
She thought on this. "Your cover is something like a third assistant to the railway department?"
"Pretty much. They lost so many men during the War, that they were desperate for competent people. I could have pushed for a higher position but I'm keeping a low profile. They made an offer just a few weeks ago, in fact."
"Take it. Get a high enough placement that you can set schedules for the Parisee to Strasbourg line."
"No problem, they said I could pick my position if I would just accept the promotion. Then what?"
"Then, you get to play toy trains on a scale you never dreamed imagineable!"
For years later, it was a minor puzzle to the rail department of the Republic how one department managed unheard-of efficiencies when compared to the rest of their network. Eventually, someone was put in charge and 'improved' it to the point it was functioning on par with the other lines.
* * *
The puzzle actually had many parts. One was a dedicated railroad fanatic. Another was a very detailed proposal by Tanya herself on how to make commercial rail service more efficient. But the last important piece was a dozen of the most dangerous mages on the continent crowded together into a far too-small shipping office with Kristoff explaining what changes need to be made.
"Okay, the problem is that the new system is enormously efficient but there'll be a transition period before it can be put into effect. It'll be better in every way ONCE it's in place but the minor disruptions in implementing the changes will cause people to balk." Kristoff sighed somewhat dramatically. "There could be soup raining from heaven but they'll complain that they have to change their socks!"
Koenig asked, "Which of the changes do you want to implement and what do you need help with?"
"First is standardized addressing and requiring the use of numeric postal codes. Mail bins that are labelled with the codes on the outside for faster loading and unloading. Standardized sorting, standardized everything! But it takes time to train my workers and even more time to train the public. During that time, the mail still needs to be delivered at least up to the current slipshod expectations."
The mage frowned. "Is that even an issue?"
"What do you mean? We can't just throw them away. The big deliveries will function as normal for now, but ten percent of the weight is ninety percent of the mail by piece."
"What I'm saying is that we mages are far faster than any train. Set us up on every leg that needs help just to tide you over until your plans are in place. How long do you need?"
"Ten days tops for most of them. Two weeks for the knuckleheads."
"What if they can't learn in two weeks?" Koenig asked with a grin.
"Then they get to experience the joys of delivering mail on foot. Someone has to go the final mile, yes?"
* * *
Copies of a highly-dramaticized account of Tanya's life began circulating in the Empire... the latest creation of Kartoffel. While technically it was just an editing of Ihr Kampf, it highlighted the story over her accomplishments. Artistic liberties abounded and the average education level required to enjoy it had dropped from post graduate to middle school.
Almost by accident, Visha and Erya discovered they had happened on the same plan when the bumped into each other at the publisher. Either alone might have a hard time convincing him to make a Francois edition but when two beautiful women asked for the same thing, he began to come around.
They sat in a cafe, catching up in a way one cannot do with letters. Erya groaned, "Don't talk to me about letters! I've been helping a friend set up a network to ship things back to Berun more efficiently."
"It all helps. We get info quicker and we can ship these," she tapped the Germania version of Childhood Lost, "all the more efficiently. Have you read it yet?"
"I have! It seems light but is entertaining. Any idea who 'Kartoffel' is?"
"No, no I don't. And some of the minor details." Visha frown slightly, a wrinkle forming in her brow. "Some of those details only an insider would know. Nothing hurtful for the Colonel, but it must be someone close to us."
"Or someone close to someone close to you. That's more likely the case. But they seem to be a friend as our dear Argent comes off very sympathetically here."
"She's going to be... unhappy when she reads this." The book highlighted her orphan background, the soldier father she never knew, her struggles in school where everyone was larger and stronger than she was (and overwhelmingly male). Rather than emphasizing her heroic victories, it chose to concentrate on how far she had to come to even be in a place to achieve them. "She hates being thought of as weak."
"Trust me, it doesn't make her look weak. It makes her human. People are going to adore this book. Even people who hate her are inordinantly curious. Who is Argent? What makes her tick? Where did she come from? How does she think? This goes beyond love or hate."
"Beyond love or hate. That describes her so well. I once asked her if, if she missed not having parents. She just looked at me, slightly puzzled as if the question had no meaning. And you know what she said? 'How do you miss something you never had?' She's so magnificent in what she does, you can forget what she lacks."
Erya popped a delightful little pastry into her mouth and chewed with obvious pleasure. "Dear Visha, that's why she has us, no?"
* * *
Neumann, despite not being really fluent in Francois, turned out to having a charming air about him that went far in bringing down people's defenses. He had long since lost track of how many towns he had visited but the formula was the same each time. In every town, there would be someplace where people would gather, gossip and pass the time. It might be a park, a bar, the town hall... somewhere. Next, he would show up with a copy of "Childhood Lost" with Tanya's face emblazoned on the cover. Inevitably, someone would ask him about it and he'd honestly describe the contents. But always, at the end, he'd say. "There's a Francois version coming out soon, ask your local bookseller when it's coming out.
Eight other mages were doing the same thing, though with somewhat less success. And nine queries became nineteen. And nineteen became ninety. And so on. Soon the demand for a book that didn't exist reached such a height that book store owners were sending daily, very harshly worded, inquiries about when they could get their orders filled!
In the latest town, he had casually left a copy on a table when he went to the washroom. It was gone by the time he got back. He just grinned and quietly left. If spreading the word depended on people's greed, well, he had plenty more copies back in his luggage.
* * *
Mail runs from Parisee to the border had become outrageously fast... to the point where they were reaching the theoretical maximum speed a parcel could be delivered by train in the Republic. Koenig even managed to up that maximum a bit by suggesting that a postal worker ride ON the train to sort mail while the train was moving to save even more time.
It was a minor struggle to convince the users of the post (and the postal workers as well!) to accept all the changes. So Kristoff used the simplest argument: money. Properly addressed mail shipped at a discount. Productive workers and those who learned fastest got bonuses. He paid for it all by the increase in mail usage and, in fact, turned a tidy profit after only a month.
"Emile! Good job, good job." Kristoff clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Here's your 1000 mile badge and look for my thanks in your next paycheck."
Emile grinned and replaced his '500 mile' badge with the new one. "I doubted you, postmaster, but the riding shift isn't as bad as I thought. Bumpy and it could be quieter but not bad all in all." He polished the new badge with the cuff of his shirt cuff. "I'll make sure to spend the bonus on something fun, ha ha!"
The badges had been an idea by one of the mages but, in fact, all the mages who worked the line were happy to share their experiences and suggestions. "You can't give 'em medals for delivering the mail but everyone likes recognition, y'know? More than a few soldiers died in the war keeping the supplies running on time, so it's not too crazy, right?"
Esprit de corps extended beyond the military. Kristoff made them proud to do a good job and so they did a great job.
There were other changes as well. He had a hard time hiring new workers to handle the increased workload. He grumbled to Erya on one of her trips through his station. "So many men died in the War, that I can't get enough manpower to handle things."
"My friend, have you gotten stupid in just a few weeks?"
"Eh? Well, maybe. What do you mean?"
"You can't hire men, why not women or even children? They can't handle the big bins but I bet they can sort just as well as anyone and they can man the desk."
"Erya... I have gotten stupid! I'm sure there are a lot of girls who wouldn't mind part time work. And if they can handle it, I can make them full time. As there aren't enough men, there are plenty of unmarried women and, sadly, widows out there. This might help out both here and back home."
An unexpected bonus came later as 'filles de courrier', as they were called became a minor sensation. With the cute uniforms and public face, it became the premier job for women who were looking for husbands... but that was only long after their mission had been completed successfully.
* * *
General Rerugen monitored the situation, naturally. While Zettour and Rudersdorf were in charge preparing their armies for the next war, whenever it might come, he was to keep his eyes facing outward. He was pleasantly surprised at how fast Erya was able to set up a reliable communication channel to Parisee that made what the Intelligence Department had offered in the past look like mule-drawn carriages. He also turned a blind eye to the doings of the 203rd... as long as they didn't start any trouble, he wouldn't interfere.
He listened, heart in throat, to the tribunal broadcasts. Even knowing what he knew, he couldn't help but cheer for her. She was toying with the judges and prosecutors. He could imagine her wicked smile as she shredded their arguments much like the one she sported when she found out she do what she wanted to the Dacians. A predatory grin suited to the ultimate predator!
Still, he couldn't spend all his time re-listening to the broadcasts or the excuses Intelligence was giving him. He had a job outside of the Lt. Colonel but even he couldn't ignore when a book was put on his desk where it lay untouched for a week.
Initially dismissing "Childhood Lost" as cheap propaganda, he was forced to change his mind when sales started to climb. And climb. And climb even higher! The Germanian edition wasn't alone as it was followed by the Francois copies, the Anglish version, and so on. He finally forced himself to read it.
"Hmm... this is suprisingly well done. Not exactly a reliable history but more like a dramatized play." He found himself engrossed in the story when he suddenly stopped, closed the book and put it down. An unnoticed bead of sweat made its way down his forehead even as a chill overtook him.
"This isn't a biography. This isn't a biography at all! It's a whitewashing of ever sin she's ever committed! If this is all anyone ever knew of her, they would think she was just a lonely orphan that was given a rifle and thrown directly into battle."
The implications raced through his head. "Wait, it's worse than that. She has a plan with this book, but what is it? No doubt she's still a patriot, but this is preparing for some grand scheme. Preparing us for the NEW Tanya von Degurechaff."
The General slept very little that night. Or the next which is when he received a copy of the song that almost burned Parisee to the ground.
"Mein Gott! She is the most dangerous person I know! Do I even want her to return? Is she a danger to the Empire... or even the world?" He mixed a strong drink, unusual for him this early in the day and drank it without tasting it. He let out a grim laugh. "Does it even matter where she is?"
* * *
Anluk Kahteijanen shuffled to his desk after walking around his property. Food poisoning had ravaged his body which had caused him to miss the last half of the war... maybe even saved his life. He did get a nice pension, which continued due to the Colonel's peremptory demand, no matter how bad the budget might have gotten. He could do the things a normal man his age could do, perhaps just a bit slower. Recovery continued though it, too, had slowed in pace.
"Ah, commander, I hope you are well." He kept a bottle of fine wine on his desk as he had promised to share one with her when she came of age. The box that kept the wine from the harsh light of the sun revealed that it was a very nice vintage. There was a case of nearly as good bottles in the cellar to share with his old comrades but he liked to keep this one nearby for inspiration. To avoid stress on his own body, he had become a teetotaler as well but he fully intended to share this with her one day soon.
For the war effort, he had turned in his computation orb without a qualm but Visha had managed to snag him a captured Francois orb. Not as good as a type-97 but a godsend for someone who was having problems getting around at first. This, too, he knew came to him with von Degurechaff's blessings.
He pulled his office chair closer to the desk as he loosened his shoulders for another day of work. Anluk put his hands on the keys and thought for a moment.
Then Kartoffel began to type.
Chapter 21 – Homeward bound
The crowds as she was leaving the station were immense. As far as the eye could see with little regard to either traffic laws or common sense. She was tempted to sing a farewell as had become her habit but she was afraid that it would take a wall of speakers twenty feet high to be heard over the cheering throngs. So she contented herself with just waving with her free hand.
Her other hand was using her new cane as her feet were still bandaged though she could stand with difficulty by using a new pair of 'lift' shoes. In addition, she was wearing an attractive dress that she was very, very slowly getting used to. Honestly, she would have preferred to wear her uniform but it was hopelessly short on her now and the boots would be impossible at any rate.
Gladieau had picked out the dress, of course.
The train puffed its out of the city and onto the bridge that crossed the Rhine river. It moved slowly enough that they could see Tanya as more than just a blur moving by. More fans waved from the riverbank and along the tracks. "Allard, is it my misremembering or has the demographics of the crowds shifted significantly?"
"Eh? In what way?"
"Doesn't there seem to be far more girls than in the beginning? School aged ones, to be specific?" She continued to wave and the girls in question got very excited when they made eye contact and waved what she thought were empire flags from the distance but turned out to be books that had black, white and red on their covers.
"You're popular with everybody so how is one to tell? All have their reasons... some are lovers of music. Most surely. Others find your cause to be noble and just. But those girls, ah those girls!"
"Don't 'ah those girls' at me, just spit it out!"
"It is simple. They admire you and look up to you!"
"Surely not. I conquered their country, laid waste to large sections of it, killed countless people. What is there to admire?"
He waved off her arguments with a fine Gallic disregard for trivialities. "You see them clearly, but you cannot see the you reflected in their eyes. Who doesn't feel weak or powerless or without direction at some point in their lives. Perhaps young girls more than most, eh? What they see is someone exactly their age who has changed the world!"
"We lost, though," she said dryly.
"It matters not! Who doesn't know your name? When the Devil's mask is removed, there is Tanya, a girl who made a difference. Good or ill, I do not judge... nor do they! They see strength and think, 'Maybe, I too have that kind of strength as well.'"
"It's good that I'm leaving the country, then. Someone less scrupulous than me might try to take advantage of them." And more male than me, damn you Being X!
"All those war stories aside, the von Degurechaff I know would never harm a child. And no one who sings like you moreover!"
"Haven't you heard that even the Devil quotes scripture? Why can't he sing hymns, too?"
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" He laughed uproariously! "When your music touches someone's soul, do you not think they see a part of you as well? I am no cheering schoolgirl and I trust you."
"Allard, you are the biggest and manliest cheering schoolgirl of them all."
This just made him laugh even harder!
* * *
Between the two countries was a buffer zone, theoretically maintained by treaty, that belonged to neither country. The Empire snidely (though correctly) pointed out that they were the only ones who ever obeyed the agreement but it did make a convenient place to officially, and finally, release Tanya from any sort of custody. As she was without visa, this was the Republic's flimsy excuse for keeping her monitored until she left their soil.
She met Allard, Dr. Dupont, her 'guards', maids, and the other train workers on the stage carriage with the side opened up as it was the only area large enough to talk to everyone at once (there being nothing around but war-torn fields. "All of you, I can't thank you enough for all the care and kindness you've shown me these past weeks. You turned what could have been a dreary experience and made it truly a cherished memory."
The three maids were openly weeping and even some of the battle-hardened soldiers looked a bit misty-eyed. The head chef (and de facto leader of the staff) took upon himself to step forward. "Ms. Degurechaff, I think I speak for everyone when I say it's been a pleasure, no, our honor to serve you on this journey. You brought much joy to our country and have helped heal the wounds of that terrible war. Perhaps next time our leaders have a conflict, they'll think of your music and not old grudges."
Tanya thought of what her music almost did to the emotional hot-heads of Parisee but just smiled and shook his hand. Of course, this lead to a lot more handshakes and even some surprise hugs from the distaff members of the entourage. (The guards kept the men from getting too grabby with an underaged girl!) Lucie was still bawling as she hugged Tanya, her cleavage almost suffocating the smaller girl. "Why can't we go with you?!"
With great effort (and help), Tanya managed to escape the soft, perfumed death trap. "It's part of the agreement between the political offices, I'm afraid. Someone seems to think that I might be 'under coercion' and this is to minimize that."
"He gets to go!" She pointed an accusing finger at Gladieau who had the good grace to look embarassed.
"As her attorney of record, I'm legally, errr, bound to her for the duration." No one was crass enough to point out that the only real lawyer here was also the former defedent... but they were all thinking it.
"In addition to having to leave you behind, I also have to say farewell to Le Train but I can blame that on the politicos on the Empire's side. I think they didn't like the image of me arriving home in TOO much luxury!"
As they chatted and reminisced, they saw the Empire train arriving in the distance. It was approaching slower than usual and in reverse so it could use the same single (and only) track on this stretch of rail. As it approached, she pulled Droit and Gauche aside to speak privately. They just nodded their heads as their faces got paler and paler.
She returned to the others and Gladieau asked curiously, "What did you say to them?"
"I just reminded them that sometimes memories are better than mementos." She waved the band leader over, "Can we set up for one more song? The one we practiced two nights ago."
"Oh, that one! Excellent choice!"
As they just needed a guitar, drum and amplification, they were done quickly. Everyone quickly gathered and quieted for her farewell song. Well, I guess I can try this out now... they won't judge me too harshly if it doesn't work.
"I'm sittin' in the railway station, got a ticket to my destination..."
The song flowed out of her like a stream over water-smoothed rocks. But, somehow, they heard it has a harmonious duet to their amazement.
"...I wish I was Homeward bound..."
As much as they loved her and wanted to keep her with them, they could feel her longing to return that she had been torn from months ago.
"Tonight I'll sing my songs again, I'll play the game and pretend
But all my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony, I need someone to comfort me."
They had felt the power of her music before but there was something beyond that today as if she had hit a new level, touching them as they had never been touched before. A feeling that lifted their souls into the light as if they had only dwelled in murky darkness before.
"Home, where my thought's escapin'
Home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my love lies waitin'
Silently for me
Silently for me..."
She let her voice trail off and pretended not to notice that a dozen soldiers, deadly veterans of innumerable battles, were crying just as much as the others around her.
Chapter 22 – Berun, ho!
Having arrived in the Francois Republic with little more than the clothes on her back, Tanya was leaving with quite a bit more stuff. Clothing that fit, multiple (!) pairs of shoes, 'feminine' things, music scores... even gifts for her colleagues in the Empire. She looked less like an officer released from prison and more like a young lady returning from holiday. Certainly the cheering crowd and women waving (tear-stained) handerchiefs did nothing to dispel this impression.
Certainly it was a shock to the officers sent to retrieve her. Their commander was completing the necessary paperwork for the handoff while Tanya herself floated toward them over the official demarcation line (technically, just an ill-maintained sign stuck in the mud). If tensions were higher, there would be armed guards on both sides but the war-weary nations didn't bother, though there were observation posts on the outside of the zone.
She was wearing a summer-weight dress consisting most of whites with a blushing rose floral print and matching wide-brimmed toucan hat with a jaunty pink bow. Silver high-heeled sandals with pink lacing completed the outfit. The image was only marred by the obvious bandages on her feet and the out-of-place cane she held in her left hand.
"That is von Degurechaff? Could there be some mistake?" The younger officer looked at the lovely girl coming toward them and swallowed heavily.
"Oh, ja, ja. You are probably too young to remember the recruitment posters from six years ago when she was just a child but it's still the same Argent just a bit... taller."
Behind her the non-magical lawyer had to struggle with summer mud to go between one train and the next. He was certain that his pants would require a thorough laundering and his shoes were likely a complete loss. Somehow in all their discussions, he hadn't realized there wouldn't be a train station to switch vehicles nad hadn't bothered to dress appropriately.
She settled down on one the few patches of dry(ish) ground next to the soldiers and they saluted smartly. "Welcome back to the Empire Lt. Colonel von Degurechaff!"
Tanya saluted back with a smile. "At ease, Captain, Lieutenant. I'm hardly in uniform here. Not that I have one my size at the moment. I found the Francois frightfully lacking in proper Empire attire!"
The two men laughed and the Captain added, "They claim to be the fashion center of the world and they have such a gap in their closet. Shameful, truly it is." He glanced at her sending-off party and asked, "I trust your trip was comfortable."
"Very much so, but I'll be glad to get back to work. I never fancied being a prisoner, no matter how comfortable the cage. All is well in the Empire, I hope?"
He shook his head. "It could be better. The reparations are hitting hard and there's a lot of good men out of work, and not just from the layoffs in the army. There's no rationing, thank God, but you won't find the luxuries we had before the War."
"Just not having to eat K-brot is luxury enough, gentlemen." Behind her, sweating former bodyguards were hauling box after box of luggage from one train to the other.
"That's quite a bit of luggage, Colonel."
She shrugged, "I was barred from earning money by not having a proper legal status in the Republic so they gave me things for my performances and called them gifts. Don't worry, everything's been thoroughly searched and there's nothing dangerous in there."
The lieutenant chimed in, "I wish I could have heard your concerts in person! The recordings are quite nice but it can't beat the real thing."
Tanya blinked. "Recordings?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am! They are quite the rage in the Empire. Too bad that 90% are in that Francois gabble but maybe you can re-record them in proper Germanian soon?" He went on with the enthusiasm of a true otaku. "The tribunal ones aren't as popular, of course, but I still managed to get a complete set. The performances from the train ride and across the river there are a miracle all by themselves, let me tell you! It's hard to get a good quality pressing of anything except for the Picture Album, but if you have deep pockets, orb recordings can be had." He laughed self-depreciatingly, "Nothing I can afford on a Lieutenant's salary, naturally."
"Well I'm glad you liked them even if I don't intend to make a career of it."
The stricken look on his face caused her to backtrack hastily. "I will likely rerecord at least a few songs with better fidelity, though. And in Germanian. Can't let the Republic have all the good stuff, right?"
"Absolutely ma'am!" he said fervently.
After a few more minutes, all bags (and crates) were packed and they were ready for their ride back. Though the train carriage was luxurious compared to mainstream travel it wasn't a patch on Le Train De Tanya. The commander, Major Fischer, saluted and introduced himself as he got on board. "Sorry about that delay, Colonel. While protocol demands that we make sure you are in a reasonably healthy condition," he glanced at her feet, "before the handoff, it seemed like they were more concerned that we would treat you with the proper care. If this is how they treat their prisoners, I'd be tempted to commit a few crimes myself!"
"I gather this was a special case," she responded dryly. "I don't mean to ask for special treatment but I'm rather surprised none of my battalion is here."
"I'm not sure about that, ma'am. Grapevine said that they ALL wanted to join us but the Political Office intervened. It struck me as odd."
Odd, it's more than odd! The 203rd is directly under High Command so there should be no way that they could swing that kind of weight unless either High Command agreed or it came from the head of the civilian government. Briefly, she was worried about being assassinated as a liability to... someone, but who? Also, they would have done it on the other side of the Rhine to keep their hands clean. Wait, though, why think this is so dire? Those war nuts in the 203rd are probably looking for an excuse to attack the Republic. Tanya was reluctantly forced to admit that the Political Office might have made a rare rational decision.
"I'm sure it's nothing. The premier, and only, all mage battalion is a precious resource. Not to be wasted escorting one Lt. Colonel back from vacation."
After the hustle and bustle of the Republic, uneventful was the only description of the ride to Berun. Not that she minded. It was a puzzle that there wasn't some sort of attention. Then again, it wasn't like her itinerary was broadcast and she wasn't riding in a custom-made performance stage. Dropping down from a team of thirty to one steward that made a barely-passable cup of coffee was difficult, however. Soon, though, she would be in Berun soon and memories of Visha's increasingly perfect brews let her tolerate the dross she was currently being served.
Without the constant stops and the deliberately zig-zagging route, what took many days in the Republic could be handled in two in the Empire. Intact rails kept their train moving at a fair clip though the amount of traffic was nowhere near that of pre-war Empire. As late as the surrender was, it was in time to spare their country the devastation that the Republic had suffered. But, still, literally millions of her countrymen had died and their absence could be felt as they breezed through empty rail stations.
Gladieau looked out into the early evening landscape as it slid past their windows. "It's so quiet. Not at all like back home."
"The Republic isn't suffering under crippling unemployment. Rather the opposite... you desperately need workers now." Tanya hadn't had any news from the Empire at all and no one thought to stock the train with any newspapers. But she was quite familiar with the history of her old world, macroeconomics, and the fate of the second reich. "I imagine significant portions of the Empire's industry has ground to a halt as we struggle to meet the reparation demands. The downsized military has made matters worse as the former soldiers don't have skills needed by the market... a market that doesn't need men whose resumes are only about war. Widows abound and the orphanages are full I would guess." She tried to remember what one historian had said about the period between the world wars, "When you sow the seeds of despair, you will reap fields of hatred."
The lawyer saw the far-off look in her eyes and felt a chill go down his back. He had on more than one occasion felt put-upon or browbeaten by Tanya, but now he felt frightened by whatever vision she alone saw outside the darkened windows. He had tried to read Ihr Kampf but found it too dull to maintain his interest but one thing that the historian had pointed out was how often she was right when every other person said she was wrong.
"W-what happens then?"
"Remember that the Empire didn't start any wars... we were always the victims. No treaties were honored, no cease fire was made in good faith. The world has taught us a terrible lesson: we are truly alone and that only through overwhelming might will we know a lasting peace. The 'War to End All Wars'... words of an idiot. The next one will make this one seem like a schoolyard spat over stolen treats."
Gladieau (and the others within earshot) looked shocked. "The... NEXT... war?"
She nodded, not bothering to look at him, just staring out the window. "The deaths will be counted not in millions, but tens of millions. Cities will burn and everyone will forget Arene ever existed." She seemed to get focused then. "You should probably forget everything I just said... for your own peace of mind. If you tell anyone, they'll just think you're crazy."
The lawyer fervently wished to do just that and, with the assistance of several bottles of a rather expensive brandy, mostly managed it. Major Fischer, as a loyal officer of the Empire, did not have an option and quickly wrote down everything he could remember and put it in his report to Berun.
* * *
Ever since the acquittal, the Political Office had been in a tizzy... or, to be more accurate, a flat-out blind panic. Director Gruber was close to tearing out what little hair he had left. Why couldn't she just take the guilty verdict?! We had even arranged that the punishment would quietly revoked when she was 21! Oh, all our deals... ruined! The Political Office had built a house of cards based on the promise that she would be found guilty and sentenced. Nothing they could publically admit, of course, but it was only with the Francois Republic and Russy Federation's help that they could get as good a deal as they did on the reparations and border issues.
In the intervening weeks, the situation got no better. All promises of aid and 'considerations' vanished like morning mist and all the auditors were suddenly very hawkish about finding every possible error or miscalculation. Even the most innocent issue of arithmatic was suddenly ballooned to existential importance!
He stared at the nervously smoking men around the table. They had been so proud half a year ago when Rusted Silver was hauled off in chains... wine had been the main course that night... now look at them! "I need ideas and I need them now."
"She'll be crossing the border in a day at most. Free Arene was worse than useless!"
One man frowned. "That language sounds like you wanted them to succeed." Privately, he agreed it would have been better, but some things you didn't say aloud!
"O-of course not. But how do fifteen well-armed assassins fail to kill an unarmed girl?"
"Idiot!" Gruber, barked. "This isn't just some girl, it's the De... Degurechaff. We have two problems, the 'Colonel' and the rest of the world. The first has been handled but how about the rest?"
"We can't negotiate anything because the deal was under the table. We obviously can't send her back. THEY are the ones that acquitted her!"
"Ummm, maybe we can? She gathered a lot of popularity in Francois in a very short time. Maybe send her as a goodwill ambassador to the Federation?"
Gruber looked even grimmer. "Have you not read her latest paper? She sent it to us the day she was acquitted and it was here weeks ago. I think the title was Analyzing the Essential Paradox of Communist Power. It not only lays out their strengths, but also their weaknesses and posits several avenues to dismantling their regime. More damningly, it argues that coexistence is impossible and only accepts that the total destruction of their ideology can make the world safe."
The paper wasn't the problem, not really. The problem was that the Political Office (rather than the army) got ahold of it first and a communist-leaning member had given a copy to the Federation ambassador who immediately sent it to Moskva. Central Command continued to be livid about it and essentially wanted the perpetrator shot as a foreign spy for leaking a report by a high-ranking Empire officer.
Only by expending years of political capital did he manage to save the man's life with the very tenuous theory that someone in the Republic had been the one to sent it to the Russies. Despite the black eye, he would have let the man be shot but his wife would've given him hell if her brother had been executed as a traitor.
* * *
Naturally, General Rerugen had gotten a copy of the paper and was slightly shocked at the level of vitriol hidden beneath the very well-reasoned analysis. "I think we have found something that Degurechaff hates more than she loves mayhem." He thought back to her history and couldn't remember anything done to her by communists. They were enemies of the state, of course, but this seemed personal somehow.
"Her adjutant came from the Russy Federation but they get along uncommonly well. Maybe this is for her benefit?" Almost against his will, he had been the leading expert on Degurechaff... outside of Wagner. And he suspected the academic had already fallen under her spell like the members of the 203rd. "No, I can't imagine she would start another war just to make her assistant happy but... wait, wait. What if that is her plan?!"
The Empire had taken a pounding in the last war... millions of lives and deutschmarks wasted with nothing to show for it. A lot of the blame could be laid at the feet of the damnable Federation with their nearly limitless resources, both human and otherwise.
"I see it now. The Empire made an enemy of the rest of the world. But if you can harness that kind of hatred and direct it against the Federation, then she can have her war AND be on the winning side!" He dragged out a larger map of the world to look at the Russy borders and began to understand her paper more clearly. With the Empire beaten, they had no natural enemies. The only large country on their land border was China but both shared an almost religious avoidance against antagonizing each other. Their power was too much alike for them to risk a conflict that would likely destroy both of them.
"The enemy nations joined with the Federation because they viewed us as the great threat. But we no longer provide a good buffer. If we are all join against an even GREATER threat, we become the heroes and the past is forgiven. Germania, Dacia, Akitsushima of course, and anyone else who didn't like the outcome of the last war." There were a dozen small countries sweating about Russy ambitions that had previously worried about the Empire. He cynically believed that any country would be willing to participate if convinced just right but some were far easier to convince!
He tried not to give in to panic. "She wouldn't disobey direct orders... she scrupulously stays within the letter of every law or regulation. Even with her skills, it would take a decade and a half before she could be in a position of any real control in the military, more like twenty years. Even the most passionate youngster can cool off in twenty years, right?"
He didn't believe it, though. He knew there was something he was missing, but what was it?