“You and I are weapons of war, Specter of Time,” the swordsman said firmly and resolutely, “Those now gathered here are not mere vagrants, not mystics, and most certainly not bards. The world may only have such again once this great foe has been wiped out, and there is naught left of them but the whispers you so love.”

“Regardless, I don’t feel like spending my valuable time listening to the prattling of creaky old buzzards.” Poltergeist put the wooden arm away again, “Nor do I feel like listening to the whining of a puffed up brute. Leave me to my stories, and I will leave you to your own brand of self-indulgent prancing.”

“Hmph.” The swordsman turned, “That such power is held by one so lax in sense of duty defies reasoning.”

“I know more of duty than you ever could,” Poltergeist said coldly, “There are many of our juniors here besides the children. If you wish to duel with arts instead of words, then do be plain with your desires rather than trying to provoke me. I am sure they would appreciate the opportunity to observe how to improve their own arts.”

Gyalzhahar hesitated, pondered. “…A waste of time and resources that toying with you is not worth. Do not think the Elders will stand your mockery, however.”

As one sorcerer left, another approached- one who had been listening to the story from a small distance away. An adult man, though one who had not been so for long. Unlike the other two, unlike many, he wore his face openly, his humanity upon display. Creatures such as whom he deigned to speak with, he’d heard, only resembled the humans they once were whilst wrapped in clothing that would hide any sort of body. He approached Poltergeist with a query.

“Ah, you,” Poltergeist said, “The Riverman, you call yourself.”

The young man blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d…anyways. I heard what you and the…Blade of the West?”
“He is Gyalzhahar. Or Sword-Arm. The grandiose names are crude vanity. Humble names are more befitting of us. You learn this when you have aged sufficiently, unless you are Gyalzhahar.”

The Riverman grimaced slightly. “Well, uh. As I was saying. Are we not allies here? Why are you here if you clash with the Mountain Lords so?”

“You picked a poor time to grow your arts,” Poltergeist said, “I may consider myself friendly though ambivalent to their cause, but I do not consider myself a servant like they would wish. The Lords of the Mountains desire the Oblitares to be dealt with, but the Lords of the Mountains are either afraid or impatient. They wish to escalate this matter, and as I disagree, I am here to make such known. Not that they will listen. They want to both increase their forcefulness and expand the fight, whilst also remaining as secret as ever. They will fail at both goals in attempting to have it all.”

“Do you think you would convince them of that, though?” The Riverman asked warily.

“Not a whit, heh heh heh.” Poltergeist said, as though telling a joke. “Though I’ll at least have the privilege of saying I told you so.”

…Such was an ominous statement from a creature with the name it was oft referred by.

-----

Divisional Kommissar Kampt’s plan had only been in action for about a day when both success and failure began to be reported. Rash ambition in places, in others, pessimism, murmurs of defeat. It had only been but a day, however. Kampt was calm, though plenty a subordinate or ally was not. Few games of chess were lost with the very first trade of pieces.

Some events had not gone as planned. Kampt had felt confident assigning a strong, though less experienced unit whose heavy share of equipment was made of relatively outdated (though still plenty capable) materiel, to the important task of capturing the town of Ganzenacht. The forward supply base where the combined forces supporting the Ellowian Expatriates drew their energy from, as well as the important road heading off of it that linked with the Northway Road. Intelligence and reconnaissance suggested that it was relatively lightly defended, yet it had held out the other night and inflicted heavy casualties upon the 10th Armored Assault Battalion assigned to rout the defenders.

A quick investigation told of the sudden reinforcement of armored elements and the piecemeal commitment of the battalion’s attacking elements, anticipating a weaker enemy unable to contest them, was what had caused the attack to be spoiled. As well as any chance to take it in the near term, as reinforcements had arrived. Any second try would require much greater commitment of forces…

…Which Kampf did not have so ready to spare. Usage of his connections and coercion had allowed him to crash a pair of armored divisions against the enemy forward elements, where fighting was inconclusive, yet, doing fairly enough, considering the circumstances. Units send around the flanks had scattered weaker Republic formations, and broken the encirclement of friendly Sosalditan forces. It was difficult to keep a leash on the lower level commanders, as well as the Sosaldtians. They wanted to press an advantage they believed they had suddenly gained, but already, Kampt’s supply lines were long. Best to abandon the fortifications and save the troops now broken out.

However, this was not an easy set of orders to press or quickly communicate. The Broad-Range Interference Arrays had successfully neutered whatever system the Ellowians used for their devastatingly effective early warning, but it also obliterated near any long range wireless communications. Orders had been sent out as soon as the good news came- but it might be until the next day that confirmation of such commands would even come back, especially with the lines in such a confused state. Diagrams drawn up by staff showed an abominable mess, crescents layered atop on another with bulges and pockets all over, and in a headache inducing state of flux and motion, or lack of it. In isolated or distant portions, there was an incredible likelihood that analysts’ predictions could be completely off.

Kampt had some analysts present him with what could be extracted from the after action report at Ganzenacht in the meantime. Even with the piecemeal attack and unexpected enemy armor, how could the attack have failed so utterly? Kampt had at least expected the town to be broken into, disrupting enemy operations at and close to it. A lone m/32, with the support of an AdJ Lapin, and a late model PW-5. Two 4.7 centimeter anti-tank guns, an eight centimeter anti-tank gun. This did not sound like enough to stop the attacking force so handily, to say the least. The m/32 and the AdJ Lapin were, after all, not so far removed from capability from the majority of the attacking force’s tank types, even entrenched.

The new m/32 was, apparently, unable to have its frontal armor arc penetrated by the 3.7 centimeter cannon even from relatively close range- unlike the other m/32 variants encountered north. A more heavily armored testbed? It was also possessed of what was unmistakably the 4.7 centimeter cannon. Small differences, seemingly, but apparently enough to tip the scales significantly. On top of that, there was a further peculiarity. The use of yet another unknown weapon, that had turned the attack completely. It left hideous black burns upon many, while on others, according to witnesses, they had simply fallen over dead on the spot. The burns themselves appeared as though they were from Flayer particles, but…the speed of the effect and how widespread it was did not match a shot from where it was said to come from.

Afterwards, any further probes towards Ganzenacht had been driven back by “fearsome wild beasts.” Sosaldt did have no shortage of fierce creatures, of a sort that hunters and mercenaries were often called upon to deal with when their populations boomed, but he knew of none that would threaten the forces arrayed. Yet, it could not be dealt with. The attack might as well be foiled for the delay.

However, the response couldn’t be to do nothing. A reciprocation for the weapon used, perhaps? There were only small stocks of Flayer Gas ordinance available to him, but Kampt could take them off some willing hands. It was such an ugly weapon that most nations had signed treaties between one another against its use, including between the Archduchy and Netilland. Their mercenaries here, technically, did not fight under their flag, but all knew whom they were associated with. As effective as supplementing the next attack with Flayer might possibly be, there would be definite international consequences. Blowback that Netilland could not afford to cause right now. At the time being, the Archduchy was distracted to their north with Almizea and Plisseau, but if they were sufficiently provoked they might sense an excuse to redirect their attention to Netilland instead, whereupon the nation would surely fall under being assailed from multiple directions, especially with the aid of those damned Republicans. They were lurking- and it had been a mistake by the Kommissariat to not purge them from the ranks of the military more thoroughly. Such would have to be amended in the future.

-----

Within the confines of a hardened strongpoint within occupied Ellowie, only some kilometers from the frontlines with the forces of the King’s Rebellion to the southeast, a trio of Netillian officers lingered in a smoking room, sharing cigarettes, delaying their actual meeting with small talk until anybody not among their secret cabal had left them well alone.

“So then.” One man with grey hair, a round jaw and flabby jowls said, the rank on his uniform marking him as a Lieutenant Colonel, “Sublieutenant. How goes things?”

Sublieutenant Maenesko had some freedom of movement compared to his peers. He had been stuck in an insignificant position, and most above him after he had been transferred out of the Navy had rather he be forgotten about. There was a benefit to nobody really caring where he was or where he went, even as the UGZ he had been seeing over had, as command might put it, fallen to revolt. Maenesko had been politely released along with his allies, of course, and the remaining garrison allowed to leave, to the colonies that were now behind enemy lines in the King’s Rebellion. They were now surely fighting in their defense now, against some who might have been their former comrades, isolated from their Netillian allies and islands in the newly Ellowian territory.

He did hope for the welfare of his misguided countrymen. Maenesko and his elusive if numerous ilk held no love in their hearts for an enemy such as the Ellowians, but they held even less love for those who had subverted and perverted the fair Republic, in its times of dire need seizing power for themselves rather than aiding the country.

“You must have heard about the captures,” Maenesko said with a voice that sounded ready to yawn, “I doubt there is much to tell besides what has been widely propagated anyways.”

“That was a risky move,” said another ally, a thick-mustached Major, “If there is an investigation after this, if this whole affair doesn’t pan out, they’ll surely dig up the Robin. We’ll have lost a key insider as a favor to a dandy king.”

“There will not be another time when the Military Council and the Defense Party are beleaguered such as they are now.” Maenesko said dully as he tested a cigarette. Smoking wasn’t to his taste- he put it out in the ashtray, only slightly burned as a polite gesture. “The High Protector is curious of when we plan to act.”

“You told him what to expect, yes?” The Colonel sat back in his wooden chair with a creak and a sigh.

“Of course I did. He is eager for a quick resolution, however. The Twaryians will not be occupied for long. He is concerned both about the occupation of more of Ellowie, as well as the potential for them to direct their attention southwards to Vynmark whilst there are few to aid them.”

“Regardless of what he wants,” the Major said firmly, “We cannot act recklessly. There is too much to lose. There can be no Republican Coup nor seizure of the governing apparatuses by our own forces unless the Military Council is reeling from defeat. Else, we must play along.”

“While our brethren fight those who should be our allies in our cause,” Maenesko said with cynical edge. To the south of the homeland in Sosaldt as well as in occupied Ellowie, there were both quiet members of the Republicans and people surely sympathetic to the rebirth of the Republic of Netilland. They fought and died for the Military Council still.

“If this Alpha Two and the King’s Rebellion fail,” the Major said firmly, his tone unchanging and level, “Then we cannot fall with them. We must survive to rise again another day. I say that if we are to act, it should only be after both faith and fear has been lost of the Military Council. When the people rise up in the streets of Berkesseburg and the political prisoners flood out of the work camps, that is when we can safely reinstate the people’s rule. Anything else is gambling far too much on top of what we’ve already committed.”

“A victory against the Military Council that would result in the loss of many of our own people,” Maenesko said darkly.

“Enough.” The Colonel piped up, “Major Kressal is correct, Sublieutenant Maenesko. It is simply too soon to act. However, I’ve been hearing news of that creature Kampt and his faction’s power play to the south, and that he’s begun his attack in full. I’ve requested updates by the hour. If he and those shameless beasts who call themselves the Northern Lords find success, then we shall have no choice but to lay low. If they are defeated soundly…then we in the Circle will have much to make quick arrangements for.” He knocked the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and pointed with its glowing end to Maenesko. “Tell the High Protector such. Considering the quality and number of his forces, it is doubtful that he can make the sweeping victory required to shake the structure of our poor shackled country. A comfortable stalemate might just continue. To the south, though…there must be something decisive for the new beginnings to start.”

-----

“We’ve been able to occupy the fortresses, Minister, but the troops are tired and low on supplies. Their officers are requesting they sit back for a bit for recuperation and rearmament.”

“No.”

“No?”

“When was the last time a long range communique passed through? We have no idea what’s happening past the front. We can’t rest in these circumstances, that’s crazy. What’s the enemy doing?”

“Pulling out. There’s been gaps opened at the flanks by armor, but they’re letting their strongpoints go. It’s why there’s a chance to rest.”

“Don’t let them. I want the pressure to be kept up. We aren’t going to let that many of them slip away and then be sneered at later by our allies.”

“…The order can be sent, Minister, but,”

“Sent nothing. I’m going back out to the front to see it’s done myself.”

“That’s…very risky. Haven’t you already tempted fate enough this operation?”

“Are you only here to mother me since I won’t see your master? I’m going. If that motivates the enemy to stay so they have a shot at doing their worst to me, then that just means they aren’t running away. Either support me or don’t get in my way. I am in command here, not some shadow and his lackies. Relay my order to the couriers and get my escort ready. I’m not so afraid that I’m going to hide in the rear like a little girl while victory wriggles out of my hands.”

-----

You are Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht, Panzer Officer by the authority of the Archduchy of Strossvald, serving in the Silver Lances Armored Division- an expeditionary force for hire, presently in the employ of the Allied Republics of Mittelsosalia and Ellowie. Though, you were…quite far from where you were supposed to be. Initially separated from your company and your unit because your tank had to have its treads repaired, you were further delayed by having to aid in the defense of the line on the way to your unit. The ensuing battle resulted in the loss of a tank, and very nearly, the loss of its commander and crew, that of Lieutenant Van Halm whom had volunteered to stay behind both to help you and escort you up to the line.

To try and repay that favor, you had taken him and the survivors of his crew back to the forward operating base of the division headquarters, which you had helped to defend from a sudden attack last night in the wake of a widescale long range communications failure, which was continuing even now. Your tank had been damaged then, as well, but the use of a Hellfire Shell in the confusion of the smoke-drenched assault had driven it off when all might have been lost, and the Netillians hadn’t returned since. You had been given some time to rest whilst the Maintenance Company did what they could to repair your tank.

Though you hadn’t really spent any time resting, per se. You’d gone and seen Van Halm in the now-morning, and he was awake once more, though unlikely to return to combat any time soon with how badly he was hurt. He had told you some…disturbing implications concerning your spouse’s family. Things you didn’t particularly feel you wanted to have found out now, but the cat was out of the bag.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t think about it, you could scarcely keep it out of your mind if you wanted to, but you were occupying your attention in other ways that distracted you. One was seeing if you could get a better picture on the details of the worst your opponent could throw at you. A brief refamiliarization educated you on the finer points of the Netillian arsenal, but more importantly, told you of its greatest threats to you, potentially. There very well could be unknown equipment being used, but the Archduchy missions to Netilland (as well as, undoubtedly, Intelligence Office work of the sort you weren’t involved in) had told that their new five centimeter gun, while unsuitable for use on their most common turreted tank type, had been mounted and deployed on larger hulls- particularly on Ellowian tank models from captured factories and tooling, that had been duplicated in their own lands, as well. To say nothing of the captured long-range anti-tank platforms with seven point five centimeter cannons. You’d seen those before, in Sosaldt, and were not pleased with the news that you might have to face one.

When you checked with maintenance again, and on your tank, you were told you’d have perhaps an hour until you were ready to move again. Normally, you wouldn’t have such priority, but the vast majority of the Silver Lances’ armor was off past where the wreckers could start dragging any back. From what news the couriers had delivered, things were intense. Suffice it to say, you had to get going sooner rather than later.

When you got back to your crew and your Republic allies, who now accompanied you solely because of your reputation, you found that somebody had gone and got canisters of food. Your crew was by a crate in a hastily dug fighting hole- your other allies had returned as well, with the Wolfman and his crew keeping watch (despite there being a solid line of grenadier in front) and the other infantryman led by the man known as the Revolutionary had dug their own fighting hold, which they glowered from within at all near.

“Lieutenant,” Schafer, you gunner, said as you came up beside the rest of the crew, “Get some food in you. Rice, beans, bacon fat and salt.” He pointed to a still-closed can on the ground. It was still hot, from the steam venting up from the tilted lid where a ladle was propped inside. A clean mess tin was on top of a crate beside, mostly clear of red dust.

“I’m not feeling hungry.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

There wasn’t going to be any arguing with a veteran Silver Lances crewman, and a look to the rest of your crew garnered no sympathy. You fed yourself mechanically- it was bland stuff, and you didn’t savor it a bit, only hoping you’d thank yourself later.

“How long until we get our tank back?” Hausen asked, his hat and bandanna off, dark red hair loose in the wind and lengthier than standard. Not that grooming standards were kept to around these parts- you’d guess Schafer only did so because he couldn’t grow hair on the top or bottom of his head in the first place, not that you’d seen his allegedly bald head yet.

“An hour,” you replied.

“Pretty quick.”

“Is it?” you wondered. “…I suppose it could be longer.”

“There you go.” Hausen nodded.

Malachi and Jorgen faced away from the other two. The former had been called a Kallean back in the tension of battle- whatever that meant to the Silver Lances, it hadn’t prompted any warmth between them. Not that you knew anything about Kallec, but you somehow doubted that the national identity of your driver had any impact whatsoever on what you knew him for. Though it did make you wonder if it had anything to do with why he hid his face. Such was his own business.

“Ah, Kommandaerr,” Jorgen suddenly said as you looked over to him and the driver, as though he had felt the attention, “The gaerl waethe faet cans wanted taelkto you.
”
“The…huh?” You blinked.

“One of the tank people over there,” Hausen pointed, “With her crew. The only female to be seen. That is some seriously heavy artillery, isn’t it?”

“Oh.” You hadn’t actually seen the one who called herself Framboise, but you looked over, and…well, she was top heavy, but that drew less attention than the large red and white striped ribbons she wore at the sides of her head, like she was out for an afternoon walk in an idyllic town square rather than in the wastes of Sosaldt which were hostile at the best of times. “I didn’t notice.” You had other things on the mind. Plenty more concerning.

“Bullshit you didn’t.” Hausen said accusingly. “That is a nice rack.”

“Hae leaksem smaell,” Jorgen commented for you.

This sounded like a discussion you wanted to avoid preemptively, you thought. “I’ll have a chat, then.” Though you hoped it was about something normal, or about operations, perhaps. You weren’t in the mood for wasting your time with anything else. Maybe you should be more tolerant with people who had put their lives on the line to help you, but you didn’t want to deal with what you expected right now.

You walked up beside Framboise and Narr, who were talking about something in a heated tone- bickering. Their dress was starkly different- though both their tanks were painted in the chocolate brown of the Republic, and Narr had the uniform of Mittelsosalia on his slim shoulders, you wouldn’t have guessed the Emrean woman was affiliated with any armed force at all. What was she? A mercenary? Her apparel was functional enough, you supposed, but her coat hanging off her arms and her blouse baring her collar and shoulders made her seem about as martial as a debutante, were it not for the pistol on her hip and the canvas trousers and boots.

“Hello.” You said simply as you stopped a few paces beside the two. Narr recognized you with a tilt of his head, but the other had a more…dramatic reaction as she turned to face you.

“Eeeeiee!!” Framboise screeched as she looked at your face and recoiled, hiding her eyes behind her hands.

“…” You stared her down, than looked at Narr, who shrugged at you. Was this going to be a regular thing if you didn’t have your mask on? Maybe you could put it back on your face after a few more days… “You wanted to talk to me, not scream at me, right?”

“Ah, yes, of course…baht…what is ze meaning of zis? Non, non,” She peered back with a grimace on her lips, “Zis is not right at all, yoo ah not mean’ to look like zat.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” You said dryly.

“Ah well, at least ze air eez still like it should be? But ze books, zey said ze Kommandant was ze beau, ahn’…ah, vérité est terrible…Perhaps ze half trooth eez bettahr zan ze lie.” The strange woman suddenly had a perk in her mood as she snapped her fingers, “Ah! Ah! Where ah my manners? It iz le plaisir pour moi to finally meet yoo. Baht! Zat is not even ze most vital thing! Kommandant! Tell me, zees stories…” She drew a well-fingered novel from her bag, and beheld it with a look of reverence before thrusting it towards you in both her hands, held daintily from her fingers. “Zees are ze trooth, non? Zey are based on what has happen? Oui?”

“Oh, Judge Above,” Narr groaned, “She whipped out that fucking bodice-ripper rag…”

“Eet ez not a rag, you are imbecile!” Framboise snarled sharply, holding the book back defensively, “Eet eez ze work of genius, a story ahf senseeteevity ahn’ passion, to set ze nerves aflame, to set ze sweat down ze neck!” She shuddered in a way you didn’t particularly like, “But yoo were asked nothing! My question was for ze Kommandant.” She glared fiercely back to you, then gingerly held the book forward again. “Zis iz…ze writer says eet ez based upon trooth, so, ah…”

The cover was an illustration that told you of the nature of it- the subject was…some Rendition of Signy. The eyepatch was there, as were her huge eyebrows, but creative liberties had been taken, you were sure. No, that’s about how big she is around the chest, you have personal experience. Nonconsensual experience, you said to yourself, annoyed at what sprung to mind. In any case, this fictional depiction of the warlord Cyclops was being undressed, gripped around the waist and under her arms by a strong figure whose features were largely shadowed under a cap with goggles that was reminiscent of what you once wore. Across the top, in showy lettering, Amatory and Ambition- First Dream.

Your mouth was a thin line, and your eyes felt tired.

“Ah was captured by ze Madame Muse Passione’s leeterature,” Framboise said with admiration towards the pen name you noticed on the bottom of the book- the author, presumably. “She eenspires moi to learn ze language, for what aht she makes, so mach unlike yoo usual drivel of ze east. She writes like she eez of la belle culture…”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Narr grumbled again, “Hon hon hon, ze smut is bettah than any of yoo achievemahnt…comes in a week and change ago and thinks she knows everything…”

Framboise ignored the lanky man’s commentary. “Ahn zere iz zeese as well,” She put the book in your hands, and you stared at it emptily while she dug a pair of other books out- the same author, the same suggestive cover art. On one was…some woman you had no idea about, she didn’t look like anybody you knew at all, with the title Brutality and Beauty-Second Dream. The other was titled Lust and Liberation-Third Dream, and its subject was…a waifish, white-blonde pale lady. The exact details were off, but you had no doubts who she was meant to be.

The corners of your mouth curved down, under some sudden weight, and Framboise noticed instantly.

“W-well,” she said, now nervous, putting the books away, “If zey are somewhat stories, zen, ah…” She leaned on one foot, then the other, the only sound a mild breeze of dusty wind. “Zen, would you…put yoo signature on zat? Sign it?” She pointed to the book in your hands. “Ze, uhhh…auto graph?”

>No. The last thing you’d do with this printed insult was to put your tacit approval upon it. It’s tempting to just drop it on the ground like the junk it is.
>…It’s just a piece of schlocky writing. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. Lighten up and put your signage on it- your nomme de guerre, that is, not your name. There were limits…
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…
>Other?

Pastebin for past threads- https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and shitposts is @scheissfunker
I intended to have a picture of Framboise up for the start but I figured I should include her tank in the picture too as to at least maintain the illusion this is a quest about tanks.

>>4679712
I see this quest floating around for the past few months, I finally decide to take a look and this is what I see.

I’m gonna read through the past threads to figure out how to play this quest.

>>4679709
>Other
If she wants our autograph sure, just not on these.

Also damn, we're truly blessed with the amount of asides tanq.

>>4679709
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

>>4679709
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

>>4679709
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

>>4679709
>She drew a well-fingered novel from her bag
>well-fingered
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…
I am picking this option solely for the meta joke of reading a story about Richter inside of a story about Richter.

If we were to take her behind a shed and scramble her eggs, would that make her an omelette du Framboise?

>>4679709
>>Other
We're...glad that she finds so much pleasure in this literature, but she should know that it's all very much a work of fiction, from what we can gather of it. We'd be happy to sign something else of hers, so as to not risk giving the wrong impression.

>>4679709
>>…It’s just a piece of schlocky writing. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. Lighten up and put your signage on it- your nomme de guerre, that is, not your name. There were limits…
>>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

Dont see why we cant do both

>>4679709
>…It’s just a piece of schlocky writing. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. Lighten up and put your signage on it- your nomme de guerre, that is, not your name. There were limits…
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

Although if we want to burst her bubble we can tell her about a countryman named Erwin Von Neubaum and how his exploits are likely the man on the front cover...

Ten strossmarks that Madame Muse Passione is really Liemanner this whole time

>>4679712
Really she should be holding an artillery shell for comparison.

>>4679709
Supporting >>4679724
I wonder whether Madame Muse Passione is Lucia.

>>4679709
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…
>Other? (Offer to sign anything else that isn't her. Signing something we haven't read and is about Richter himself, just seems like trouble.)
What if the book about the women we don't recognize is about Von Neubaum's horny adventure. What if it's ALL based on Von Neubaum's horny adventure besides the tank bits.

>>4679709
>Ask if you can borrow this book. Maybe you ought to know what’s being written about this depiction of you. Especially since the figure on the cover seemed quite purposely shrouded…

>>4679724
>>4679938
>>4680547
>>4680315
Your autograph has standards, after a fashion.

>>4680072
>>4680298
It's just a signature, what's the trouble?

>>4679792
>>4679794
>>4679843
>>4679876
>>4680072
>>4680298
>>4680547
>>4681028
So can I borrow this real quick?
I wonder if I should have specified whether you wanted to pick one in particular but starting with the first book is probably the reasonable thing.

Writing. And doodling.

>>4679722
>I’m gonna read through the past threads to figure out how to play this quest.
Well, uh, good luck with that. There's a lot of context to get through.

>>4679811
What did he mean by this

>>4679876
I don't know why you'd ever have eggs with raspberries, but I guess? Bold of you to assume you can just take her eggs and do what you want with them.

File: GJR-Raspberry-Cream-Chees(...).jpg (136 KB, 800x450)

136 KB JPG

>>4681079
You know, it might have been a tortured pun taken from a joke in Dexter's Laboratory combined with the worst pickup line ever made, put I looked it up and there is an honest to Judge recipe for raspberry omelet just floating out there on the internet. It even has a cream filling.

>>4681079
I wonder if Signy has a copy for the times she feels particularly miserable which is probably most days kek

File: tcqscene183.png (1.13 MB, 1200x832)

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You squinted at the book, thought about it, and sighed. Even though it was offensive on some level, especially the third one that you were near assured depicted a woman all too recently deceased, they were just pieces of schlock. Nothing to get angry over, especially not at this innocent young woman. Well, young, though she couldn’t have been much younger than you. Perhaps even Signy’s age.

“I’d rather…” You trailed off, “I’d rather not sign anything like that book, there, but if you want an autograph, I can sign something else instead, if you like.”

“Hon hon hon,” Narr muttered mockingly to the side, “Sign my beeg fat knockers, hon.”

“Humph!” The Emrean girl’s smile turned and she stuck her nose up and turned her head in defiance, opened an eye to gauge your reaction, for only a moment, before loosening and smiling again, though she seemed to be having trouble keeping eye contact with the face she was beholding. “Err,” she hummed, reaching into her bag, “Okay zen, ah…” Her brow furrowed as she kept a hand stuck inside her handbag, “Errr…I can’ theenk of anyzing.”

You let out a sigh of relief, again. “It doesn’t have to be now. Though, could I borrow that book? I want to see how much of that…obvious work of fiction, is true.”

Framboise looked hurt for a moment. “I know eet iz jahst a story, baht, it sez iz based on trooth, so, ah jus’ wan’ to know, how much…” She pouted at you, but held the book back out, albeit close and defensively.
“I won’t know until I look at this,” you said, taking the book in a pair of fingers…Framboise blinked at your mutilated hand with disappointment as you whiffed at air.

“When did zat happen?”

“Recently,” you grumbled, figuring out that certain racier parts must have been amended already. Feh, your left hand was still fine, you demonstrated as you grabbed the book with that instead. “Who is this author? This Madame Passione?” It was clearly a pen name, but you had suspicions. Was it secretly Liemanner, that secretive stooge of the south with incomprehensible goals, for how sweeping their influence seemed to be? The idea of them writing this sort of smut was stupid enough yet had enough motive that…no, you were overthinking this. Paranoia. “Are they an Ellowian, perhaps?”

“Nah.” Narr said over to the side, “Passione lives in Wossehnalia. She’s not hard to find, don’t know why you’d want to.”

“Pardon my saying so,” you said, flipping through the book and noticing that it was indeed in the language you could read, “But this…how far outside of Sosaldt would this have really gone?”

“Ze Madame iz an adventurer ‘erself!” Framboise bubbled, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up, “She fled her country for publeeshing ah scandalooss story of zer affairs, baht she steel had her frens all over! Zere is a publeeshaer in Emre, in Les Jumelles whar ah come from, but zey ah so slow in ze translashon, zat eet iz bettahr to learn ze Kaiser’s Bastardizashon zen to wait fah so long.”

“Forced to choose between the bastard of Old Nauk or the bastard of Vitelian,” Narr sneered, “How terrible. Hey, Kommandant, not to ruin your quality time with your big fan, but how long until we get moving? That last night reminded me of Todesfelsen, and not in a good way.” He shuddered, “Every time one of those tanks came up I wondered if they were going to swat me instead of plinking at one of you two.”

Any armor had probably considered such and deemed Narr’s light tank less a threat than you or Framboise, but you could sympathize with his concerns. He must have been of the school that considered a tank a poor defensive weapon, more comfortable with the ability to move about than sitting in place and impersonating a bunker.

“An hour, give or take,” you said to the red scarfed lanky man, “We shouldn’t have to worry about an attack too much. I heard from the command that the Netillians are being held back by…something. They didn’t say what.” You had a bad feeling you knew, though. Was one of those creepy catfish things so strong, or was it merely incredibly unnerving combined with the effects of the Hellfire Shell you used?

“Anything like whatever turned those two tanks empty?” Narr asked further.

“I don’t know,” you said firmly, “Anyways. It is alright if I borrow this for some time, right?” You asked Framboise.

“Ah, ahf…of course!” She was trying her very best to smile brightly at you, “Keep eet as long as yoo like.”

“What’s wrong?” Narr smirked at her, “Less hot on him now that he’s only got half a face?”

“Eet waz nevar like zat,” Framboise said sorely, though her shifting eyes told of a half truth, “Yoo presume too mach of somebody yoo don’ know at all.” She straightened up and trilled something neat, tidy, and clear voiced in Emrean towards her tank, and a very well groomed looking gentleman with hints of grey about his temple and a fancy mustache popped out, and seemed to bow at the shoulders as Framboise made her request of him. “We weel be ready to go at a momen’s noteece, mon chevalier,” She closed her eyes and was able to smile much more genuinely.

“Very well,” you wondered if you should salute or not in parting, “Tell the others such as well. Until then.”

-----

Your crew made fun of you when you revealed you were reading a book about yourself, especially one with such a raunchy cover, but yesterday had left everybody too tired to insist on really ribbing you over it. All that was required was your explanation of what you were seeking- just what was being made of this figure you’d left behind, this Kommandant who was both you and not you.

Interestingly, despite Framboise’s claims that this book was “based on truth,” Madam Passione’s foreword, written in a playful way like she was merely recounting something heard, indicated that this was not meant to be taken as any sort of accurate account- but that she did certainly base it off actual people, and perhaps, what could very well be, in secret. How coy, you thought with a roll of your eyes.

Intriguingly, though Cyclops was referred to as Cyclops and not by Signy’s true name, her origins were more or less true to form. She had been swept in on the wind- as had the Kommandant, also unnamed, though familiarity was implied between him and Cyclops. They had known one another- and were rejoined by a thread of fate. The strangest thing, though, was certain patterns of the Kommandant’s behavior were…they didn’t seem like you. His aloof manner, his stated intellect and beauteous features…maybe such referred to you, but to be frank, nobody ever referred to you as a genius. In fact, it was frequently the opposite. The appearance was vague, but just enough was there to know it wasn’t all you. Who else, then?

…Perhaps Von Neubaum, you thought with a twist in your brow. Von Metzeler was not pretty, and Von Walen had been plain, while Von Igel was even plainer and bookish looking, on top of the latter two certainly not being described even laughably as tall. Were you dark of demeanor? Was Von Neubaum? You hadn’t actually gotten to know him too well.

Quickly though you had to flip through a portion of the book rather than read it in depth. Apparently, in this interpretation of history, it hadn’t taken long after the takeover of the Guillotines and the formation of the foundation of what would be the Republic, that Passione had decided that the Kommandant and Cyclops had gotten up to extremely explicitly depicted coitus. You were no stranger to lewdness now, but the combination of the absolute filthiness of it combined with the awkwardness of who was involved made your face turn from pink to crimson to purple, just in feeling, before you couldn’t stand it any longer, no matter how flattering it might have been just by the nature of it.

You had to admit, though, it was a competently written romance…once you could pretend the subjects were other people. The Kommandant was cool, calculating, but Cyclops knew where he was weak- and he knew where Cyclops was weak as well. They probed at each other, mocked one another, and when one lost confidence the other understood why, despite their differences. They were attracted to each other’s differences, even- the Kommandant to Cyclops’s free spirit and ambition, her aggression and optimism, whilst Cyclops was enchanted by the Kommandant’s cool head and (surprisingly accurate) noble background, the age and prestige of their blood and the poise that gave them when presented with obstacles.

The way this book, Amatory and Ambition, was written it was as though neither could fall for any other. As though there couldn’t possibly be any more, let alone two more. Were they sequels, or alternatives?

Besides the scenes that were clearly meant to arouse, you actually saw rather much…respect towards the fictionalized persons. A skip to the end told that the book’s ending was some time after the Battle of Todesfelsen, though the ending was ambiguous. Cyclops asked the Kommandant to stay with her, and build her new nation of hope alongside her. The ending merely…had him pondering. To return to the duty he swore fealty to, or to follow the path of love, that had drawn him to stay in the first place. No decision was revealed. Just the sad hope shining in the lone eye of Cyclops.

You checked your watch, wondering how much time you’d wasted. It would be time to pick up the m/32 soon, you saw, as you heaved yourself up off the ground by the crate, telling your crew where you were going. The Maintenance Company would be the ones delivering it back anyways.

Though you thought about the book on the way over.

>It was incredibly uncomfortable. You refused to read another word of it. Not just that it ignored your wife’s role in all this, but that it tried to…reach inside your head. And touch too closely in places.
>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
>Much as you hated to say it. Maybe you ought to read those other volumes too…
>Other?

>>4681559
That seems like some bizarre remix on a raspberry cream crepe. I suppose it might work.
...The recipe, not the implication made through pun.

>>4681598
She does have a copy of My Lover in the Moonlight. Reading smut of herself is probably a high barrier to cross, though. One could always ask her, if they sought her out.

>>4681646
>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.

At least Maddy can't read any of this.
Also nice tonk, Framboise is cute as well I guess.

>>4681646
>>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
>>Much as you hated to say it. Maybe you ought to read those other volumes too…

>>4681646
>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.

>>4681641
That's some impressive front armor.
>>4681646
>It was incredibly uncomfortable. You refused to read another word of it. Not just that it ignored your wife’s role in all this, but that it tried to…reach inside your head. And touch too closely in places.

>>4681646
>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
Channel your inner Hell, Richter.
Don't sweat the small shit! You're fear free and a man reborn! No need to be a hard ass about stupid shit like this.

>>4681646
>>4681794
Oh and also
>Much as you hated to say it. Maybe you ought to read those other volumes too…
In for a penny...

>>4681646
I wonder, can we get royalties for the usage of our image?

>>4681646
>>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
>>Much as you hated to say it. Maybe you ought to read those other volumes too…

>>4681646
>>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
>>Much as you hated to say it. Maybe you ought to read those other volumes too…
This author seems to be quite insightful about the characters she drew inspiration from...I can't help but wonder how she wrote about other people we may know.

>>4681655
>>4681662
Maybe chill a bit in regards to innocent fiction.

>>4681657
>>4681794 + >>4681794
>>4681914
>>4682231
And you might even be a bit more curious...

>>4681682
Discomfort.

Writing.

>>4681812
If you can sue for it maybe. However a perk of being in Wossehnalia is that litigation is a touch difficult unless you try it on the local level.

Maybe you ought to not be so sensitive about it, you thought. There were far worse things one could have written about them- especially when the person in question wasn’t really you, not entirely, at least. It was some people’s harmless fun, about a person you hardly recognized being a part of. Since the breaking of conditioning, it felt like longer ago than it really was. A memory more distant than even childhood.

Much as you hated to say it, maybe, you ought to read the other entries in the series as well. Was it vain to want to read about your reputation? Just as long as you weren’t forced through any smut, the perspective on you and your allies’ actions was interesting to see. Though, it’d have to wait until you were idle again. This last delve into the headquarters would be your last in a while, you hoped. You’d had quite enough of dawdling away from your company, your platoon. It was time to get back.

The m/32 was ready, mobile, gassed up and about as intact as you could hope for. Maintenance told you that the turret traverse had been impossible to completely repair with the present facilities- a temporary remedy in the form of a block had been installed so that the turret wouldn’t jam on itself, but there was still a bad spot to the right angle where you’d have to turn the turret completely around to make it swing right. Or, you’d have to turn the hull. It’d be less a problem in a formation, you were told, but in any case, it’d have to be fully repaired later as part of a refit.

You’d have to take what you could get. Everything was otherwise alright, including the hull gun’s ammunition, freshly restocked.

One last visit to Signals, who were of course still out long range communications, but they were linked to High Command- they could give you the last location of your company, and thus, your platoon. Thus, you were. Rather, the location of your battalion. The lines were in chaos, however, and there was an unknown amount of hostile territory between them and the east-swinging road that once served as its line of supply. Such was the case all over the line. Enemy forces had pushed in all over, and though there was little in the way of exploitation, there was no steady line of communication to the front line, who were too busy battling a frontal onslaught to pay mind to the rear and flanks. In short, what this meant was that you’d have to break through yourself.

“So which way is it?” You asked, having had quite your fill of reasons not to and still not wavering in your decision.

“Huh,” the staff officer blinked at you, and led you to a map pinned onto a wall that was being consulted by plenty others. Not a big or detailed one- such was being crowded around by actual higher officers. “See there?” He pointed far enough along the road that it went to the actual Northway Road- the highway that went all the way to the Netillian Heartlands. “That’s the Reserve Armor Battalion’s last reported position. Not much reason to expect them to have been pushed out of there.”

Naturally, they appeared the hardest to actually get to. Not only with the amount of speculated contested ground, but they were on the Northway Road itself- the territory the enemy was most motivated to fight over.

“Next to them on either side to the west and east are the first and second Armor Battalions of the Lancers Panzer Regiment. The line’s more or less contiguous, beside the band of contested territory to the south. There was a connection still between the road and the second battalion last a report came. There’s going to be a supply run from the Logistics Battalion to there in about an hour.” From the looks of it, then, it’d be a longer journey but a safer one to go all the way to the second battalion, then west from them to the Reserve Battalion.

“What about that?” You pointed to a small market to the west of the first battalion, closest to you. Just northeast of the town, really.

“Oh that.” The staff officer said dully, “That’s…some Republic Mercenary unit, about company plus sized. Armor. They were running amok pretty far behind enemy lines, came back this morning. A courier, this nasty looking scamp of a rude girl, came around just now with a message saying they were coming back for resupply.”

“They’re the closest, though,” you said thoughtfully. A nasty looking scamp, huh.

“I suppose they’re the quickest way up to the front,” the staff officer shrugged, “But they might try and pick off of you or pressure you. I’d say you’re best sticking to our own.”

Perhaps. But you weren’t afraid of a bunch of mercs, especially if you were supposed to be on the same side.

>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.
>Head out on the most direct way back to your unit. You needed to get to them first and foremost, though they’d be the most difficult to actually break through to.
>Gamble somewhat on going straight to the mercenaries. Once you got to the frontline units, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to go across to your unit, surely.
And-
>Take care of anything else before you head out again?

>>4682431
It's funny to call it a Gamble when metawise we know exactly what we'd find going that direction...so how about we take the real Gamble and Panzer Commander our way through enemy lines?
>Head out on the most direct way back to your unit. You needed to get to them first and foremost, though they’d be the most difficult to actually break through to.

>>4681641
Jesus! Look at the size of those...treads on the side of the tank.

>Just a harmless bit of fun. The Kommandant in that book wasn’t you- hell, you hardly recognized yourself from your own memories of those days, now. Loosen up, Richter.
While I myself would be very interested in the summaries of the other books, I don't know if Richter would. He's probably already mortified that most people in the world would recognize this Kommandant from the real one.
>Other?
Maybe put some feelers (heh) out for how this Madame knows this much detail.

>>4682431
>Gamble somewhat on going straight to the mercenaries. Once you got to the frontline units, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to go across to your unit, surely.

>>4682431
>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.

>>4682431
>>Gamble somewhat on going straight to the mercenaries. Once you got to the frontline units, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to go across to your unit, surely.
Hmmm, a nasty scamp, a company of armor, and a straight shot through enemy held territory to link up with beleaguered allies? Maybe we can even break out the old map combat rules.

>>4682431
>Gamble somewhat on going straight to the mercenaries. Once you got to the frontline units, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to go across to your unit, surely.

>>4682431
>>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.
We should go with the supply convoy, make sure they actually reach where their needed. No point getting back to the front with the rest of the company running red on ammo.

>>4682431
>>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.

>>4682431
>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.
also
>>4681641
she cute!

>>4681641
Fantastic bod, tragic face.

>>4682431
>Head out on the most direct way back to your unit. You needed to get to them first and foremost, though they’d be the most difficult to actually break through to.

>Take care of anything else before you head out again?
Yes, make sure we fill up two flasks one full of whiskey and the other whisky before heading out.

>>4682481
I'll switch to
>Take the long and slow route. You needed to preserve your resources for when you got back to your unit, and you could accompany the supply convoy there, too.

>>4682431
>>Gamble somewhat on going straight to the mercenaries. Once you got to the frontline units, it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to go across to your unit, surely.

>>4682455
>>4682683
Direct

>>4682523
>>4682547
>>4682767
Merc Route

>>4682502
>>4682570
>>4682640
>>4682693
Long and slow

The safe way it is, then. Writing.

>>4682666
Hilda finally has competition.

>>4682848
Dunno, Framboise face wise feels like a combination of Maddy and Signy?

Tanq, have you tried the Wargame franchise? I think its one of the most authentic rts when it comes to combined arms manouver warfare. A little out of timeframe from PQ since its Cold War based.

Its free currently on Epic Games.
https://www.epicgames.com/store/en-US/p/wargame-red-dragon

>>4683735
Oh Wargame Red Dragon, why does you FOB have enough fuel and supplies to resupply 100 men and their APCs and their armor support, but also gets completely emptied out if I try to rearm more than 8 hellfire missiles?

File: autism.jpg (637 KB, 1000x1000)

637 KB JPG

Sorry about the delay, I must have missed sleep somewhere because I ended up being out cold for like the entire day.

>>4683735
>have you tried the Wargame franchise?
I've tried it a little bit.

>>4682848
How far away is the battalion exactly by the road? A couple of hours or will it take another full day like yesterday

>>4684480
A few hours, yes. Your unit's area of the front's not wide enough for a full day.

The preservation of what resources you had was critical, and from the sounds of it, your presence with the upcoming supply convoy would be appreciated as well. Who could say if, with the present state of the lines, whatever escort they had would be enough? If you got back and your allies were running low on ammunition, there’d be little point in having arrived, after all. Though, you were curious of those odd mercenaries…it wasn’t just any bunch of guns for hire that could roam the field by themselves and simply return when an attack of scale was going on.

“I think I’ll accompany the supply convoy,” you told the staff officer, “where are they gathering? It won’t be a problem?”

“South side of town, can’t miss ‘em. No, they’d probably appreciate a tank or a few around, with things how they are. Enemy armor isn’t expected, but it should scare off anybody that’s snuck through.”

A bit hopeful an estimate. Man portable anti-tank weapons could still pose a threat, if reduced, but you supposed the man was referring to an expected absence of more dangerous threats. No reason to not keep on your toes, still.

“Good enough. I’ll head there.”

-----

There was still much waiting to do, even after the m/32 was delivered and you and your allies moved to the assembly point. It was impossible to miss, but even the fully loaded collective of trucks present had apparently not been enough. Much like you would be doing for some time, they were waiting. Perhaps they had been waiting longer than you. Lucky, that they hadn’t decided they could head out ahead of schedule. Fuel and ammunition- the escort seemed insufficient, however, and perhaps that was what was being waited on.

By your measure you were enough, but no. A brief inquiry with a driver revealed that they were waiting for a Pioneer detachment. A fortified forward supply point was to be established, and stocked fit to burst as quickly as possible, regardless of if it seemed realistic to do so. The Silver Lances would make do. Even a subunit as plain as logistics and transport had pride and derring-do in this formation.

Speaking of transport, your tanks were presently accommodating such a role. The Wolf Man and the Revolutionary and their men were piled up on the backs of the vehicles. You hadn’t interacted with the Revolutionary much- his men were a motley group that had little consistency in equipment, discipline, or even age, but they behaved themselves when he was about. The man himself looked mean in a way that had little to do with his aquiline, bony features. He didn’t seem to be middle aged yet, but his hairline sharply receded at the sides and his eyes had a loose weariness around the wells where they sat, while still being flinty and sharp. He sat on the back of Framboise’s tank, who you were hoping to pick up more literature from.

“Kommandant,” he said in a voice barely tinged with Emrean- very much unlike the extreme accent of the owner of the vehicle he was seated in, “I see you have suffered for the cause.”

The cause? “This came from…a personal affair.”

“Regardless. You know pain, something that certain cows from Jumelles ought to appreciate before embarking on self-indulgent playing-pretend.”

“Hmm,” you gave no comment on that. The young woman didn’t seem to lack for earnesty, from what you’d seen. “Is she in the tank there? I wanted to borrow something from her.” Somehow, you got the feeling this man wouldn’t appreciate her taste in fiction. “What is the Jumelles, again?” That seemed like something you probably should have known and probably once did, but rebuilding knowledge could only be done in this way.

“The Twins,” the Revolutionary said blandly, “A pair of cities upon a pair of capes, they are so close in geography and relations that they may as well be one city. Very large, very wealthy. I could not tell you more. The true jewel of Emre is Lunaire.” He trailed off, “Oh, you wanted to speak to the tourist.” He drew a wicked looking iron baton and banged it on the turret so loudly it made you jump. “Cow!” He shouted, “The Kommandant wishes to speak with you!”

The turret doors burst open and Framboise appeared, holding a hand to her ear, “Next time yoo do zat or call me ah cow yoo will be walking!” She snapped at the Revolutionary, but her expression cooled when she looked down to you. “Ah, Kommandant. Yoo like ze book?”

“…Some of it more than the other parts. I’m not through reading it.”

“And…ze events?”

The Revolutionary scoffed at this discussion of fiction as expected, and turned his back on the lot of you, muttering to one of his men about the state of Emrean women.

“The broad strokes are,” you allowed, but you took the book out and pointed to the cover, “However, Signy…Cyclops and I, do not have this sort of relationship,” you pointed to the dirty depiction on the cover, “I am engaged and have a fiancée.”

“Oh! Felicitations~!” Framboise didn’t have the reaction you expected- a relief. “Iz eet…ze brigand princess? Ah ze cut girl?”

Thank goodness you left your crew with the tank. Jorgen would have made the joke that you had a cut girl as a fiancée. Albeit not the one on the cover of the third. “No, none of your books show her. She is a noble of the Von Blum family.”

The Revolutionary snorted, and Framboise made a puzzled face. “Ah see,” she frowned, “Baht…you know zem, oui?”

“I don’t think I know the one in the second book.” She certainly didn’t look like anybody you knew. “Speaking of, can I borrow another one of those?”

“Ah, of course! Wheech one?”

“…Both?”

Framboise frowned. “Baht, what will I read, zen?” A harsh comment from one of the Revolutionary’s men made her roll her eyes and make a sour face. “Non, ah will naht read ze babble ahf seething expatrié.”

“The third, then.” To be true, you were more interested in how people viewed your actions, not in seeing what stories were made up about you. With the second book seeming to not be about you at all, your interest in its contents was relatively small. All there would be were salacious descriptions of your anatomy to compare to the past ones. “I wouldn’t be skipping events that way, would I?”

“Ah, no,” Framboise giggled girlishly, “Zey act as if ze others deed not ‘appen, yoo know?”

Then why did she ask you if they were accurate? Language barrier, perhaps, or maybe she wasn’t interested in the smutty parts’ accuracy? It wasn’t as though there was a wealth of accounts of what had happened, you supposed. Besides your own personal journals.

“Oh, an’, ze signature,” Framboise touched her fingers together bashfully, “Cood you, do et to moi journal here, at ze paper mark? Jus’ do not read it!”

So you were handed two books along with a pen, one of the books with a deep red hard cover and fancy metallic ink filigree around its edges. A fancy thing, not hard beaten. You opened it directly to the “mark,” that was saving a spot just after the last entry. She needn’t be concerned with you reading it- even if you wanted to, you couldn’t understand Emrean anyways. She may as well have written it in whatever Malachi’s native tongue was. Whichever theoretical one that might be.

When you made your signature it made you wonder if you ought to have practiced it more. A scratchy and messy thing it was, especially left-handed. You cared far more about its neatness than the person receiving it did, who squealed in delight and held the book to her chest as though she’d won a great prize. It was a lot of happiness to get from so little effort on your part, at least.

You didn’t linger longer than that. From here, you’d just be waiting for the pioneers to arrive so the convoy could get going. Waiting, to go the long way. At this rate, it’d be evening before you got to the front, wouldn’t it? Potentially two days away from your unit. Who could say what might have changed in that span of time on an active frontline. In the dust storm battle outside of Todesfelsen, you recalled entire platoons being wiped away in the blink of an eye. Would you arrive at the company and find no place to go?

A blessing was that you could keep your mind free of keeping wary, with the fighting lines no longer so close. A tangible reward for your efforts greatly appreciated. You hadn’t finished the first book, Amatory and Ambition, but from the sound of things you wouldn’t have needed to be up to speed with your own exploits to be able to follow onto Lust and Liberation. So you began anew.

It was presumed that anybody reading this would now be familiar with the Kommandant- it didn’t start with the legend you’d unwittingly contributed to, or their origins, like the first book did. Instead, it followed a little girl. She had been found a stray, brought to Glockenblume for her beauty, her snow-white alabaster skin, her hair the color of sunlight. From there, she was positively spoilt. Children as her were given the tastiest food and drink, the best education, their minds made razor sharp, but their every demand was sated in such a way that, unwittingly, they became…dependent. They grew older, but were little more prepared to live on their own. An intentional flaw in their training, as it turned out. Or rather, their grooming.

This girl had lived as a princess until her fourteenth year. Then, though she wouldn’t know it until later, she was sold, at an absolutely colossal price. The sort of cost that made such evil trade worth doing, the price that very few could pay for monetarily. Prices that often commanded favors. So the shadows could slip their claws into the highest societies in luring the most twisted to them.

This beautiful girl was savaged by this unknown who had bought them. Savaged terribly, and they would bring their savage friends to share, and the details were as explicit as expected. You skipped them not because they made you feel awkward, but because you couldn’t bear to read it. Not now, not about this person. It turned the stomach.

No mention was made of the part you did know about- the part the subject had told you was part of what drove her. That she borne two children from this terrible time. Two children she never met and had nevertheless treasured.

She was finally at her limit, after who could say how long. She had been beaten badly, but when she might have broken, her spirit held, and because of that…she finally could find a way out. Her beauty had put her into this debacle, and her beauty kept her in. The man who owned her wore his personality upon his sleeve, and for all of the rape, had kept her pristine. So she found a sharp implement, faced her reflection- and sliced her pretty face to shreds.

It worked. Only just. She had taken measures to ensure she couldn’t be mended, and as expected, she was thrown out to the streets, for despite the barbarity wrought upon her, there were those who made sure she couldn’t be killed for her impudence. Finally free, her quick wits and vast knowledge found her friends. True friends, who grew to depend upon her as much as she depended upon them.

Years later, she reached a position of influence. For the weakness of her body and the frailty of her voice, she had a mind for tactics and strategy raised her to a high position in the gang called the White Eyes. The details were lost as you had to skim the book rather than truly pore into it, with your lack of time, but you did notice that the Kommandant here was…different.

Cool headed and cunning, yes, but also…immature. Relationships were a new thing to him, and he did not know how to express affection. He was oafish in romance as he was clever in command. The Kommandant of the White Eyes and the Kommandant of the Republic had that in kind- for the young lady had been seriously damaged by her time bound to her former master. She had tried to reciprocate affection, and failed. She would withdraw at the touch, and cringe upon advances.

Not so with the Kommandant’s male company. You saw some diversion from events here, to push you two closer, as the enemy was swept away before your combined prowess, in spite of weaker forces. How much of Loch was in the “Kommandant,” you wondered idly, as Loch’s battle plan that had crushed the Death Heads outside of their city was attributed to you, instead. As they labored to prepare for the coming battle, they overcame their internal barriers pushing them away from each other. They learned romance from one another again, and the night before the battle, their relationship reached a new level- that you had to flip through pages to get to the end of. The author had been much more restrained here than they had been when it came to bedding Cyclops, however.

As in reality, Viska stayed behind to cover your withdrawal. As in reality, she lost an arm in doing this. As in reality, you went back to save her and her troops. Though the book’s motivation was much different. After the battle, however, there appeared to be no more battle to fight. Nothing to keep the Kommandant there. The angel of the White Eyes searched frantically for the next battle, the next conflict…and saw her hated enemy, who had been comrades in the great battle, but the battle was over. She set her sights upon them…and requested the Kommandant to accompany her to this next struggle.

…The Kommandant refused. He had to return home. The battle was over, he said.

She was crushed. The anguish depicted in her head, though she refused to let it pass her lips, was worse to read than the sex scenes, though skipping them didn’t help much. Their last interaction before parting was to make love one more time.

The Lady of the White Eyes did not stop her plans, even when it became obvious that, without aid, the plan would be doomed to failure. It was pared down, as her followers suspected her of doing this out of pride- and she told them, yes. That they did not have to accompany her if their lives were too valuable to spend on something admittedly self-indulgent. She saw her death in this, but she had no desire to live, either.

There was more to skim through, but a look at your watch and overhearing commotion outside told you it was near time to go. The Pioneers were already complaining about not being on the move right away. So, as your eyes passed over a scene of the pale lady and her followers, ready to make their fateful raid into Glockenblume with too few people and little on their side but surprise and haste, a hazy image was seen on the horizon. You imagined the ending, before you’d skip to the end to see it…

>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.
>Was this not a different history? Was there no hope? Surely the Kommandant was on his way, returning at the head of a host to save the day?
>Could she not still realize that this was to throw her life away? She’d turn around. She was intelligent, and there were other directions life could go. Wasn’t Cyclops ready to dismantle Glockenblume’s leadership not long after these events anyways?
>Other?

>>4684924
>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.

>>4684924
>>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.

Poor Viska... Poor little bird...

>>4684924
>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.

>>4684924
>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.
If she hadn't had the passion she did, she wouldn't have been Viska. Even if it ultimately killed her.

>>4684924
>>Was this not a different history? Was there no hope? Surely the Kommandant was on his way, returning at the head of a host to save the day?
It's too much, too much I say! She already died once, and I'll be damned if possibly the only account of her life ends so tragically again. The winds of change blow in Sosaldt, and on that day the Kommandant brought the sword of the Republic down on the Vermin of Glockenblume.

>>4684924
>As in reality. Nobody would be coming to help. You knew how this ended.
You killed her, anons.

>>4684926
>>4684976
>>4684983
>>4684991
>>4685021
Cold and cruel, just the way life can be.

>>4685009
But what if..?

Writing.

Though this version of history had vast changes, it didn’t seem to depart from itself. The Kommandant went home, and they wouldn’t be coming back for a while. As in reality, nobody would be coming to help. You already knew how this ended, but you turned to the last page anyways. Perhaps there would be a small mercy in a vague ending like the other book.

…The last pages had been torn out.

That was enough then. You stowed the book in the personal effects cabinet in the m/32 and hoisted yourself out to get a final meeting with the convoy commander, since all appeared to be in attendance. With the Pioneers, there was now your smattering of various forces as well as a couple of squads of panzergrenadier that had been left behind somewhere at some point. All in all, when the convoy commander had a last word with everybody, he seemed rather pleased with the amount of escort.

In the end you arranged yourselves with your tank at the front, with the Wolf man and his scouts atop your tank, while all your other Mittelsosalia people covered the back. It was for the best to have a Silver Lances tank leading the formation, after all, and you felt confident you could deal with the threats most likely to be encountered yourself. A set of eyes up top rounded out everything- for better or worse, you weren’t likely to have a problem. You would merely take a further while to get back to your unit.

Down the rusty, chilly road you all began, with a healthy distance between each of you. A perk of being at the front of the convoy- you didn’t have to suffer any dust kick up, and neither did your vigilant riders. As you all left, you heard the booming of the self-propelled artillery beginning a bombardment. A reminder that where you were heading, it’d be time for some of that to be slung your way once more.

The Wolf Man and you chatted a little once you were a few minutes out and at a steady speed.

“Narr says you people had a time of it up north,” he said as he kept his eyes directly ahead, wolf pelt rippling on his muscled shoulders in the breeze, goggles glinting in sunlight. He was built like he could have killed that wolf with his bare hands, but he had to strain his voice to speak over the wind and the tank engine. He didn’t seem used to exerting his voice instead of his body.

“It was tough, but we pulled through. Our infantry got hurt pretty badly. I suppose we were lucky that only my tank got damaged.” If you hadn’t used the Hellfire shell, it was possible that you’d at the very least have plenty more time to talk to Van Halm. Could you call him by his first name? Otherwise you’d have to differentiate him from his relative that attended the academy with you. “How did you all do down south?”

“Psh.” The Wolf Man scoffed, “Was boring. We shot at things, and they shot back, but nobody could see shit. They didn’t hit us and we probably didn’t hit them. To tell you the truth? The Northern Lords’ people, I don’t think they feel confident fighting you guys. They might have held back because they thought we were more of your black and blue coated guys.”

“The Silver Lances have a fearsome reputation.”

“Don’t doubt it. But, you know who you look like? Hogs.”

“Hogs? Like Iron Hogs?”

“Ayup.” The Wolf Man gave you a look and nodded, “They’ve got the black jackets and blue cuffs and collars too. They’re not as big a bunch of badasses as they used to be, but they were around enough places for long enough that plenty of people remember ‘em well, even outside of Sosaldt.”

“That’s something.” Did Heller Von Tracht model his mercenary group’s uniforms after the Silver Lances? The man hadn’t actually managed to enter the prestigious unit. In fact, you were the only member of the Von Tracht family to join the ranks of the Archduke’s Silvers Lances in two generations. “Tell me something. What do you think of Cyclops?” Signy was on the mind after reading a book about her, and the Wolf Man had been mocked with a fondness for her. It only seemed fair- an assumed lust from the Emrean woman hadn’t seemed to be what was implied on the face of things.

“Oh, her?” the Wolf Man became guarded, “I dunno. She’s got big dreams, and she’s gotten far in making them true. I like that. I like that she’s doing it for other people. So many people came around to the wastes because they don’t have a choice, one way or another. They’ve lost hope, or they think a place like here was the only way they could make it, or get ahead. Momma always taught me to be nice, but I had to be mean to get where I was. So when she started makin’ this new republic…hell, I liked that. I like how she hasn’t been broken by this place. Strong and feisty. Genuine. Don’t think she’ll notice me even though I’ve given up stuff for her, but that’s alright.”

“You’ve given up things?” You asked.

“Yeah. I had a whole gang, lands. A clan, I guess.” The Wolfman said, reminiscing, “The ground we held onto has fat loads of niter in it. More than we could ever really get at, and it sold for a pretty pfenning. Fertilizer and stuff, I guess. Don’t let this dust fool you. There’s places you can get a lot to grow, so long as it’s, well, not dusted over. The less windy and wetter places, like Gusseizenholz and the South. Anyways. The Republic got established for real, and everybody took it seriously after Todesfelsen and the Death Heads got taken over. I wanted to help, so I offered to make my territory part of the Republic. Officials told me what that’d entail, and…I’m no diplomat, no mayor, I’m a tough guy. So I let them take care of their voting and whatever and I took off right out of there. Else they’d try and vote me in and make me do more leadin’ I shouldn’t do no more. Hah.”

“I wouldn’t have voted for you, boss!” Came a call from the cluster of men gripping the tank tightly, and there was a round of cackles. They were in good spirits, for having to dangle off the sides and hang onto whatever they could. The lucky men found space in the convoy’s trucks, but at least a few had to be on the tanks to properly respond to threats.

“I’m sure she really appreciates it,” you said to the Wolf Man, “Did she thank you in person?”

“Nah. No need for that,” the Wolf Man sighed and leaned an elbow on the turret, “Probably doesn’t want to see no big scary guy like me. I’ve heard bad stories about how people messed with her. Can’t imagine she likes my type.”

From what you knew of Signy, he was right. She liked “pretty” men. Not rough and tumble rugged folk like this. Not that a man like him would have had trouble finding women, he was a picture of strength, practically a man from the cover of some fantasy pulp about a wild man, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he took inspiration from that.

Wolf Man squinted ahead, and then took an extending spyglass from his pocket and looked down the road. “Hey,” he said to you, “Slow up. About sixty meters, cheeky buggers’ve put mines in the road.” He sounded less concerned about that then he should have.

“Judge Above!” you said in response, then over the intercom, “Driver, mines in the road ahead! Radioman, warn the convoy, we’re slowing down.” You took out your binoculars and looked yourself, “Next time, you can just say mines,” you said to the Wolf Man.

He shrugged. “Figured they were still pretty far. These guys must have been in and out. They didn’t have time to bury them.” The tank jerked to the side, and slowed as the other vehicles in the convoy began to stop as well.

Grumbling pioneers went out ahead with panzergrenadier to clear out the mines as everybody else waited, and after a quick look about to settle your sense of caution, you gave the Wolf Man some appreciative compliments.

“You’ve sharp eyes,” you said.

“Thanks. They’ve kept me alive longer than my muscles, and I didn’t even have to work for ‘em.” He wore a jacket in the cold, but his arms were threatening to burst out of his sleeves. From the look of the seams near his shoulders, that might have actually happened in the past.

When the convoy was moving once more, nobody was in much mood for more small talk. A sense of alarm put the nerves on edge, but besides a couple more lines of mines and a few shapes that the Wolf Man and his men scared away with rifle shots, there was no threat to the convoy. The toughest opponent turned out to be the wait as you drove down the road.

Eventually, there was a joint in the road, where it linked into what must have been the Northway Road. It was an impressive construction- hills had been flattened and pits filled, and there were parts of the landscape that had clearly been carved away in preparation to make space for this black asphalt road that was so pristine it may as well have been paved yesterday. Modern and magnificent, especially for Sosaldt. Too bad that it was going to be used by the enemies of those who built it, once the allied forces finally overcame the fortifications to the south and destroyed the enemy pocket.

An outpost was at the joint in the roads, walled with red dirt embankments and sandbags, a bunker built in the center of the ring of walls. A few Silver Lances panzergrenadier came out to meet you, and you were the first to disappoint them by telling them you weren’t arriving with replacements. The panzergrenadier weren’t mean to be manning defensive positions, but the Republic nor the Ellowians had come up this way to take their place. The panzergrenadier were directed to meet with the Convoy Commander.

A short meeting afterwards. The communications troubles did not stop here- the men in the bunker were not well apprised of where the front line was, either. They assumed they weren’t at it, but they hadn’t heard back from their leaders who had left them there in some time. The forward supply point had been planned before the long range communications went black, but one couldn’t be sure if it was as secure as last reported.

Confidence was strong for the Silver Lances. They were still mortal, however. What you’d heard from Schafer and Hausen told you that they were not unfamiliar with defeat, with retreat, misfortune.

You weren’t going north on the Northway Road, though. There was a further branch to go east on, where you’d find people actually maintaining a connection to the front from this supply line. The journey continued.

This section of the line was better mined, better watched over. A pair of rickety looking armored cars that were painted Republic brown came up the opposite side of the road in a patrol, and you finally relaxed. A dull, but uneventful trip, as the convoy turned off the road through a chain of pickets that was the “path” to the frontline units, particularly the 2nd battalion of the Lancers Armored Regiment.

“Convoy says here is fine,” Hausen reported. A look around revealed a knuckle in the land, in a curved hill, perhaps a former dig site, from the abandoned and disheveled architecture around and in it. It was good cover- and the convoy leader directed you all towards it. As soon as you arrived, the pioneers unloaded and started preparing their gear, ready to fortify the dusty old collapsed structures, as panzergrenadier cleared out what could be entered or looked into.

“Thanks for coming along,” the convoy leader said as you got out to meet with him, and looked around this place to be made into a forward supply point. You were surprised it wasn’t already manned…though closer inspection showed bullet holes, burn marks, and blood stains, none of them old. This place had been taken and left. “You’ll be going along now, I take it?”

“Yes. I have to get to the reserve battalion.” You looked towards the setting sun. It wouldn’t be long until dusk, and it wouldn’t be a smart idea to move after dark.

“You and the rest of those Republic people?” the convoy commander asked, “I don’t want to impose, but there’s a lot of work to be done here. We could use any hands that can be spared…” He looked to the foot troops stretching themselves after the long tank ride. He cleared his throat, “It’d be appreciated. I have some spirits that were appropriated that I could part with. There’s no shortage of it around here, but we don’t want to make enemies with the locals, so no looting. This stuff is from home.”

>No, you had to have all the help you could get. Sorry, but you’re taking them all along.
>If you were almost to your people anyways, did you need help for much longer? You could leave some people. (Which?)
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.
>Other?

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.
Meh, we're still helping the battalion in our own way.
As a side note are we close enough to our unit that our radio works now?

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685184
>As a side note are we close enough to our unit that our radio works now?
Unfortunately no. Though once you're in the Battalion's operations area it shouldn't take much more effort to locate your company and get in short range range.

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685187
How about the 2nd battalion? Just trying to see if we can get a clearer picture on what's going on the line right now.

>>4685193
>How about the 2nd battalion?
Yes, you can try that, though you'll need to find one of its members first to get the frequencies needed to do much. Though, that shouldn't be hard to do whatsoever, since you're in their territory.

>>4685202
alright, something that can be settled after this vote I guess.

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685181
>>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.

>>4685181
>All of you could help, really. It’d be better to try and set out in the morning again rather than potentially get lost in the dark.
Can a man with one hand dig a fox hole?
Let's find out.

>>4685181
>No, you had to have all the help you could get. Sorry, but you’re taking them all along.

>Other?
Thanks. Some good spirits are always a welcomed friend.

>>4685181
>No, you had to have all the help you could get. Sorry, but you’re taking them all along.

At the very least we need to know what the situation is.

Alright I'm back now.

>>4685184
>>4685186
>>4685188
>>4685189
>>4685191
>>4685310
>>4685399
>>4685408
Get a bright and early start instead of wandering into the night. Help get this supply point set up.

>>4685914
>>4685951
Keep everything you have an go trucking on.

Updating.

“Some good spirits are always welcome,” maybe you shouldn’t have led with accepting a bribe, but you needed some of that good stuff. Just in case. “It’ll be dark soon, and dangerous to head to the front, so I think we can all stay and help you set up. The faster this is done the better, yes?” It was still helping your people in its own way. With all the unfamiliar Republic people, it was a bad idea to go wandering in the dark with communications in the poor status they were in. The whole point of coming the slow way was to avert risk to this bounty you’d managed to collect.

The logistics officer perked up at that and smiled at you. “Well, I can’t say I wanted to pull three tanks off the line, but if you’ll be here anyways, there’s uses I can think of…”

The price paid for your aid was given first. A couple of half liter bottles, one of whiskey, one of brandy. You surreptitiously filled a flask with the former- and saved the rest. Maybe you’d share it out for a celebration of sorts. Maybe making it this far was worth celebration in itself? No.

With half a hand and burns on those hands and on your legs, you were utterly unfit for physical labor, but you could still coordinate the movement of vehicles. Piles of rubble had particularly large pieces chained and pulled out by your tanks, and some clever improvisation by the pioneers created a temporary dozer out of the m/32, though nothing you’d want grafted on when you had to take it out for a fight again.

Framboise was utterly unfit for physical duties, as well, as despite her heavy equipment she was not actually in the physical condition you would have expected of a fighter- not that anybody expected it of her, though some of the Revolutionary’s men grumbled about it. So her tank and crew were kept on watch (even though the crewmen themselves seemed quite strong, though suspiciously well mannered), and the Wolfman had his eyes put to use instead of his arms. In the end, the amount of extra men made construction and unloading and organization happen faster without a few extra hands. Or hands and a half. It didn’t make you feel good to not be sharing in the harder labor with the men, but opening and closing your hands through the bandages, even with the pain duller, told you plenty of how well trying to help would actually go.

Once, a plane swept low and sent everybody scurrying for cover- it was not the only alarm in the evening, as then a few Netillian planes came by, only to be engaged by fewer of their enemies. It wasn’t a heartening sight to see an allied Ellowian fighter shot down, but the enemy planes withdrew after that and more of their ilk weren’t seen the rest of the sunset.

>>4685126
Its a Fictional Romance series, why couldnt she have a happy ending >:(
We need to find the author and complain

As the sun dipped into the horizon and everybody thought they might have earned a break from the rigorous labor, another convoy pulled up with even more supplies, more pioneers, barricades and fortification supplies that needed to be taken care of. Medical personnel wanting to set up a clinic, maintenance people with a field workshop. A mere forward supply point had, at some point, been advanced to the status of forward operating base. Whether that was good or bad you couldn’t say, but hopefully it meant that the line was stable enough that this would be a decently safe place to build this.

You certainly didn’t want this to be your second night in a row on the defensive with nobody but your tank and what allies you had managed to scrounge up by fortune.

Whenever you could, you tried to get news, tried to listen on the short wave, but little came until an officer from 2nd Battalion came around to look- a major, likely assigned to do it from his own headquarters as this base sprang up in the night. He didn’t have the time to tell you everything when you ambushed him and asked your questions, but he did sympathize with you having to return to your unit, with reinforcements. He said he’d see what he could do- somebody from your unit, or at the very least a courier, could be sent here to pick you up. He left you unsatisfied but with at least knowledge you were being attended to somewhere.

When the night came it was darker than pitch, dark clouds blowing in and blocking the stars and moon. Work was only done by dim, hooded lanterns, officers wary of letting the enemy get a bead on this rapidly expanding outpost even as it was clearly growing at a rate too significant for the naked eye to ignore. Work still had to be done in the dark, and it was half past two in the morning before it was decided to finally let everybody rest, even as work efficiency had slowed down massively in this darkness.

You got a few snatches of uncomfortable sleep before somebody dragged up artillery in the night and started firing it not too far away from where you and your people were camped, just a few hills away. Better than incoming at least, though the anticipation of such spoiled any further rest.

Morning came, not with your eyes opening, but with the sight of the sun peeking up and accepting that closing your eyes now wouldn’t do any good. Everybody was feeling surly and tired and was not shy about sharing such, but morning was morning, and breakfast was cold canned bread and cold coffee. You hadn’t thought there could be anything more vile than coffee at its normal serving temperature, yet here you were. You were forced to drink it by your crew- upon being told the popular alternative, which was to mix the bread and coffee into a sludge and eat it that way. It was the only idea more repellent than cold coffee.

Framboise was particularly peppy in stark contrast to everybody else. For whatever reason, after the Revolutionary had seemingly stern words with her, she went about the camp chatting with the men. Mysteriously, the general mood of the camp improved by a noticeable degree. Good for them, though it wouldn’t help get the taste of coffee out of your mouth.

News had trickled in, as more people were passing by and through this new forward supply point that was growing into a forward operating base. The long range communications troubles were apparently giving the Ellowians a lot of trouble. Whatever was going on was evening out the air fight, combined with the wear and tear of combat operations and other unknown factors. It wasn’t something that could continue to be tolerated- something was being planned for it. At the same time, fighting to the north was inconclusive. Neither the Netillians nor the Silver Lances could break one another, and though the latter could weather off attacks from the former, both sides seemed to know that the Silver Lances were wary of getting into a battle of attrition, as well as how much the allied Republics needed to resolve this fighting sooner rather than later. There was as much shifting as posturing as there was brutal battle, as both sides probed for weaknesses in the other. To the south, the flanks were under attack, and the line had broken in several places, but the expected escape of the encircled enemy from the pocket was…not occurring, even as the line was repairing itself through the deployment of reinforcements, and the natural consequences of the flankers having extended lines of supply being disrupted by raiders. The High Commander of Mittelsosalia’s forces had thrown herself personally deep into the fray, and was said to have gone missing. Yet if the enemy was still messing about in the pocket, while their escape routes became more tenuous…she must have still been fighting, yes?

Apparently it was shaking the confidence of the Republic troops. With that in mind, you didn’t relay that news to your allies.

The Reserve Battalion, forming the center of the Silver Lances’ line, had been absorbing the brunt of punishment from Netillian mechanized and armor formations. How much of your platoon would you return to? What would you do in the worst case scenario, where you didn’t have one to return to? Attach yourself to another reduced platoon? Become a platoon leader again and assume a place at the front with this motley band you found yourself with?

“Heikomaenderr.” Malachi put a heavy hand on your shoulder as you were sitting, waiting, pondering by the tank, wondering when the promised escort would come. “Caemerre.”

“Hm?” You blinked blearily at Malachi, “What for?”

“Frendecomminnorn. Whaldarchk.” That blabber only prompted a slackening of the jaw and a shake of the head from you, so Malachi just waved for you to follow him.

You were led towards an odd little improvised camp site just on the inside of the defensive trenchworks that had begun. At first, it looked like a forlorn motorcycle with a sheet over it, but as you got closer it became clear that somebody had made a motorcycle into a lean-to tent sort of structure, with a foxhole underneath, covered under the sheet. There was a funny, familiar sort of odd breathing sound coming from there.

Under that woolen sheet was a dirty bundle with a coat wrapped around her like a blanket, a fluffy blonde head and a cap tilted over her eyes, drool falling out of an open mouth. She was filthy with dust, and bandages had been wrapped tightly about one of her thighs- one of her guns was at her side, perfectly clean despite how caked in red dust its owner was.

You hadn’t expected to see your retinue again so soon- coincidences were a strange thing. Would she have seen your tank and known you were here? Probably not. The front was positively covered in m/32s now, assuredly, and the Von Blum mark that would have set you apart had been nearly blown off, taken off the turret and stashed inside your tank, on top of the additions the pioneers had made still being stuck to it.

Was that for the better, though? A look over to Malachi. He shrugged, and turned around to leave. Apparently you were expected to decide whether to do anything.

>Let her have her sleep. You’d let her go on her way, no need to pester her when she was tired.
>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.
>Ruffle her hair.
>Other?

>>4686693
>>Let her have her sleep. You’d let her go on her way, no need to pester her when she was tired.
If we have a coat, put it on her

>>4686693
>Let her have her sleep.
>But leave her a note. Say hello and that her sister is doing fine and is worried about her. Also tell her which unit we're with.
The captcha had motorcycles

>>4686693
>>Let her have her sleep. You’d let her go on her way, no need to pester her when she was tired.
We should leave something behind for her so she know's we were around.

>>4686693
>>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.
Heartwarming reunions aside she might have useful information for us. Plus it looks like she needs someone to yell at her to stop getting herself shot, again.

>>4686693
Actually, I'll change to >>4686745. She might have info about the location of our unit.

>>4686693
>Ruffle her hair
We may not get another chance ever again.

>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.

She'd be mad that we didn't. Be sure to ask her how her badass mercenary adventure is going.

And as other anons have said, ask about news about our unit, the fight and the Republic and tell her about her sister.

>>4686693
>>Ruffle her hair.

>>4686693
>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.
She probably has a better idea what's going on the line more than most people

>>4686693
>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.

>>4686693
>Ruffle her hair.
If we tempt death, fate will be kinder to us in the future

>>4686693
>
>Wake her up. It’d only be for a little bit, just some catch up before somebody would be coming around for you and your people.
Can't remember if I voted yet. It's been a day.

>>4686693
>Ruffle
Inevitably,
>Wake

Alright time to try and break out of this lame one update per day meme.

>>4686705
>>4686727
Let her sleep- but leave a favor.

>>4686745
>>4686747
>>4686958
>>4687004
>>4687459
Wake her- no floofing.

>>4686792
>>4686860
>>4687441
>>4687586
Get your burned up dirty hands all up in that.

By a hair, funnily enough, Writing.

She had to be woken up. It’d be improper not to- and she’d been all over the line, surely, as a courier. It’d only been roughly a week since you saw her last, and hadn’t been expecting her again this soon at all, but this was not a place replete with familiar faces- it was simply nice to see one, as well. How to wake her up, though…

She was dusty, grody, looking very much like she’d spent a few days doing nothing but going place to place, but her hair still had bounce to it. Little breezes would swirl in the foxhole and make her bangs dance. The temptation rose- you had to. Who could say you’d get another chance? Unconsciously, you knelt down and reached for her hair…

Yet stopped.

You knew she didn’t like that, but, should you do it? Or not? It felt needed, but…not enough. You let your hand down.

“Hey,” you called instead, “Sergeant,” a whistle, “Wake up.”

“Mmrhghhgh.” Anya rumbled incoherently with a long snore, and turned on her side, “Dmmeggrgh.”

“Anya?” You paused, “Hey, creampuff!”

“Mrghrdon’tsayshit,” Anya mumbled, before her eyes scrunched up again, and with a wide yawn, she rubbed her eyes, cursing, “Who th’ fuck…” Her eyes opened slowly, and she squinted at you. “…Oh, hey. Thought it’d be longer.”

“It’s good to see you.” Anya didn’t seem to be overly surprised or appreciative, but she was tired, and also Anya. You didn’t expect her to be falling over herself. ”How long?”

“A year maybe, some months.” Anya stretched her arms over each other, throwing off the coat she was using as a cover. She’d changed her undershirt- baring her stomach was the constant, of course, but she now had long sleeves as some gesture of adaption to the winter. “I uh. You sorta surprised me with this, but I didn’t expect to be here either, I guess. Got in trouble for something stupid and took the first out I could get.”

“I know. Your sister told me about it.”

Anya blinked, “You ran into her? Where?”

“At some town to the west,” You said as you shifted your posture to be sitting cross legged instead of kneeling, “she was helping the medical personnel take care of wounded.”

Anya grit her teeth and looked sideways. “Moron. She’s too close to all this…Oughta go and deck her.” Ironically, that was exactly what Alina had wanted you to do to Anya when you saw her. Obviously you weren’t about to fulfill that request.

“She was just fine, and worried about you, actually,” your eyes went to the bandage on Anya’s leg, “Not without reason, I see.”

“Oh, that,” Anya looked to her leg as well and moved it back and forth, “It’s nothing. I don’t have to do a lot of running with that motorbike. Not that I could after riding that thing. I still can’t feel my ass.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I’ve had worse.” Anya rolled her eyes at the look you responded to that statement with. “I’m serious. Some people with a cannon decided I’d be better off in pieces, so I tried something fancy with the bike. I didn’t get blown up, but I cut myself pretty bad on a…rock or something, I dunno.” She fumbled for a canteen at her side, unscrewed the top and took a sip from it, swishing around her mouth and swallowing. “So,” She stretched again and leaned back, lounging in her little hole, “What’ve you been up to, with that whole Silver Lances thing? Doesn’t seem like you should be here.”

“It’s…a long story.” Anya stared at you, like you’d said something stupid. “Alright, we have time…” So you told Anya about what had happened, from your perspective. Rolling up to the front, your brief firefight that resulted in your tank being immobilized and separating you from your unit, your efforts to catch up, the defense of part of the lines containing the pocket to the south, your platoon partner’s tank being knocked out. Heading into a burning tank (Stupid, Anya muttered), rescuing what you could of Van Halm and his crew. Going back to the town, and defending it through the night, after rounding up some Republic allies who followed you based off your name. The details of how it ended, you left out. Then, coming here.

“You know how dumb it was, for you to run into a burning tank,” Anya said dully, “Fire reaches the ammo, it starts popping off, or it blows the hell up. Who knows how close you were to that happening.”

“Well…I couldn’t just leave them.”

”I know. I’m not saying it’s wrong, just stupid.” Anya tilted her chin up and looked to her makeshift ceiling, “Stupid and cool. Wish I could have done the same for my people.”

“Anya…”

“I’m fine.” She said distantly, “You said you burned yourself pretty bad, though.”

“It could have been worse, but I’m rather useless in a fight right now-“

“Nah you were pretty useless in a fight before, even.” Anya paused, “Before the burned hands.”

You made a sour face at that. “Thanks,” you said sarcastically.

“It’s how it is.” Anya said in a clipped tone, “You have good crew though. Good tank. You’ve gotten this far. Just don’t do anything stupid again, how you are right now you can’t do it yourself.” She almost sounded worried underneath the forced aloofness. It wasn’t as though you couldn’t sympathize, or blame her for that, though. “…Hey, so,” she paused, “Never mind, that’s a dumb idea.”

“What is?”

“I know you want to get back to your people, at least, get that tank back to ‘em. They sure as hell need it, how things are up there. Thought I’d say I could take it up there for you, the state of you an’ all. But if I was you right now, I’d tell you to eat a dick.”

“I wouldn’t tell you that.”

“Anyways, you don’t tell me what to do right now, so I can’t do the same for you. Yeah? I cut loose.” The last part seemed a wary statement. A request that you still understand.

“I know. I just wanted to say hello, it seems like you’re very busy, anyways.”

“This is the first chance I’ve had to lay down in a while.” Anya put her arms behind her head and closed her eyes, “There’s been a shit load of back and forth, between all sorts of people. From your guys, to the Republic, to mercenaries, and back, especially now with some sort of shit going on with the long range radios or something.”

“I wanted to ask about that too. What have you been doing, as a…badass mercenary?”

“Mail carrier, more like,” Anya scoffed. She pointed a lazy finger to the motorcycle, “I don’t know what I hate more. That fuckin’ thing, or airplanes. Couple of times some dickhead tried to shoot me up. Swear it’s the same person both times. Put a few holes in the motorcycle but not me. I asked for a new one, but, I think I’m not getting’ one…Hard to pick out things. It’s been a blur, thinkin’ back. Going one place, going another. I see a lot of stuff, yeah, but I’ll need to, think on it some.” She let out a long sigh, “Fuck me, I’m tired.”

“Sorry.”

“Knock that off,” Anya said irritably, “Oh, yeah, those guns you got me. They’ve been getting a lotta use, but…ran outta shells for the munitions caster. Gonna suck not having that.”

“You won’t be needing it soon.”

Anya snorted at that. “Oh yeah, once you get up to the front and start swingin’ what y’got, huh? Hah.”

“Yes.”

Your retinue opened her eyes and cocked an eyebrow at you. “…Alright, sure.” A new lightness to her voice- you’d half said that as a joke rather than a truly braggadocious outburst, but…you felt yourself believing it now.

“Which is why I wanted to ask you about the state of the front right now. Have you been to the Reserve Armor Battalion? That’s the unit I’m with, Fourth Company, Second Platoon.”

“Reserve…oh yeah. That one was a pain to get to and out of, that center place is…just a fuckin’ mess. Something about the Netillians putting most of their best tanks there, but there’s all sorts of other stuff now, too. Think they’re throwing in what they can to try and throw off the balance…” Anya paused, “…That was another close one. Thought I was done, caught, but the people who grabbed me let me go, ‘cause…” Anya tilted her head to the side, and breathed out slowly. “Mag’s out there. He’s in his ground here, not back where we were. They’re good. Good enough to not have to fight except when they want to, good enough that I didn’t even notice where they were ‘til they’d let me get close. Good thing I managed to stash the messages there. That guy…he’s not the sort to strip search.”

That wasn’t news you wanted to hear, and your silence had been prompt for Anya to start drowsily rambling.

“I don’t wanna ask this, but…” Anya’s eyes narrowed, “Nah, never mind.”

“What were you going to ask?”

“Don’t worry about it. Not like I haven’t seen it before. It’s just the way things can go, for mercs. Same thing for soldiers. Just…y’know.” She broke off from there quickly, “There anything else? Y’need to get going, and I’m tired as hell. It’s nice seein’ you, but…we got places to be.”

>Any other things?
>That was it. Wish Anya luck, and get back to work.
>Other?

>>4688180
>That was it. Wish Anya luck, and get back to work.
Stay safe.

>>4688180
>Other?
Ask if she ran into Signy out there. The news is that she's lost and maybe there was a chance she had found her beforehand or could keep an eye open for her in the future.
Also ask, mostly as a joke, if she knows who Madame Muse Passione is?
Then wish her well. Maybe give her something to help her on her way. A water refill, some snacks, anything we can spare Idk.

>>4688180
>Any other things?
Heard anything about those Republic mercs? Needs guts to go running around the enemy lines like that.

>>4688180
>Other?
>Ask me. (More of a command, a bit of bite to it)

>>4688261
Since everyone is asking stuff, might as well ask which unit/direction she's off to next.

>>4688180
Oh man, now we'll have to fight Magnus. This is bad.

>>4688180
>Any other things?
We'll promise not to get Magnus killed, should it come to a fight.
>That was it. Wish Anya luck, and get back to work.
Just remember you're not in a tank right now Anya, save the heroics for later.

>>4688698
Can we really guarantee that though? Not like we'll know on the battlefield, and if the Netillians are sending their best stuff here the Blue Knights probably upgraded their gear.

>>4688710
We can promise to try. Because that's what I'm intending to do.

>>4688698
>We'll promise not to get Magnus killed, should it come to a fight.
How can we even guarentee that when its two divisons worth of armor being thrown about. Making promises we cant keep is just stupid, she knows it and Richter knows it.

>>4688739
What >>4688777 says. I get the sentiment but it really seems like an empty promise to me.

>>4688777
Of course he could get killed off screen, but that's not what we're promising. We know what his tank/unit looks like, and I'd try to keep him alive if it's within our capacity.

We may not succeed but I would rather an earnest hope than have her suffer with the knowledge that either Richter or Magnus will die in the next few days.

>>4687850
>Alright time to try and break out of this lame one update per day meme.
Im glad we've upgraded to 48hr update cycles. More time to rethink and regret Richter's life decisions

>>4689712
Guess that's why he put 'try' then!

>>4689712
>>4689760
My apologies, it didn't seem to work out yesterday or today, but I'll try for it as soon as I can. I'd offer reparations but I think stuffing up these threads with the stupid shit I draw half for practice and half for giggles wouldn't be a good idea, probably better to keep that stuff to twitter. After all posting pictures of Hilda in her underwear right in the thread sort of undermines how you're supposed to feel about her, at least a little.

Anyways I'll tally votes and update after I make dinner.

>>4689910
Its cool. After almost half a decade of participation, I've gotten used to waiting in Tanq Standard Time.

I can still remember what felt like weeks being stuck in those mountains ambushing that Death's Head convoy.

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46 KB JPG

>>4689927
It's crazy to think that we've been playing this quest for almost 30 years now.

>>4689950
Time flies huh?

So while we wait for tanq to update any thoughts on the situation so far fellow anons? Right now the strategic situation looks pretty grim but if the jamming can be stopped IMO the Republics should be able come out on top.

>>4690260
I was sure from the start we'll go after the jammer eventually.

>>4690264
Dunno, to me it sounds like something Reinhold and the Griffin boys will be tasked with, while Richter has his showdown with Magnus. Our battalion is kinda stuck on the line after all.

>>4690276
Magnus will be defending the jammer, it's obvious.

They’d only known each other a relatively short time- they’d even started off extremely adversarial to one another, but you knew what Anya was refusing to say. That Captain of the Blue Knights mattered to her. Mercy was unreasonable in the battlefield, though. It couldn’t be offered before victory, before the fighting had a conclusion. Not unless neither party wanted to fight. If you chanced upon encountering Magnus, Captain Edelschwert, would he even know who he was facing?

“…I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep-“

“Then don’t.” Anya cut you off sharply.

“Alright,” you frowned, “Still. I’ll try my best.”

Anya stared at your face, a silent judgment. “…Mmm.” She shifted sideways and let her head hang off to the side. A few moments of nothing but the breeze. Her bright green eyes, somehow duller, slowly made their way back to yours. “…Guess there’s somethin’ else.”

“Some other things, yes.”

“…Kay,” Anya stretched again and made a grimace as she cricked her neck and her shoulders, “Gimme a minute, oughta get up for this. There coffee around?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Meat? I haven’t had anything made of meat for days.” You shook your head again. “Damn it,” Anya muttered, “I’ll have to kill and eat a person at this rate. The only things that live on grains are chickens.”
Your retinue noticeably left her uniform coat behind- not that you minded, but, “Do you want to take your coat?” You asked, “It is pretty chilly right now.”

“It is, but I don’t need it right now. I’ve got hot blood.”

Did she now. Hot blood or not, you also noticed that Anya walked with a small, discomforted limp. That leg wound, even if she was dismissive of it, wasn’t doing her agility any favors.

“Hold on, I’ll get you coffee and food myself, wait there.” You pointed to a forlorn cargo crate marked with the emblem of the Archduchy. It wasn’t a munitions crate, but you didn’t bother to read what it was besides that. It couldn’t have been very important if it was just left there.

Anya sat down against the crate, and you thought about what there was to get just a short bit away. Despite her complaints about her recent diet, there really wasn’t anything besides the canned bread and coffee. Nothing that had been handed out, at least, and busting into something yourself to grab it would be a good way to give one of the logistics people an excuse to pack you into a box yourself and ship you right into the sea. Lamenting about this to Malachi produced an unexpected result- he gave you a square wax paper wrapped chocolate bar that was as thick as your thumb and wide across as your palm. What exactly was he saving this for? You asked that, and he shrugged.

“Emck, butsheyous.”

“…Alright then. Thanks.” But she’s yours? Well, in a way.

You went back to spoil Anya, and as expected, she turned her nose up at canned bread, but when you gave her the chocolate she blinked in surprise.

“…Really? You don’t want any of this?”

“I don’t need it as much.” Half of the chocolate bar vanished in an instant. “Wait, don’t eat that so fast, you crazy…”

“Ith mine duh eed!” Anya protested. Any second thoughts had vanished as quickly as the chocolate was disappearing. Somebody had taken your retinue and replaced her with a pelican.

“Anyways,” you sighed as you sat to her side on the ground, “I wanted to ask a few things, such as…you know the Minister of the People? Cyclops?”

“Yeah,” Anya said, eyes firmly locked on the chocolate bar, “That weird fuzzy eyebrows girl that kidnapped you after you both wandered around drunk and when you came back you were fucked up as all…” She paused, and continued. “I saw her, not recently. She had me take a message to that bunch of badass tank mercs that went and buried themselves so deep in the enemy that people lost track of where they were. That lady gave me a direction and I went to find ‘em. ‘Course, I found ‘em. They’re being led by this guy with a cocky attitude and a nasty scar down his face. Nasty like nice, y’know? He was pretty good looking all over really.”

That was the subject of another question, but you kept on Signy. “There’s a rumor going around that she’s gone missing in the fighting down south. I was hoping you might have seen her, or passed by where she was.”
Anya gave you a sympathetic glance. “Nah. I’ve been up here the whole time. I only saw her once so far.”

“Thank you anyways,” you sighed. Even though you weren’t sure if you were close anymore, you didn’t want Signy, the hopeful dreamer who was willing to sacrifice everything for this upstart Republic, to suffer a terrible end. “You met those Republic Mercenaries, though? It sounds like they have a lot of guts.”

“Funny you say that,” Anya bit the chocolate bar in half again, “Dey don theem dat logal.”

“Not local? How so?”

Anya swallowed. “I mean, mercs come from all over, yeah? I’ve heard all sorts of ways people talk. I’ve only heard one sort of person that sounds like the way this guy, and all of his men talked. Every one I heard sounded like they came from Czeiss. Don’t know much about that place, besides, y’know, the people writing outta it, but…”

“Loch,” you said to yourself, eyes narrowing. Could you really be surprised?

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “Did they seem…military?”

“Yeah. That’s not too rare with some sorts, I mean, but not Reich sorts, y’know.”

“I wonder what they’re doing here of all places,” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno,” Anya said, unconcerned. “I mean, they weren’t really trying to hide where they were from too much, but if the Reich really wanted to do something here, they could send a whole lot more guys and equipment, don’t you think?”

“Much more,” you agreed, “Who knows. Maybe it’s only one small group in the Reich that wants anything to do with this.”

“At least they’re on our side,” Anya said, putting her hands behind her head and leaning back against the crate, “You’re not wearing that dumb mask. What’s up with that?”

“Oh,” you touched your face, “I was told to keep it off.”

“Good,” Anya closed her eyes again and let her hat fall over her face, “You look better like that.”

“I don’t like how I look, like this,” you said defensively.

“Well, I like it,” Anya sniffed, as though offended.

“Anyways…” You wondered what else you could chat about, “…Have you ever heard of somebody called Madam Muse Passione?”

Anya opened her eyes again and furrowed her brow, squinting at you. “No? Who’s that?”

“An author, she lives in Wossehnalia. A romance writer or something.”

“I don’t read those sorta books,” Anya said dismissively, “I don’t read anything by women. They’re idiots, and write about dumb shit.”

To each their own opinion on that. “So when are you writing your book?”

“I’ve already written like three, doing your paperwork.” Anya closed her eyes again. “Where would you even hear of that person anyways? I didn’t think you read that sort of trash.”

“Hearsay.” You didn’t have much desire to bring up the series about a womanizing fictional version of you to Anya, especially considering the risk that there were more books you didn’t know about. Judge Above forfend if it turned out your amorous double’s next target was your retinue, what with the assumptions of the masses as they were. “Do you have an assignment? Where are you going next?”

“Don’t know. Nowhere yet,” Anya said, “S’why I was getting some shuteye. Either that or the commander here’s bein’ sweet on me, don’t think so, tho’. I’ll sit around here until they get me going someplace again, and ‘til then, I’ll lie in my hole and see if I can’t dream something dirty.”

“…I didn’t interrupt something, did I?”

“Wouldn’t you like t’ know,” Anya stuck her tongue out, “Don’t pretend like your ass is getting more of getting shot at in dreamland.”

“I’ve been getting nothing.” It could have been worse. The Demiphantom could have pulled you away again, but your supply of blackflower was holding out, meager as it was. “Maybe you can get yourself washed off while you’re sitting around.”

“Speak for yourself. At least I don’t smell like I’ve been cooked.”

File: tcqscene184.png (1.27 MB, 1226x850)

1.27 MB PNG

You both sat there, quiet for a bit. The banter was fun, but it was putting off other things.

“…Somebody’ll be comin’ for you soon, huh. Should get yourself ready.”

“Not yet. There was one more thing.”

“Yeah? What?” Anya peered at you from under her tilted cap.

“Ask me.” You said firmly.

“…”

“The thing you stopped yourself from asking.”

Anya stared at you, and you stared back. This wasn’t going to be budged on- yet, she stalled, looked off to the side, then the other. She was usually so direct about this sort of thing.

“…Just, remember that you don’t have to die just because somebody wants you to,” Anya said finally, “Goes for anybody. I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years. I’ve seen plenty just go off and never come back. Sometimes I came back and they didn’t. It’s not something that stops, but…I can want that to happen less, can’t I? But…” She slumped back and sighed every bit of air in her lungs out, “He doesn’t want to fight you, or all of your people. He’s got something else he’s waiting for. He’s only here because he’s got to be. I told him what I just told you. If you get the chance…please don’t kill ‘im. But please don’t die either. That’s…all.” Anya’s mouth had turned down in a tired, melancholic frown, “Fuckin’ stupid thing to ask. Should have made up some bullshit like telling you to quit stealin’ my underwear.”

You had done no such thing, but you nodded solemnly. “I said I couldn’t promise it already. But I…wanted to be sure. That it was important enough.”

“Yeah.” Anya said quietly. Then nothing. “…Hey. One more thing before you piss off and suddenly reappear for some reason in a week. You’re heading right out into the thick of it, y’know.”

“Yes.” Something to be resigned to. It could be easier- or it could be much worse.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m on my own right now. I’m doing my thing. But,” Anya looked at you, chin up, “I can’t just sit here and let you go off after I ask something like that. I’m busy, but I can do something for you. If you want. If you want something, I’ll give it a shot. Somethin’ little. To help you get on through. Don’t be shy about it. If this is the last time I see you, I don’t want to think I just took your shit and let you leave.”

>?
>Just seeing her was plenty. Knowing she was safe. There was naught to ask to do or to demand.

>>4690328
>?
"You better not die either, hotblood. Also if you're ever heading back to town go make up with your sister, don't leave things at a state either of you might regret."

>>4690328
Anya is the best written woman in this quest, goddamn.
>Supporting >>4690334
You don't need an uninterrupted line at the near edge of the abs with this angle. It looks too sharp.

>>4690328
This >>4690334
We survived worse odds with Gerovic and we have our m32, surely things will go well right? :^)

>>4690328
Anya is best girl, and if my suspicions about Maddy are true, there will come a great reckoning one day.

But until then there's one thing Richter likes to touch, to mess with, they seem so fun and bouncy, wouldn't she let him Ruffle that hair

>>4690328
>?
>;^)

>>4690328
Can we get a canoodle? Haha lol you thought, actually just be nice to your sister next time you see her.

>>4690328
>?
There's no time like war time to make peace. Go squeeze, er, hug your sister.

Alright I'm not horrifically dead anymore. If I bothered to try (and probably fail but alas) fix my coffee maker then I would have the water of creation at far readier access. I ought to do that. Anyways.

>>4690334
>>4690342
>>4690345
>>4690986
>>4690996
Make up with your sister, and don't get murdered. Though the second part was implied, I suppose.

>>4690721
Let me at those locks

>>4690823
I do not know what the exact implication is, but it seems like you're trying to fuel material for a fourth book.

Sorry about the delays again, writing.

Something she could do for you? There wasn’t much you could think of for yourself, especially not with the deadly serious air of it all. Instead…well, even if you managed to botch everything up for yourself and your crew, or if you were just unlucky as hell, you wanted to shove Anya and Alina back together again. You had no siblings, you didn’t really understand their relationship, but they had parted on such nasty terms, terms you wouldn’t have wanted to part with anybody on yourself, especially not family. Anya spoke of her mother with such bitter hatred. If Alina and her never met again, would history repeat itself? Then, wasn’t a noble’s duty to their retainer to mind after their welfare and relations as much as their retinue minded theirs?

…Perhaps not in the way some Von Trachts had in the past. Anyways.

“Alright,” you decided, “Then you’d better not die either, hot blood.” That didn’t roll off the tongue too well. “Neither of us get to die. Though, if there’s something on top of that, if you head to the town back west at the end of the road again, then…make up with your sister, please. Or at least part ways without fighting again. Maybe it’s not any of my business, but, as a favor.”

Anya would have had every right to decline such a thing. It was a matter of her family, not yours, there was much you could only assume and didn’t actually know. She narrowed her eyes slightly- you were treading on something, but her frown slackened and her eyes closed. “Fine. I’ll try, but I won’t make that a promise.”

“So the other thing is a promise, then?” You got up, and Anya started to as well, though with her leg in the shape it was, you offered a hand to her.

“Yeah. It is.” Anya took your hand and pulled herself up, “Better be the same your way.” A long yawn. “I ain’t gonna have a second go at the sappy goodbyes and all. Save that for later.” Her eyes were looking at something with a hint of contempt.

A look where her eyes were- you did have a distant audience. The Republic people couldn’t be blamed for having attention on you, it was what drew them to fight alongside you in the first place where most couldn’t be bothered, but they were not personal associates. Anya was given a nod, and a farewell, and that was all for now.

“I’ll be seeing you later, then,” you said with your hands in your pockets, “I’ll try to be as intact as I am now. Take care. Stay safe.”

“Yeah. You too. Hopefully someplace besides this pile of dust.”

Much as you might have wanted to stick to your retinue like glue in this most hostile of places, a battlefield where any sense of sentiment would have told the both of you to stay close in your times of need…you were who you both were. There were things to prove, things that mattered more than comfort and security. In a way, letting each other go kept you closer together.

Rolled 1, 2, 1 = 4 (3d3)

When you returned to your people, all were in a state of ready idleness, like they were waiting just for the word to go. It turned out, the one thing they were waiting for was you.

“A Liaison Officer came around,” Schafer told you, “Was waiting for you to finish up.

“What?” You blinked, “Nobody came to tell me that.” Shit. “Damn it all. There’s no time to waste then.”

The officer wasn’t interested in chat, or explanations. Only demanded that you follow them in their utility car, and do it quickly. No nonsense. The situation at the front was not one to banter about, clearly. At least he was courteous enough to let you have your short goodbyes. Though…you couldn’t help but look back at the outpost as you left it, and wonder both if you ought to let Anya go, and, if you wouldn’t have rather had her in a tank at your side.

-----

A sharp warning over the short range radio warned that the line was in a state of flux- to be ready for combat at any time- kept everybody on edge as you were led by the liaison vehicle to the field headquarters of the Reserve Panzer Battalion of the Silver Lances. Once, you halted and spread out- a battle was taking place just over the hill, but it quieted down. Any suggestion to go and look was shut down by the Liaison Officer- you were going to Battalion, then Company headquarters.

Still though, you had Hausen test the network for your platoon. One couldn’t say if you were near by or not, but at this point you needed to get back and talking as soon as possible. Saying what happened, being apprised of the situation yourself, and if necessary, getting right into action the moment you arrived.

The artillery was booming too, on both sides, but your friendly support was being drowned out by the sounds from the north. The men not fortunate to be encased in the steel of tanks were very nervous all of a sudden, exposed as they were, but your close call had been elsewhere.

>Rolling for reasons.

The Battalion Headquarters was a meager sight. Far from its support and with its forces all deployed on the stretched line, no reserves available, there was only one pair of small tents and a few trucks, as well as the battalion command variant m/32 and its escort m/32, both festooned with a pair of radio masts even though only one was the true communications and command vehicle- the other was a true combat vehicle, just in case the armored but very lightly armed command vehicle came under a threat its sole armament of an 8mm bow gun disguised as the standard 13mm couldn’t handle.

The time spent there was very brief. Only long enough for the Liaison Officer to report fetching you, then report that you were to go to your company. You didn’t get to see Colonel Jagdmeister- would he have heard about your actions a couple of nights ago? Likely not. Maybe soon?

“Fourth Company is directly to the north,” The Liaison Officer said in a clipped voice, “Are these Republic Troops following you because they are lost, or are they under your authority?”

“Both.”

“Expect them to be taken off your hands, or to be reassigned,” the officer said, “Reinforcements are needed but in the current state of the lines, such is impossible. Be prepared to give up your positions if the worst comes to worst.”

“Are things that bad?” You asked warily.

“They were worse in Paelli,” the man said with little mind to if you knew what things were like. “They are bad, however. The Reserve Panzer battalion has taken near twenty five per cent materiel losses. Even though the Netillians have suffered for their efforts, our ability to absorb losses is extremely limited.”

Over the course of but a couple of days? This was a brutal battle indeed, and you were worried for your platoon, but…how long could the Netillians sustain this? Surely victory was in sight…or would you indeed arrive only to be forced to retreat?

Once you arrived at the Company Headquarters, you had very obviously come close to the front lines. Idle conversation shifted to wonder at the arrival of reinforcements, and when you got out of your tank by the company command post and flashed the manila envelope with the archduchy seal in wax, you were immediately shown to Von Silbertau.

The company commander known as Ladykiller, for rewarding a young noblewoman’s abandonment of her family with a beheading, was a man you’d met before- near white blonde hair and with a long blue coat, he cut a dashing figure even covered in dust that rendered him reddish brown up to the waist. Unsurprisingly considering your visage, he remembered you.

“Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht,” he saluted, and you saluted back right away. “Still alive I see. Your platoon was wondering if you’d ever get back. They’ll be glad to hear that you brought friends.” He looked towards the bunch that you led, “Where’s Lieutenant Van Halm?”

“His tank was knocked out in fighting down south,” you reported, “He and his crew were heavily wounded. They were taken back to the medical company before I came here.”

“So that’s why you were so late, is it,” Von Silbertau had easily concluded that even though you’d tried not to say you did it, thinking it an inappropriate boast.
“How is second platoon doing?” You pressed immediately after.

“Just fine. You’re lucky, they’ve had no reported losses. Only one vehicle damaged. The same can’t be said for most others, if you’ve heard.”

“I have,” you said gravely. “Ah, Oberst Jagdmeister wanted this delivered to you.”

You held out the envelope, and Von Silbertau snatched it dexterously out of your hands with a pair of fingers, flicked open a shining silver dagger, and opened the enveloped with a single swish of its blade. The envelope was allowed to fall to the ground as he pulled the contents out and read them rapidly, silently, his eyes moving over them as fast as they’d move.

“It seems,” Von Silbertau said as he folded the papers, “That Signals has been looking into the cause of our communications trouble. Triangulating. The sources aren’t far from here.”

You blinked at that, unsure if you were supposed to know the message that was sent, or if you were supposed to react.

“I’m telling you because old Jagdmeister’s sick of the interference and Goldfolger can’t say no to it even if he wanted to, the way things are.” Von Silbertau stuffed the papers into his coat pocket and crossed his arms. “I know your history, Lieutenant. I know these people are probably with you because of that history. The reinforcements are appreciated- and needed. Tell me, though, how would you feel about an assignment?”

You looked away for a moment. The time you went Absent Without Leave for the Intelligence Office had been an assignment too, that ended in a court martial. “Sir?”

There’s a set of coordinates here that are close to where there was a small skirmish. We took some ground. If the Netillians are smart, they may have pulled away whatever these are, but it is worth the risk to try and reach out to whatever these are and try and find out what they are, anyways. I’d imagine they’re close to the anti-air positions, since if I were one of them, the thing I’d be most afraid of is fighter planes finding these. The battalion’s not in a good position, but the company is doing better. We won’t win anything by sitting around and trading our blood for getting to sit in this patch of dirt. If you take this up, you take your band of free spirits and chase down the local source of interference. We’ll hammer out the details if you accept.”

“I appreciate the opportunity sir,” you said, “But would Captain Vehrlors approve of that?”

“You do not have to accept. However,” Lieutenant Colonel Von Silbertau put his hands behind his back, “If you choose instead to return to your platoon, I will order you to surrender command of these Mittelsosalian elements to me. There’s places on the line that need them more than your platoon.”

So that was how it was. Such was what you had been told to expect. Part of you burned to take the chance to make yourself exceptional in the eyes of the company commander- yet Vehrlors was waiting for you. Waiting for you and Van Halm. Would it be more proper to simply return to them instead?

>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?
>Decline. You weren’t the caliber of soldier for such a thing, even with all the help you’d brought. Your place now was in your platoon- Von Silbertau could do what he liked with your companions.
>Ask if perhaps this assignment could be…extended to others, as well as you? (How so?)
>Other?

>>4692949
>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?

Minor thing, but where'd we get the envelope from?

>>4692949
>>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?

> If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?
I doubt he thinks we can or cant do it, were just conveniently the only noncommitted force he probably has available.

>>4692949
>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?

>>4692949
>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?
I told you so.

>>4692962
you excited aswell for our Mittelsosalian allies to claim pretty boy's head as a trophy?

>>4692949
>>Accept the assignment.
Embrace that Von Tracht blood: time to chase medals and get allies killed.

>Other?
This might be more for later but: if the Nets are dug in heavily can we expect any kind of support? Mortars/Arty/flares for Ellowian bombers?

>>4692949
>>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?
Off to another suicidally reckless mission

Do the Nets have their own not88 equivalent like we do?

>>4692949
>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?
Too much happening in this plot thread to take the dutiful and realistic option

>>4692954
>Minor thing, but where'd we get the envelope from?
Part of the post seems to have gotten eaten at some point, so good catch. I don't know how it's not in there, but from the doc-
>The time spent there was very brief. Only long enough for the Liaison Officer to report fetching you, then report that you were to go to your company; leaving you to fend for yourself, though with a folder you were supposed to deliver straight to Lieutenant Colonel Von Silbertau, and not take even a peek at. You didn’t get to see Colonel Jagdmeister- would he have heard about your actions a couple of nights ago? Likely not. Maybe soon?

>>4692949
>Accept the assignment. It was for the good of the battalion, the division- and thus the platoon as well. If Von Silbertau thought you could do it, who were you to deny him?

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>>4692954
>>4692958
>>4692961
>>4692962
>>4692972
>>4692976
>>4692979
>>4693056
So on you go, for the glory. Or perhaps the acceptance that this is simply your thing.

>>4692972
I'm also interested in support.

>>4692976
>Do the Nets have their own not88 equivalent like we do?
This will be covered IC.

Writing.

There was no thought at all about whether you should. Would you be who you were if you considered otherwise? What gave you pause was whether Von Silbertau truly believed you could do it. With the lines in the state they were, it said enough that he hadn’t considered devoting more forces to this. You happened to arrive with enough men and materiel that he could attempt this operation without compromising his defenses. He was at least confident enough that this surely wasn’t a suicide mission, but it was certainly reckless. Reckless in a way you couldn’t deny being.

“I’ll accept this mission,” you said resolutely, “Though I do have questions about support, and what to expect.”

“As you should. Since you’ve accepted, we can get started on that,” Von Silbertau gave the north a wary glance, “So long as the Netillians do not decide to launch another attack as an interruption. I’ve had to take to the field to stop up gaps more often than usual this early into a campaign.” He paused, as though to invite fate to give its opinion. When there was but a blow of the breeze, he cleared his throat and began anew. “Support, then. The self-propelled guns are giving as much as they’ve got, but the triangulations that Signals is getting isn’t giving a good enough idea of just what’s going on to try and wipe them all away with concentrated artillery fire. Command is afraid we might just spook them and lose our chance. The ideal is that we capture whatever it is. Even though that means you will not have their support directly, I can ask some of the Panzergrenadier here give you support from their mortars, and try to get them to lend you a field telephone. I can’t force them to do it, but they should realize how important this is.”

“And the Ellowian Air Force?” you asked hopefully, but Von Silbertau shook his head.

“Ground to air coordination is near nonexistent. They’re mostly trying to keep the skies contested. I hear any attack planes are focusing on the south instead of up here. They’re being very cautious with what they have.”

Unfortunate. “That isn’t very much to help me then.”

“There’s not much to help anybody, Lieutenant. However, if you find yourself in trouble and you’re having trouble escaping, I’ll try to keep eyes on you to ensure you have a way out. Even if I had some inexplicable spite for you, this is far from a situation where I can afford to lose anything for no gain.”

True enough. “So what is the plan?”

“Look at this,” Von Silbertau unfolded a map, squatted down, and laid it on the ground. You bent at the knees to look as well, feeling discomfort from the wounds on your thighs as you did so. “This is where we are on the front.” He pointed to the territory, “Our platoons are spread out as such, each with at least a squad of Panzergrenadier.” He pointed to four places, “And we’re here.” He pointed to the hill you were both behind, a rise so shallow that it was only its width that concealed you from anything ahead. It was to the left of the center of the company’s line, and not far at all from the line of battle. Getting atop or on the flank of the hill would be enough to join a battle alongside one of the platoons. “Third platoon took this position here when they saw a chance to. The Panzergrenadier company commander here sent reinforcements to help hold that strong point, and it’s been a short enough time that the enemy there’s probably off balance. We’re sticking out there further than other parts of the line, and it so happens that we’re closer to a source of interference there than we are anywhere else. So you’ll thrust out from there and make your attack off that point.”

“What should I expect to fight?” You asked, “You said that what I’m looking for might be an anti-air position. Do the Netillians have any heavy guns like our eight centimeters?”

“I wish I could tell you that they did not, Lieutenant, but it appears that they do. I’d say they might even be inspired by our own. Their old equipment on newer mounts better suited to being used for direct fire, but dangerous anyways.”

Damn.

“If it is any consolation,” Von Silbertau said, “We traded one of theirs for one of our own tanks, it was reported. They’re moving them around. Those sorts of guns aren’t good for shooting down low flying fighters, so they’ve been moving them around.”

It wasn’t much reassurance at all, but it at least meant the objective might not be so well defended, if the guns were being used in a supporting attack role. “And the armor? Are the enemies here Mechanized Guards?”

“Some of them. Most of what is here appears to be surplus Ellowian equipment, as well as newer equipment modeled off of it. There’s some dangerous new ones that look to be modeled off the hulls of Ellowian medium types. What the Ellowians call the El.P-3, but with a new turret, new gun. Nasty piece of work.”

The sound of the enemies encountered sounded depressingly like the armored cavalry formation you’d once been fighting alongside. The newer equipment didn’t, but there was a mix of forces. The El.P-3 was known in Netillian terminology as the NKE-1. Edelschwert’s own tank was an NKE-1, not a new type, but an appropriated Ellowian one. Oddly appropriate concerning the man’s ancestry. Moreover, those tanks were a threat you…weren’t sure if you could deal with. The 4.7cm cannon hadn’t been undefeatable in your time using it, and the NKE-1 had demonstrated impressive protection when you saw it in action. You’d have to hope that the Netillians’ new take on it had less protection somewhere, at least, or encountering them would be a bad time.

Though anything else the Netillians had, you had demonstrated you could handle in an even match, and the same could be said for Framboise’s foreign tank.

“If you think of anything else, we have some time before we’re at the limit of loosing this arrow,” Von Silbertau stood again, “But before that, I think you should reaffirm that you have the support of your little warband there. I’ve been to Sosaldt. I know how their sorts work. From all over, motivated by their own goals. They fight for what they believe in.” He sounded almost…wistful. “Even if it kills them. But you’d better make sure they know what they’re in for, and that they’re sure they want to go with you. They’ve come this far, but…you don’t want any doubts for this.”

“I understand.” You were being followed for your reputation, your connections, but was it enough to keep them to you when times became dire? The only ones you’d actually fought beside in the struggle two nights ago were Framboise and Narr, and even then things didn’t go bad for anybody under your direct command. Well, Framboise had been doused with tear gas, but she didn’t seem too upset about it afterwards.

Narr saw a way up in the system. Framboise idolized an idea of you. The Wolf Man wanted…you didn’t know. He seemed to genuinely believe in the idea of the Republic, and the Revolutionary…you knew very, very little about. Both him, his men, and his ideals. Would he have your back in this?

>Have a talk with Framboise. Make sure she knows that this isn’t going to be some game or parade.
>Make sure Narr is alright with such a risky operation. After all, think of the rewards, right?
>Follow up with the Wolf Man. Would this not get the attention of the Minister of the People, given its importance?
>Get to know the Revolutionary. You couldn’t have an unknown factor, not in something as risky as this.
>Other?
Talking to more than two people may affect the timing of this- you don’t have forever before you get started. Also-
>Further queries/specifications about the plan of attack?
A simple map will come soon for the benefit of that.

>>4693870
>Follow up with the Wolf Man. Would this not get the attention of the Minister of the People, given its importance?
>Get to know the Revolutionary. You couldn’t have an unknown factor, not in something as risky as this.

We're gonna need those guys. Infantry is whats gonna win us this. Our tanks are far to outnumbered and outgunned and we'll likely be playing a supporting role. Maybe we can borrow a armored truck or two for them. Gonna need them to get in close and do the dirty work. If we can get in close undetected hopefully they can get in close before launching their attack on it.

Man, Narr's "tank" is far from ideal for this. Wish we had some heavy HE thrower to take out the guaranteed emplaced defensive guns defending this thing. I'd happily trade him if we could for a squad of panzergrenadiers

>Further queries/specifications about the plan of attack?
Beg the panzer grenadiers for a transport.

>>4693903
Forgot we only had 18 dudes for infantry work. Guess we're going to have to avoid any contact leading up to the attack and ready to bug out asap if we run into a strongpoint we cant blow pass.

>>4693870
>Edelschwert’s own tank was an NKE-1
Oh boy, here we go.
And from the sounds of it we shouldn't trust that we will get the jump on them considering that Anya was ambushed pretty well.

>Follow up with the Revolutionary
>Beg for help from the Panzer grenadiers

What does the Rev even lead again?
We are gonna be relying on Wolf Man to not step on a mine or get caught too early.

As for the Panzergrens, even if they can't give us troops, any spare equipment to upgrade the Mercs would help.

>Other Other
Any way the Platoon/Company could cause some commotion for a distraction? Even if it's just a literal smoke screen

>>4693870
Framboise seems like the type to be down for anything, and Nar doesn't seem like he'd be much help.
Soooo...
>Get to know the Revolutionary. You couldn’t have an unknown factor, not in something as risky as this.
We don't know shit about this guy. Better get to know him before we send him out to die.
>Follow up with the Wolf Man. Would this not get the attention of the Minister of the People, given its importance?
This too I suppose. Less because I don't think the Wolf Man would be down, but more because I'd like to talk to him more. Seems like a cool guy.

>>4693870
>Follow up with the Wolf Man. Would this not get the attention of the Minister of the People, given its importance?
>Get to know the Revolutionary. You couldn’t have an unknown factor, not in something as risky as this.

>>4693870
>>Other?
How imperative is it that we capture it intact? If we run into it we could give accurate coordinates for artillery. If they start packing up thats when we should hit it while their disorganized and scrambling to move their shit. Also give us a window for long range comms to be operational. An attack on it would likely pull any reserves or QRF down on us, since strategically, its the only thing giving them parity in the skies.

>>4693870
>>Get to know the Revolutionary. You couldn’t have an unknown factor, not in something as risky as this.
>>Follow up with the Wolf Man.
I'm wondering if we can use his scouts to make this a little easier on ourselves. Is there any sort of cover or concealment near the suspected position we can stop behind and let out the scouts to identify their defenses before we drive right into them?

>>4693870
You have the map yet tanq?

>>4693870
>Have a talk with Framboise. Make sure she knows that this isn’t going to be some game or parade.
>Make sure Narr is alright with such a risky operation. After all, think of the rewards, right?

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>>4694409
Here it is, sorry!
My apologies for being so late on this, again. I really intended to have this map much earlier. So I'll keep potential planning open right up until we hit the moment of action.

Anyways,

>>4693903
>>4693996
>>4694049
>>4694310
Wolfman

>>4693903
>>4693964
>>4693996
>>4694049
>>4694310
The Revolutionary

>>4694410
The other two in the tanks.

>>4693903
>>4693964
I'd really appreciate some of the panzergrenadiers' gear.

>>4694050
Question the necessity of capturing the thing intact.

Writing.


>>4693964
>What does the Rev even lead again?
A squad of ten infantrymen- with what is acceptable equipment for a standard line squad, with a machine gun and rifles of good quality and grenades. The Wolfman has eight men, but they are less heavily equipped with merely rifles.

Also,
>>4694310
>Is there any sort of cover or concealment near the suspected position we can stop behind and let out the scouts to identify their defenses before we drive right into them?
It might not appear like it, but Sosaldt, while coated in dust piles, has plenty of scrubby brush and woody stemmed tall bushes and patches where resilient trees have managed to get deep down into better soil somewhere down below. Auxiliary Scouts, I'd say, would be able to exploit this sporadic terrain well enough, given that it's what they did all the time before this.

“I’ll talk to the men I believe need it,” you said to Von Silbertau, “But, I’d like to ask, can you see if the Panzergrenadier would be willing to lend some equipment? I’ll need every edge I can get for this.”

“They certainly don’t need their trucks for the defense,” the Lieutenant Colonel said thoughtfully, “I’ll talk to them to see if they’ll give up anything else. The trucks are a necessity, though.”

Your shoulders slackened with relief. Your superior officer hadn’t even hesitated, so long as it could be spared. “Thank you, sir.” You saluted, “I will be ready soon.”
Whom to speak with though, you thought. Having a pep talk with every sub-commander would be too much a drain on time, so you’d keep it to two. Thinking it over, some of the most important personnel, and the most vulnerable, would be the infantry. They had to be reassured, on some level, that you cared about their welfare as much as the tankers, even if you hadn’t fought together yet.

So, firstly, the man whom you knew the least about- The Revolutionary, as he was called. You knew little about him besides that he harbored a disrespect for Framboise, and that the latter had called him a seething expatrié. An expatriate, you could readily presume, but was such a particular sort of Emrean? When you’d recruited them all, Narr implied that the Revolutionary would come up with some reason to work with you, so he must have supported the idea of the Republic, but what else? What did he think of you, you wondered. So, you went to talk with him.

“Kommandant.” The Revolutionary said in blasé greeting, as he stood up from his circle of fellows. “You come with the look of somebody who wants to talk.”

“I do,” you said, “We’re about to embark on a rather important mission. Considering that you’re to have a part in it, I thought it wouldn’t be appropriate that I know so little about you. I think that I ought to know what your cause is. Why you’re here, so I can try and keep that in mind, instead of thinking that you’re spare meat.”

“It is not so bad to be grist for the mill if change occurs in the world, Kommandant,” the Revolutionary said, “Miss Vang has created something where there was nothing. A seed from which a tree of Revolution might sprout once more, and bloom. The start of a path through the dark forest to lands only dreamed, even if her father’s idea of the Revolution was diluted by concessions to the reactionary status quo.”

“…Uh huh.” You tried to be accommodating, though he was speaking words you had to take apart and put back together again for their odd perspective. “So this is about the Revolution to you all?” What the Revolution was, you didn’t know, or perhaps recall. It was Utopianist theory, but they appeared to all have different perspectives on exactly what that was.

The Revolutionary seemed to be the commanding voice- the others did not speak, it seemed, as to not misspeak his intent. “A world better than most believe we can have. A Revolution without the ennui of the slave. It is something that must come about- the dream for better, and to not let obstacles stand in the way of that dream. You ought to know about such. Did you not leave the Archduchy and come here, to save your kin and to aid Vang in carving out the Republic from this well of entropy?”

…He was closer than Framboise had been, you supposed. “Them, and my spouse, who was abducted and brought here. Though I did not abandon my home.”
“Yet those who would call themselves masters were no shackle upon your will?”

“…Yes, I suppose so.” He must have known you were a low noble- some Utopianists did not differentiate between the hue of blue blood, you knew. There was also that the lords of Strossvald, at least in oath and word, promised to serve their people before themselves, by the theory of the Enlightened Ruler, whose welfare was intrinsically linked to the people’s welfare. The weakness of despots who divided their people against them was what had allowed Kaiser Alexander to conquer, after all. “You are Emrean? This is rather far, if you do not mind me saying. For you and Framboise both.”

One of the Revolutionary’s men scoffed at the mention of the woman’s moniker, and the Revolutionary’s lips pursed, but he answered anyways. “The cow is here to indulge in a fantasy. I am here to help spin the stuff of fantasy from air. However, the tale is too long to tell in full. A sad one. But I will try my best to summarize.”

Emre had once been a vassal state of the Grossreich of Czeiss- they had been bent to its will as one of Kaiser Alexander’s first takings, though not by military conquest so much as political force, subterfuge, and the mechanizations of courts. Disunity made them vulnerable, and though few realized it at the time, the Emrean territories became the Emrean Protectorate under the Reich- and it would remain so for a century or so.

Then, the Emrean Liberation came. The Revolution inspired the people against both their overlords, and their misguided brethren whom were the overlord’s willing servants. A war of a year and three months against their own kind, before they begrudgingly joined the Revolutionary Cause, and the Reich was forced to send their own blood to be spilt.

Yet despite the onslaught, the Revolution persevered, endured, grasped at victory, and in places, found it. Eventually, the Reich’s will to continue the grinding, bloody war broke before the Revolution. Yet when the Revolution sought to crush the Reich, to free all under its oppression, it was laid low by the rot of those who had begun the war as Emre’s countrymen and enemies both. So the Revolutionaries were defeated in the field, and the failure was such that the Revolution was shunned in Emre since.

“I was a boy then,” The Revolutionary said to his enraptured audience, “I carried a rifle for the Revolution. I fought in those battles of the final days of the war, where the sky itself was fire and even the day was darkness. Lightning flashed in the choking smoke, in the firestorms that spanned from horizon to horizon. I survived where many fell. Some said the Revolution abandoned Emre. I tell you all that, no, that did not happen. Emre abandoned the Revolution. They smelled the ashes, counted their dead, and settled. That is what it means to be an expatrié. The lands may have abandoned us, and many of its people, but Emre is not merely the beautiful fields and forests, the moon’s blessing, la belle culture, it is also the fire in our hearts. A fire that was born in Emre, the torch carried round the world to all those who know nothing but the dark. And our task is to battle those who would snuff out that torch, such as the contemptible Netillian “Defense Council,” whom destroyed a Republic for nothing but their own greed for power.”

A rumble of agreement. You weren’t sure how closely you were following all of this, considering that the Archduchy was…not a Republic. At all. They did have spite for the Reich- was the Archduchy tolerated for their opposition to the Reich, then? Now was hardly a time for political debate that you had little if any experience in, anyways.

“So, Kommandant,” the Revolutionary wrapped up, “That is our cause, and who we are. You are another bearer of the torch, by you fighting here before and now. What do you think?”

“…”

“I will not judge. I know from what lands you hail.” Would he really not, though? You had the feeling he wouldn’t be impressed by false flattery, certainly…

>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.
>They were a bunch of looneys, frankly. Though you could commend their resolve, in service of aiding the Republic, and your own countrymen. Just cut the Utopian grandiose prattling.
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?
>Other?

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?

I won't pretend I share your ideology, but on this we are united.

>>4694578
>We don't know about the Worldwide Revolution or whatever, but were we not taken by the cause of liberating Ellowie? So we do have a not insignificant amount in common.

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?

>>4694578
>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?
Is there anything more beautiful than the Solidarity of Men?

>>4694578
>>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine.
But ultimately leads to:
For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?

>>4694578
>Liberation of the oppressed? Vanquishing of villains? You could get behind that. Sure, that cause sounded just fine. Were you and them that different, when it came down to it?
Getting used like a tool over and over by the IO warrants some change I think.

>>4694578
>>You didn’t know if you were something so lofty as a bearer of a torch, but they could believe what they liked. For this battle, at least, you called them comrade.
Lets tie it up again, I love coin tosses

Surprisingly even split here of the balance of humility and justice, it seems. Or however one might interpret it.

>>4694582
>>4694591
>>4694655
>>4695011
>>4695339
>>4695372
You're not that special, but think what you will. This battle was what was happening now.

>>4694590
The world is large, and your cause is not so vast. Here, you shared something, at least.

>>4694611
>>4694612
>>4694656
>>4694936
>>4695310
>>4695404
A heroic cause, and didn't you wish to be a heroic figure? Were you so different from one another?

Hmm, I think I can work with this, actually. Maybe. Writing.

It was hard not to be taken with talk of heroism- liberation of the oppressed, vanquishing of villains, but you just weren’t everything that was being implied. The implication that you were some champion of morality was laughable, you were hardly some torchbearer of the flame of justice or whatever. However, you hadn’t given up on trying, not yet. On one hand, they were free to believe in something not particularly true about yourself, but on the other…it was nice that people believed in you. The numerous imperfections merely had to be made up for. It was something to aspire to. Even though you didn’t agree with their politics, if they were the breed of Utopian that wanted to abolish the very meaning of class and nobility, you could be their comrades in this war, for the cause of justice. Both to aid others, and because of what had been done unto you by both enemy and supposed ally.

The Revolutionary waited patiently as you thought this over. You wanted to put more shortly, after all.

“I don’t know if I can be called anything like a bearer of a torch, you admitted, but I do want to do some good in the world. I want to do better, to live up to such a standard. I can’t be called a hero, but I can be called a comrade, in this battle here.”

The Revolutionary gave you a long look. “You are proud for somebody so young.”

“I am not so young,” you said, “I have much to live up to since I was born, and since then, I feel as though I’ve needed to prove more and more.”

“You are young,” the Revolutionary said with finality, “You just don’t realize it yet. In any case, you do not have to bear your burdens by yourself, do you? That is the funny thing about the Revolution. One may find friends and brethren no matter where they go…”

Such politics was a good place to cut it off. “I appreciate that you think of me so. I hope I don’t disappoint.” You began to turn about to go, “I’ll come back when it’s time to brief on our mission.”

“Keep your back strong, and your shoulders straight. The world is shockingly heavy to carry for more than a moment.”

…You took that as a farewell of sorts, even if you had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Next, you went over to the Wolf Man and his troops. A different sort of strangeness than the Revolutionary, as Sosaldtians, or now, rather, Mittelsosalians? The Wolf Man certainly seemed to consider himself something as such. The man stuck out, big as he was, and with the wolf pelt over his back, standing away from his soldiers, themselves bickering over a bag of what seemed to be jerky that they had most certainly not shared before. You were not offered it now either, as it seemed to be hidden away with your approach. Good thing they hadn’t gotten that out while Anya was in the vicinity.

The Wolf Man must have heard you approaching, but he did not turn his head as he surveyed what was out there, whatever he was looking at, while you stood beside him.

“What’s up, Kommandant,” the Wolf Man said, without turning his head.

“We have a tough mission coming up,” you said, “But it’s important. I wanted to make sure you and your men were on board, and that I know that you’re up for a fight. I want to know you a bit more before we head into something that might go badly.”

“I’m always up for a fight.”

“One that you believe in, though, er…Wolf Man.”

“Wolfgang.” He didn’t allow space for an apology or correction. “Guess Wolf Man is what everybody calls me anyways. More about me, though, huh. You know something funny about the Wolf Man thing?” He tapped the pelt he wore, “Wolfgang’s not some pretend name. It’s the name my mum and dad gave me, but since it’s got Wolf there, people want to see something like the fur. So I just do it because people want it. This ain’t no secret, but…I actually fuckin’ hate this thing.” He made a dismissive brush off of the pelt, “It smells rank no matter how y’wash it, it’s itchy, and honest, I hope it rots off my back so I can ditch it and say I haven’t had time to find another wolf, but this bastard’s sticking around out of spite, swear. But, everybody else likes it, what can you do.” A pause. “Hey, Kommandant’s not your name, right.”

Oh. That was a fair point. “No, it’s…Richter.”

“Not the name I expected. I’ll just keep saying Kommandant.” He pulled a thick cigarillo out of his pocket and a match, and lit it while setting it on his lip. “So I’ve talked plenty, but momma always said being the only one spilling all the beans just makes you look dumb. So I want t’ ask. You got anything that sticks to you don’t like? If y’know what I mean. Besides the face.” He breathed in cigar smoke, let it out, “And the scarf. Sorry, but that thing just looks fuckin’ gay, so that can’t be something you picked out.”

>?

>>4695567
"It belongs to my wife. My wife's mother to be exact. There was a time, after the events of Todesfelsen, where I became...unstable. The details of my mental state are classified if you'd believe it, but regardless of how together my mind was, I was still expected to lead, fight and do my duty as a commander. When I was at my lowest, it was this scarf and the memory of my wife that kept me sane. I can't say it looks the best, especially how it is now, it's all but lost her smell, and I've long since stopped truly needing it for emotional support...but it reminds me of her and what's waiting for me back home. So I keep it on"

>>4695587
Pretty much this. Similarly, he might not like the physical aspects of wearing the wolf pelt, but maybe it helps remind him of what his people see in him and what he's fighting for?

>>4695567
>>4695587
This
We wear these around our necks for different reasons Wolfgang, but we shall both keep wearing them for some time I think.

>>4695587
mostly this, but I feel we should leave out Richter's mental state before they start thinking an unstable suicidal gloryhound is leading them.

>>4695567
>>4695685
This. Maybe frame it emotional support over getting over the face and hand?

>>4695685
agree

>>4695685
Supporting

>>4695685
>>4695716
yes

>>4695587
>>4695618
>>4695678
The scarf is hardly something stuck to me that I hate. It's what I keep to know what I have.

>>4695685
>>4695716
>>4695731
>>4695744
>>4695753
Though perhaps don't make yourself too vulnerable.

Update soon.

Plenty of slights had been directed towards this pale blue scarf, whose color managed to endure despite all the abuse you’d put it through by now. Its silk was woven strong, and it wasn’t fraying, but you did fear for it in spite of that. Was it stuck to you? You didn’t think so. “It belongs to my wife,” you said softly, “My wife’s mother, to be exact, though she’s been dead a while. Sometime after Todesfelsen, the place I went and fought in in the first place to save her, I had…a bad time.” A very imprecise if accurate summary, but the sum total of what had actually happened to you wouldn’t inspire confidence. “But no matter how bad a time I was having, I was still expected to lead, to fight, to do my duty. When I was at my lowest, I had this scarf, and the memory of my wife, to keep me sane. I’m in a better place now, and I haven’t truly needed it to lean upon, but, it reminds me of her, that I’m being waited for at home, that there’s a reason to survive besides just to live. So I keep it on.” Even if Maddalyn’s perfume no longer suffused it, you could pretend it was still there and feel it the same, so long as you didn’t touch your nose to the fabric to see if you weren’t fooling yourself. “It isn’t very fashionable for a man, I suppose, but you wouldn’t say your pelt is either. But it inspires your people, doesn’t it? That makes up for it.”

“A wife, huh,” Wolfgang said, “That’d be pretty good to have, yeah. What’s she look like?”

You wordlessly pulled the photograph, black and white like any but colored in places afterwards, and showed it to Wolfgang, hoping you looked suitably proud.
Wolfgang looked at it, then at you with a slight squint. “That’s the only one you got?”

“Unfortunately,” you put it away, “I got this one from somebody else, which is why it’s so…formal. I haven’t had time to get another one.”

“Anyways, that didn’t really answer my question, but, guess in a way it did. Don’t feel nothing sticking, huh.”

“…No, I suppose not.”

“A reason to survive besides just living though, huh,” Wolfgang repeated what you had said before, “I like that. You know, I told you that I gave up my lands and all for the Republic, but I’ll be honest here. I wasn’t really giving up much that mattered, anymore. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. I worked for it, and worked to keep it all this time, but…it’s the sort of thing people came to Sosaldt for, you know? To get away from their old life, and make it in a place they can do better. Or they come around thinking they can’t make it anyways, and this is the only place that’ll take them. I was the former, sick of my boring old life in Baou. But when I got here, and got up to the level I got, I realized something all of a sudden” He took another long breath of his cigarillo, and blew a neat smoke ring with a soft puff. “I had everything a guy could want. But, what the hell was it all for? Felt like, once I had it all, my life was already over. There was nothing left after that. Then…well, I saw Cyclops. At Wossehnalia, at first. Found out more about her, what she had in mind.” He shrugged, exhaling smoke again, “Y’know the rest. I saw that light in her eyes, that determination even after, and I just thought, let’s see how far this goes. I want to see if that dream can be real in a place where people lost hope. Hell, I think it’s real enough now. She’s got something people wanna believe in. Somethin’ to move towards. Feels like I was stuck in a ditch for years, not knowing how to get out. I’ve barely got more than I started here with now, but, feels like I’ve gone so much further just in these past few weeks.” Wolfgang took his cigarillo and flicked it an impressive distance into the wind, smoke still spinning from the burned stump. “So that’s me. How ‘bout you, though. You could have stayed after Todesfelsen. A lot of people expected it, some people still think you never left. But you went. You got a star you’re followin’? Just the girl, or something else”

“You could say that, I suppose,” you replied, “A few stars, perhaps.”

“The Republic don’t happen to be one, does it?” Wolfgang asked, one thumb in a pocket and the other on his rifle sling, “Don’t know if you think you fought hard for it, necessarily. But it’s still fighting you did. A battle you’re remembered for. Even from there, look how far the Republic’s come. Where do you want the Republic to go? Figure you’d figure you deserve a say.”

>?

>>4695922
>>?
Well hopefully it doesn't end up like the Netillian one for sure.

As for specific wishes where the Republic will go, hopefully it can provide a better place for its citizens to live in, one that doesn't require child soliders trying to rob tanks at gunpoint. And ensure that gangs like the Blue Barbs and Liemanner never rise again.

>>4695922
What this anon >>4695943 said.

>>4695922
This >>4695943 and also overall a place that was worth the amount of struggle Signy put in to set up.
Tell Wolfgang a story about the young republican we once knew and how much she's changed since starting all this. Justify his humanization of Cyclops as a young girl with a dream she's sacrificed a lot for. He seems to already have that picture in his mind, so proving him right with personal anecdotes should motivate him even more.

>>4695922
Supporting
>>4695943

>>4695922
Just reread thread #30 and sure enough, Wolfgang was there, wanting to protect Signy's smile.
> I took one look at her? I want her to be my wife. Some girls you look at, you want to bang em, but her? I want to take her home and-“
Should we encourage him? Signy definitely needs companionship, and the guy seems alright.

>>4696135
Absofuckinglutly.
Is he her type...like at all? No.
But in this day and age, persistence will get you as far as you're willing to let it take you, and he seems like a pretty great guy. Richter can even introduce them!

>>4696135
Yeah he seems based

>>4695922
Vassals to the Archduchy. Not likely to happen, but I'm thinking the long game. At some point the World Wizard Wrestling championship is gonna kick off and the whole continent embroiled in war, they are going to need protection, Ellowie/Vynmark won't be enough.

Sorry about complete lack of writing today, too late to start now anyways. I'll be updating first thing in the morning. Calling vote for now anyways.

>>4695943
>>4695977
>>4696025
>>4696030
It could certainly turn into a place that was like that which was now your enemy- a fate you'd rather it avoid. One certainly wishes for it to become all its founder imagined it could be, but...

>>4696288
...Does it have the strength to survive long enough to grow into that?

>>4696025
>>4696135
>>4696141
>>4696162
Also I think I'm going to help end the plague of bachelorhood. Two birds with one stone.

Anyways for now I'll just need a single d3 to see what's been scrounged up to help your equipment situation. Trucks are guaranteed- this is extra.

>1-Light Machine Guns- More guns boosts an Infantry unit’s attack power, naturally.
>2-Anti-tank Rifles- Allows an infantry unit to attack armor more effectively, from the flanks.
>3-Support Truck- A Panzergrenadier transport modified for assault, with a retractable roof and 13mm machine gun on a top mount.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>4697090
Let's GOOOOOOO!

“I only hope,” you said with measured caution, “That it doesn’t end up like the Netillian Republic, for certain.”

“I hope that too. Not even the old one.” Wolfgang agreed, though maybe not in the way you had expected. Right, he was from Baou. He’d shed his national identity, but perhaps national prejudices were even stronger depending on the person. The Kingdom of Baou had…you forgot. However, their history did have a lot to do with Strossvald and Netilland’s longtime rivalry, only temporarily relaxed when Caelus began to creep forth.

“Specifically, devolving into a military dictatorship that oppresses its own people, though.” Some Republicans and Utopians might have been critical of Strossvald’s aristocratic power structure, yes, but no territorial lord or their noble vassals would dare to put the people into camps or slums. They could not, with the abolition of serfdom and slavery introduced by the first Archduke. “I hope it becomes a better place in all ways. I was not here for long, but I saw how the region was in before. Child brigands. Slavers, gangs engaged in the most despicable practices. There was an enabling of evil that I hope the Republic does away with.”

“Well,” Wolfgang said with a sigh, “I hope it don’t become too much like other places, even the good ones. Guess I’m just hoping that everybody here who didn’t fit in whatever way, it’s not ‘cause we’re worse, is all.”

Considering that you’d blown in here, even temporarily, you could sympathize with that.

“I think there’s been enough sacrifice and pain for it to only be just to turn out well.” All of a sudden, you…remembered Wolfgang. Seeing him, at Wossehnalia that one party, before the move to attack Todesfelsen was much more than a speculation. He’d been more openly fond of Signy there, hadn’t he? You remembered how Signy was when you’d met with her. She was isolated, in a way. Made alone by the lofty expectations of her that, she felt, made her less a person than some symbol or figure of power. Yet, Wolfgang was very much humanizing her. Perhaps…you could encourage something? For once, have it turn out for the better? “Do you know Cyclops’s name?” You asked, seemingly without reason.

“…Uh, it’s Vang, isn’t it? Her last name at least.”

“Yes, but her first is Signy.” Her father’s name was Sigmund…did the man just name his daughter after himself? Some people did like their numbered names, you supposed. You half wondered if Signy was actually Sigmund the Second at some point in spite of her sex.

“Huh.” Wolfgang was giving you a puzzled look. He knew this was going somewhere, but he didn’t figure what.

“I first met her in Strossvald. The times were troubled. Imperial separatists were roaming the landscape and causing chaos, and I was in the thick of it. As it turned out, so was she,” you recounted, “She was in a bad state. Her father had been murdered before her eyes, and the same man who did that cut her throat too. She was frightened, wounded, but she persevered. She’s…a strong woman.”

“What happened to the fucker that cut her?”

“I killed him.” You didn’t regret it, but thinking back, that man…was he the first person you’d killed? He was the first you remembered. How many people had you had a part in the deaths of now? Back to the story- exempting the part that was impossible to explain and better left untold, where Signy sustained even more terrible wounds, that were healed by way of sorcery. “She didn’t give up, even though she had lost nearly everything. She came here to build the dream of her dead father. Not many people understand that, I think. Last I spoke with her, she felt that nobody saw her as Signy. That’s sad, isn’t it?”

“…Guess I can feel that,” Wolfgang said, “Haven’t thought about it in a while though.” Still hesitant. Funny that such an imposing man had grown so cautious.

“As somebody who knows her personally, I think the way you think of her is the closest to how she wants to be thought of, out of a lot of people.” Here, the strike. “I could introduce you if you want. I think she’d appreciate meeting you.” He wasn’t Signy’s type really. Too swarthy, and you got the feeling she was more into…more intellectual sorts? Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, and this man’s heart seemed in the right place, and perhaps that mattered more.

Wolfgang seemed to lose himself in thought for a second, before his mouth set into a straight level and his eyes closed somewhat. “Don’t get my hopes up too much. Still have to live through this first. Nice of you t’ offer, though.”

“I look out for my friends,” you answered plainly. However, he was right- not only did he have to live through this, but Signy had to turn up again. She and her escorts had gone missing on the front, and though it hadn’t been very long since they’d gone missing, you’d heard no news since. None of your Republic troops had been told this- especially Wolfgang, who you realized now would have been especially upset by that dire news.

“Uh huh.” Wolfgang looked back towards Lieutenant Colonel Von Silbertau. “Looks like they’re lookin’ for you.”

“Ah, thank you,” you said as you started to hurry back, “And good luck.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Lieutenant Colonel Von Silbertau had a look of contemplation when you met him again, and he snapped his fingers right as you approached and saluted.

“Lieutenant Von Tracht. I’ve good news for you. After some negotiation, the local members of our Panzergrenadier will be donating a pair of their transports to you, as well as three light machine guns that they found themselves able to spare.
”
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. More than one light machine gun on average per squad put the average firepower of your people above that of the typical Netillian infantry squad. Here was hoping that was enough, especially since your “troops” would be unfamiliar with the Von Muse machine gun, a fast firing thing though complicated and finnicky weapon. Not that they’d have to use it for an extended period, else there wouldn’t be time to teach them how to disassemble and clean it…though, come to think of it, you didn’t know how to either, not anymore. The coaxial machine gun in the m/32 wasn’t a Von Muse, after all.

More important was the Panzergrenadiers’ armored trucks. They were resistant to rifle fire and artillery fragments, to a point, but they could also keep up with your tanks without having to crowd men on top of your vehicles.
>Infantry squads have been upgraded to Motorized Squads, and their anti-infantry attack has been increased.

“They’ll be delivered by the time we finish making these plans,” Von Silbertau said as he laid out a map again, this time with new scribbling on it that was shockingly messy for a man of high birth as he. “As I’ve said, these are our rough positions. The enemy has been keeping mobile, as attack and counterattack and the precise fire of our artillery, when we can get it, has kept them motivated to not make themselves too comfortable. That does mean our intelligence of their exact numbers and equipment is not good, but rest assured, they do not have a wall of resistance ready to meet you the moment you stray out of our lines.”

“Is it absolutely imperative that whatever the objective turns out to be, is captured intact?” You asked when he stopped. “What if, for example, I could scout it out and provide precise coordinates for our artillery…”

“It does not have to be captured intact, no. What matters is that the Netillians are no longer able to use it. So it is necessary that you make damn sure that it’s destroyed, or this will have been pointless.”

File: raidmap_prep2.png (406 KB, 1500x1011)

406 KB PNG

“Understood.” Capture if feasible, elsewise, wreck it. Most likely you’d have to settle for shooting it as much as possible before fleeing. If this mysterious thing was so valuable, there’d surely be a quick reaction force at hand that would most certainly be more than you could handle, if you stayed for too long trying to figure out what to do. “What about distractions? It’d be easier for us to go in if the enemy didn’t only have us to focus on.”

“Indeed. That is why,” Von Silbertau pointed to the map, “I’m having 4th platoon and their support conduct an exploratory assault on this village by the lake, after an artillery bombardment. The enemy presence there is weaker, but they’d surely hate to lose it, and frankly, I was planning on trying to take it anyways with this new bulge in the lines. However, I’m going to keep 3rd platoon on the hill here, because I want them holding it, but also, because their angles of attack would disrupt your own approach, if I were to have them weaken their position.” He pointed further, “From what the reconnaissance have reported, there are four angles you can proceed upon. The position is approximately three kilometers from our lines. One angle here, will surely force you to face enemies in order to drive them out of their positions, but will mean an elevated place to conduct an attack from. Or, one could skirt around that hill instead, though it will be a long trek through enemy territory. In my own opinion,” his finger traces the pattern of a stream, “This canal is mostly dry, save for a muddy patch in the middle. It has a level of depth that can hide you well enough, should you choose to exploit it, though it is relatively narrow. You would not be able to advance down it in a fighting formation, though the sides are shallow enough from weathering that it would not be too difficult to adjust.” A final stab of the finger, “Alternatively. No muss, no fuss. Straight up the middle fast enough to make it if your haste is faster than their reaction. The most direct route, but it’s right between the hills.”

>Plan your attack. The lettered routes are suggestions, not your sole options, of course.
>Other things? (Direct support would likely betray your intent upon the installation, and you’ve gotten all the materiel aid you can expect.)
The first one didn't have distance indication, my mistake.

>>4697486
B.

Straight down the gullet. The canal bed is an obvious place to try and advance down, wouldnt be surprised if they mined it.
At only 3km, we should attempt to grab a pair of bino's and study our route of advance from the hill. See if we can spot anything out of position.

>>4697486
I'd say the best way we can use the scouts is to take the canal route with the scouts moving ahead of us to spot for any ambushes or mines to make sure we don't end up caught in a vulnerable position. Plus if they can scout the objective itself from the canal we can know what to expect and what to target as soon as we emerge from it, which maximizes our element of surprise and lets us gather information without needing to take any high ground.

Otherwise I'm not really sure which route would let us make good use of the scouts unless we can delay the attack long enough to have them go down the riverbed themselves, scout the enemy defenses, and come back to us so we can make our final plan, which would be ideal but probably not a luxury we can afford.

>>4697486
Just to check, so 3rd Platoon can't offer us fire support even from their existing positions?

>>4697486
>The canal
Of course they could've mined it, but if they're constantly on the move there's a big possibility that they didn't. And if something happens, we can always switch to route B.
>Ask Von Silbertau why the canal is dry. Are there locks in the enemy territory that can be opened to flood us?

>>4697486
>A
Canal seems like the only real way to have the scouts do recon without us going loud if it can't be done from our starting point.

>>4697684
>Just to check, so 3rd Platoon can't offer us fire support even from their existing positions?
They could, potentially- they just won't be moving from their current defensive positions.

>>4697744
Cool. Anyway, I'd say we go for the canal route then. Hopefully 4th Platoon's attack should draw the armour on the hill to the east to move away while we're concealed by the canal, maybe even the QRF if we're lucky.
3rd can then fix the enemies to our west in place through their own fire support.

>>4697486
B or C
I remember what Anya said about getting caught, we are facing Magnus here, he's not going to omit something unusual like the canal into his defensive plans. And he caught her pretty good on a lone motorcycle. 3 tanks and 2 trucks aren't going to be stealthy.

Getting stopped between those hills would be the end, so it's either a gamble to scoot and shoot too fast to be reacted too or climb the hill and clear out a risk to our approach and escape but take longer and risk the asset escaping.

Also wasn't one of his traits a Raider Leader? We should factor in that he is going to respond quickly to any intrusion.

I also support the idea of a quick look to see local geography or anything amiss.
>>4697563