-----

The founding regions of the Republic of Mittelsosalia had worked itself up into a frenzy of optimistic preemptive drunkenness on the sweet draught of victory, even though the forces that had gone out only increased, and few had returned yet from an ongoing war. All the news that came back was of triumph, validation, no word of great defeat, only of how the northern lords once feared had been beaten into cooperation, and how the Netillian had been driven into flight. No regard was had for the actual proportion that the Republic’s forces made up of the total force, nor for the grievances of the actual Republic trooper who might share different, less confident tales on their return. For now, there was naught but endless hope for the future amongst the common population, who had seen their circumstances turned head over heels since as early as last year.

Such a mood extended even to the recently incorporated Gusseisenholz, to be the new capital of the Republic, though word had gone around of a new city to be constructed, called Freiheidtstadt- no evidence of such beside rumor, but the mood of the Republic that had only seen wins assumed such was true with little hesitation. What couldn’t the Republic do, after all?

A less glad view of the situation was held amongst the highest offices of the Republic’s fledgling government, in the repurposed City Hall of Gusseisenholz, shared with the city’s local authorities.

The Minister of War of Mittelsosalia was far from home- and he missed it so, but there was no going back now. He would be hunted there- and here, he could still fight yet. Even if his brave comrades from Petrekora were all gone, trapped in the last desperate holdouts against the Federation tide, and these new potential allies against Caelus were…not what he thought they would be. Xenakis thought little of the young girl who had found herself in command of an even more youthful nation when he arrived, but he had grown to respect her accomplishments nevertheless. Signy Vang was brave and determined enough…though short of life experience, and she didn’t have an appearance that commanded respect, either. It made the former general concerned- that the people of the Republic of Mittelsosalia would not see what he’d like them to see in a leader in proper power.

Especially not with this stunt she was pulling now, when the Ministers of the Republic were meant to be having a meeting on an operation of great importance, if only a brief one.

While Xenakis had donned the austere uniform of his new nation, the Minister of the People was not dressed in her usual attire for this meeting- as it shared time presently with a photography session- the austerity of the council meeting room was replaced by a set of props and matte paintings made to mimic a beach and stones- and the young lady was dressed for the part in the regional fashion for such. Attire directly inspired by the working “clothes” of sponge and pearl divers consisting of a bandeau top and either briefs or shorts, the latter in this case. The appeal of this normally practical costume was obvious, and the only change made for what this head of state was having pictures of her taken in was the bright red and blue hue. A wrap of cloth bandages was around her lower ribs, still- from a wound she had taken weeks before, that while much better than it had been, had still been left on by the photographer’s insistence. Her gloves also remained on, by her own choice.

Xenakis was bemused by this spectacle, but more annoyed that he had to share a meeting with whatever this was supposed to be. “Pardon me, Miss Vang,” he cleared his throat as the Minister of the People leaned on a false prop stone on an artificed beach, “but do you not think this is untoward of a government official of your status? This should be embarrassing.” He spoke in competent enough New Nauk but still colored by a strange accent unlike one anybody would recognize.

“I am embarrassed, so much that I couldn’t even handle this yesterday,” Vang said with a put upon frown, “This is stupid, but I’m a young woman. I have to use what advantages I have, the embarrassment doesn’t matter at all compared to the good this might do. Some people who won’t hear rhetoric will listen to this instead. Besides,” she touched her bare stomach, “I’ve had to fast for a good week for this. I’ve barely eaten a thing since two mornings past. The bridge is already crossed.”

Xenakis crossed his arms and huffed. “I hope that this is a wise investment.”

“It cost nothing, War Minister,” The Minister of the People said with a sigh.

The photographer gave a thumbs up and a flash came out. “Excellent,” he said with a clap to get his subject’s attention, whose expression became one of surprise. Perhaps that the face she put on was chosen for the last photo. “Now sit on it and lean back, cross a leg over another. Arm up, hand behind your head.”

“It costs much less than weapons and supplies do,” Vang said as she assumed the pose requested, “Less than tanks, medicine, fuel, trucks…The discomfort is a tiny price to pay.”

“You should-“ Xenakis started, but was interrupted.

“Raise your arm higher.”

“Do not interrupt me, you lens peeping degenerate!” Xenakis snapped at the photographer, before looking to Signy, “As I was saying, the Minister of the People, the Cyclops, should consider that she should not be viewed as an object of titillation.”

“Anybody who would think less of me for this already has a low opinion of me just for what I am,” Signy said disinterestedly, “The men appreciate that I’ve been on the battlefield with them. If they don’t appreciate this sort of thing- and I’ve been told they would- then they won’t forget what I’ve shared with them,” She pointed to the thin bandage wrap around her torso, “No revolution takes place without the hearts of the people marching with you as certainly as their boots, as my father said. I trust you with matters of war, General. Trust me on this one. And work with Wossehn better.”

Xenakis snorted at the mention of the rich dandy, but he did have respect for this bold young woman, managing her station, somehow, while a mere twenty years old. Her eyes did not have the uncertainty a woman of her age usually did. Xenakis had heard that the wastes of Sosaldt forged some, hardened them like heat does steel, if they were stout enough of heart.

Though a part of him felt that it was somewhat a tragedy that so young a woman should have those eyes.

A flash of the camera, again. Immediately after, a familiar, grating call.

“Good tidings, every one and all,” the dapper, glittering form of the gaudily garbed Minister of Economy strode confidently into the room, looking like a pile of silver pieces, and he stood next to the general. “Oh, my, Lady Vang, you look stunning, so much for your apprehension, hm?”

The Minister of the People furrowed her brows and looked down, biting her lip, “I don’t want to be flattered in these…clothes. But I appreciate it.”

“The Republic will appreciate you much more, my lady. There is no shame to be had in having confidence in a young and healthy body. War Minister.” He tipped his sparkling silver bowler cap to Xenakis, “You should be more supportive of the leader of our Republic.”

“Humph,” the general opened a folder he had tucked into his jacket, “Finally, we can start.” He whipped a sheaf of paper from the jacket. ”The Third Corps,” Xenakis read off a page, “Has had most of their fighting men complete their training. Yet they are untested. Unready. I appreciate that the Minister of the People has recognized the need for greater mobilization, but I believe it would be more wise to wait for the conflict in the north to end, so that the Second Corps would be used in this coming operation.”

The Second Corps was the official name for the troops that had been secured for use from the armed forces of the new northern territories, whom had not long ago been enemies in war. The First Corps were the initial troops ready to fight at the beginning- and were the most blooded, though practically they and the Second Corps were comparable in skill and equipment. That was not true of the new Third Corps, whose divisions had the numbers but neither experience nor war materiel, being of a second recruitment wave that had missed the fiercest battles, though being people of Sosaldt they were certainly not soft, either.

“We don’t have the time for that,” the Minister of the People said, twisting to the side following the motions of the photographer to show her back, keeping her head turned, “And the Third Corps will have to have their first fight as part of the Army of the Republic at some point. Better this as a first blood than the Northern Lords and Netilland.”

“We don’t have time?” Xenakis repeated, uncertain. He was not a political man, but Wossehn already knew what the girl was talking about. It wouldn’t be repeated- yet.

The photographer and his crew might not have expected to sit in on this meeting. However, they would also not be allowed to stop being guests until their work was ready to print- well after the operation would have begun.
The Minister of the People’s response was quick. “Basically, I need everybody to do their jobs well, and to not be dragging any feet. Speaking of. How many more?”

“Three, though I’ll want multiple takes of each, like before,” the photographer said, “One of you lying down on your front, one more standing and stretching, and one lying on your back off the rock. All of them oughta be…flirty. Elly, go help her get that top adjusted for that, hey?”

“This will only be a moment,” Signy said as one of the assistants came up to shift her bandeau, “Sorry, Wossehn, Xenakis. It sounds like I’ll need to smile for these.” The look in her eyes said what was needed, though- she was finishing this business because she wanted these people gone for what would be next.

So it was done- but the Minister Vang remained perched on the stone even as the photography crew left, the false sun of a prop light still shining down on her as her face fell into a frown, alone with these two men who co-governed the Republic.

“What did you mean,” Xenakis said, “By us not having time? Yes, Caelus will come, but when I refer to haste on that matter…”

“War Emergency Powers,” Wossehn told the foreign general with a waving finger, a mocking motion for a man in such high position to not know laws whose drafts still had wet ink. “Authority bequeathed upon the Minister by the elected representatives of the people, and withdrawn upon cessation of unpleasantries. However, Miss Vang…said representatives have not yet had their elections to properly select them. Do you expect this new operation to take place satisfyingly enough to not foment discontent over the extension of executive powers?”

The Minister of the People flicked her eyes to Wossehn, and her hand clenched, “They’ll have to,” she said, “And I’d rather things be quickened by settlements and groups seeing how they could gain from being part of the Republic, and joining without a fight. Though I know there’s plenty who won’t. I want repeats of Sundersschirm, but without the battle. That still means having force on the table, or else they won’t see that there’s only two choices.”

“That was not the point I desired to have expounded,” Wossehn scratched his nose, “After all, with the addition of new territories, even the coming elections will prove outdated. I agonize that your Republic may outgrow your popularity should your caution not grow sufficiently as well, my lady. Our economic growth cannot be outpaced by the need for conquest, else we neglect this promising young babe, and they would freeze in a night of our own creation. Money does not spring from nowhere, and money gained from conquest alone only brings enemies we can ill afford to have more of.”

“They will not be enemies. They will be members of our nation, doing as well as the rest of us, giving, benefiting. For the sake of the Republic,” the Minister of the People said with dark resolve, “They cannot cling to their independence and keep their wastes as they’ve always had. That way of life is in the past, and they will either join us, or be burned by another. We will be the shield of their liberty whether or not they agree. Xenakis.” She flashed her eyes over, and Xenakis stiffened- one side of his experience told him to glower in contempt, but another made him stand at attention regardless. “Take whatever time you need to plan a quick and decisive action. No amount of force is too great; they will be offered a chance to join with us peacefully, or they will be crushed. The new truth must become apparent, that all of Sosaldt will be Mittelsosalia.”

“Immediately, Miss Vang.” The general from across the ocean saluted and turned around to leave. Machinations would be in place before any knew about it.

Wossehn’s head followed the general out the door, and he didn’t look back to Signy for a minute. “I can’t say that I’m terrifically pleased about this,” he said with an uncharacteristic shortness.

“It’s just how it has to be. I’m tired, Wossehn,” Signy said as she slid off the stone and walked over to the table where her things were, plucking a cigarette from a box and holding a lighter to it while it was stuck in her lip, “I’d like to just join hands and talk everything out forever, if only it weren’t so much simpler to just…” She turned to lean on the table, and Wossehn felt that the photographer would have liked this unintended shot too, as the Minister of the People smoked with one hand on the table, the other holding her cigarette between her fingers, still in the swimsuit with her sweater under an arm, “That was all. I’m fine now. Let me be.”

It was not a command. Yet the lord of Wossehnalia took it like one regardless.

-----

In Strosstadt, Richter Von Tracht had only recently left the place where his Intelligence Office overseer had summoned him. Yet he was barely around the corner by the time his commander’s own superior rounded the same place, though the young officer did not recognize him, despite having seen him before. For he was ever so slightly different from when he had last encountered him- enough to fool the mind into believing it was simply another plainly dressed white hair. This Lieutenant Colonel of the Intelligence Office had no business with Von Tracht- such was the project of his own favored junior.

The Lieutenant Colonel opened the door to the low-level IO safehouse (more a spare guest house than a secured space), and when it was behind him, closed it, all in one smooth motion, his eyes fixed forward. “Major,” he called.

“I am here, sir,” the Major strode forward and saluted, “Was there something that you wanted?”

“I saw the recently promoted Lieutenant come out of here,” the Lieutenant Colonel stood still, a small older man but without frailty of mind or muscle, despite the rapid retreat of all the hair atop his head, which he revealed when he doffed his cap. “Has he turned in his report?”

“Not yet. Gerovic did not bother telling him to finish it before coming here.” The Major sat. She would not look down at the Lieutenant Colonel. “Sir. You were not coming to fetch that, were you?”

“No, I was only curious,” the old man glanced backwards, “Considering his case. His history, his family.”

“Gerovic looked at both of us and laughed at something,” the Major said tersely, “Do you think he suspects…?”

“What would he have to be suspicious of?” the Lieutenant Colonel asked coyly.

“…I suppose it’s not anything that he would consider important.” The Major crossed one leg over the other, and tilted her chair back. “What conditioning could be forced on him might have messed with his head. I didn’t want to follow on it because it might have been something like that. He’s already a deceptive and playful sort. He doesn’t make it easy to tell when he’s taking something seriously, though it’s difficult for him to tell a lie anymore. Not to me.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” the Lieutenant Colonel’s tone went terse. “My actual business here, now. I thought you would like to know the official analysis of your operation and its theoretical conclusions,” He whipped a paper out from his jacket, swished it straight, and read, in an abridged fashion, considering that the document was not written plainly, “Risk of biological attack with facility in hands of prospective victors is low. While deployment mechanisms nor documentation remained intact, the microbe and ready means of production of it were both destroyed, delaying deployment satisfactorily to the parameters of the mission. Prospective victim count, thirty million minimum, possible of two hundred million.” He looked up from the page, “This will never be publicly acknowledged as ever occurring, but I thought that you might appreciate the consequences of your efforts regardless. I’m rather pleased, myself.”

“The analysts love to be dramatic, don’t they,” the Major said flatly, “At this point I’m more concerned about what Willen was trying to hide. What he was trying to do. What he might attempt as retaliation.”

“Thus far, he will attempt nothing,” the Lieutenant Colonel said, resolved as an iron nail in that judgment. “The drama of the analysts served an important purpose, in that Willen was unable to ignore it, or claim that it was unnecessary to act on personal initiative. In exchange for no contradiction of the statement that he allowed our operation himself rather than him being ignorant, we can expect no trouble in the short term. I would remain wary for the future, however. The man has a history of having many plans, and them being quite long term.”

“Plenty of people have long term plans. Most of them don’t work out the way they thought they would.”

“Hopefully that’s the case here. But there’s no reason to not exercise caution.” The older man noticed the half-empty bowl on the table. “Ah. I wasn’t expecting brunch.”

“The adjutant here,” the Major said coolly, “I’m not having any more. You can have it if you want.”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Lieutenant Colonel, with only one hand, took two points of toast and flipped food in between them, making an impromptu bacon and egg sandwich. “The Caelussian acquisition. He is here?”

“No,” the Major flicked a hand towards the door, “He left in a hurry, but I expect it was to the newest set of keys being shaken at him. It’s too much to assume he’s doing anything but entertaining himself.”

“With what?”

“One of Von Tracht’s acquaintances. The Glennzsegler girl.”

“Ah. The sniper’s sister,” the Lieutenant Colonel nodded to himself.

“Her brother decided to make Von Tracht and his sister match for some mad reason, and wounded my best man. As far as Gerovic goes, though, as I said, a harmless distraction for him. He does keep a polite distance if he has not been obligated anything.” The Major gave that last sentence a disdainful edge.

The Lieutenant Colonel ran a hand through his remaining hair, “Ah, yes. Your little game with him. Perhaps you would do well to properly lay down rules, since you played a trick on him by not playing by any. He doesn’t seem the sort to just give up. Best not to misjudge how taut his leash is, as you might say.”

The Major glanced briefly to the window, though it was mostly covered by a curtain. “It isn’t as though I underestimate him. He’s sharp, and able. I just wonder how much of his carefree playfulness is an act and how much of it is just the way he is. If his game is greater than common lechery.”

“Have his Traum checked if you aren’t sure about how forthcoming he is.”

“It was at expected levels. Though…”

“…If his will is strong that means nothing.”

The Major tapped her foot irritably. “Indeed. I won’t waste time putting more observation on him. For now, he’s at least keeping out of my skirts, and trying to get into another’s trousers. I do wonder if tying him down will keep him focused for when I send him west. That he stands out so much will work well for us. Nobody would assume a Caelussian tourist would be a Strossvald spy. A Caelussian spy, yes, but what would they care of such? Hiding in plain sight there will work far better.”

The Lieutenant Colonel searched about for mugs, for tea and coffee, but devoted no more than a few turns of the head. “All work and no play, then,” he eyed the Major, “I presume you see a similar picture as I do in this nation.”

“A picture we’re able to do frustratingly little to change.”

“Directly, yes,” the Lieutenant Colonel admitted without a hint of weakness, “But only a fool fights alone. The wider our own influences, the more we’ll have for the future. Work hard, Major. The Archduchy will have great need of the fruits of our efforts sooner than we might hope.”

The Major saluted again with no hesitation. “Yes, sir. For the good and glory of Strossvald.”

-----

A spring wind through the trees, freshly greening as the snow of winter had given way and the morning frosts became dew once more. Upon this whisper, a fortune teller listened and told of a tale, using the cards of their trade. Each was an aspect of a spirit of humanity, but from a plain wooden card etched with charcoal ink and brushed with bold paints on its raised designs, one could bring forth so much, for anybody who aligned with said spirit’s aspect.

Such was what the Vyemani told, even if those who looked down upon them frowned and shook their heads. Children of all sorts were still fascinated, though, and they took heed as the story on the winds came down to them through this taleteller, though they themselves only heard riddle and metaphor, and themselves made up fiction to fill in where they could not hear…

>A brief aside will be had.

>The Scion, the One Armed Knight
>The Rogue, Made to Wander, yet in birthplace Lingers
>The Vanguard, captured, but yet Uncowed
>The Lord, Newly Named, upon Lonely Land with no mementos but of others

Pastebin for past threads- https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and shitposts is @scheissfunker

On my schedule for drawings is a bunch of girls in swimwear, including remaking two I've done before, and another that'll probably be in-thread but will necessitate a proper color version, probably. Though, as bad as I am about running a quest where you hang out with girls instead of military equipment, I am somewhat curious about how a very short term, perhaps one shot, skirmish would be taken. I shouldn't try and load myself up with more than I already have, but it might be a fun and brief thing to do. There's just the matter of what side or conflict to feature.

>>5285403
>The Lord, Newly Named, upon Lonely Land with no mementos but of others

>>5285403
>The Scion, the One Armed Knight
It's TIME!

>>5285403
>The Scion, the One Armed Knight
I wonder who the Rogue and Vanguard are.

I would be perfectly fine with a short term skirmish.

>>5285403
>The Lord, Newly Named, upon Lonely Land with no mementos but of others

>>5285524
Vanguard is Gerovic, Rogue is Krause I think?

>>5285403
>The Lord, Newly Named, upon Lonely Land with no mementos but of others

>>5285403
>>The Scion, the One Armed Knight

>>5285545
I think the Rogue is Anya.

>>5285597
Ah yeah it's more likely her, wonder how I forgot.

>>5285403
As for skirmish ideas, how about Vynmark versus Twaryi? (either side is fine)

>>5285403
>>The Scion, the One Armed Knight

>>5285408
>>5285545
>>5285566
Owner of a Lonely Land (much better than a)

>>5285427
>>5285524
>>5285597
>>5285847
Owner of a Single Arm

Whose wife is better? Trick question Von Walen is single lmao

Writing.

>>5285708
>how about Vynmark versus Twaryi? (either side is fine)
I've put some thought into how that exact thing would be formatted, actually, so if that's not minded...
Well, you probably won't be on the winning side, but a short skirmish ought to be fought desperately, no?

March 17, 1933- Von Schneeberg Estate

It had been about two and a half weeks since you had gone to Netilland for the Intelligence Office. Gone with Frederick, Von Walen, and others, and according to the IO, accomplished your objectives to a “satisfying” degree. It had been a closer thing than you would have liked. Several times, it felt as though everything could have gone quite wrong…yet most of you had managed to escape. Except for Kelwin. He hadn’t been much an acquaintance of yours, but he was still somebody you had known- and he had perished, in some way, while you were fighting away from where he was.

There wasn’t anything you could have done. It was too bad, still.

The IO had let you go home immediately after the debriefing, which was a blur- aftereffects of the “Glory Draught” that had cleared the fog and shadows from your wits and courage at the end of the battle. You hadn’t gone back to your actual home, but your home away from home. The countryside manor of Von Schneeberg, where your father in law and wife resided. Going back to your blood family after the ordeal…was unthinkable. You still remembered little about them, and rather than rediscover further hatred, you had a future to mind after. Even if it was one you and Klaudia had been forced into.

Klaudia could tell that you were tired. Strained. She did not turn out to be the sort to ignore that, even if you anticipated that she would keep her former distance. Ever since you’d come back, she had let you sleep in the same bed as her, readily. You slept in late beside her, felt inclinations from memories unknown to try and show affection to her. To put your arm around her, to stroke her hair, but your heart was not in the deed. It wasn’t that Klaudia was too homely- you simply…did not love her. She was as uncertain of her closeness to you as you were to her, you could tell.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You read alongside her, spoke to her, and expected no verbal response- and received none, as usual. You massaged her neck, her shoulders, as she pored over books for potentially the dozenth time. Massaged her feet and ankles- and found that she seemed to like that very much. Kissed her goodnight, but in the light manner that felt like it was to a younger sibling rather than a spouse. She did not resist you- when you did kiss her on the lips, she held herself up and did not pull away. When you embraced, she returned it, and she did approach on her own to sit on your lap or in the crook of an arm- she put her hand on your chest, your arms, disrobed in your sight when she changed clothing, but you could not shake a feeling of pity to it rather than desire.

Trying to brew up some marital lust for her wasn’t something you’d considered yet- because it wasn’t something that occurred naturally. Maybe some stubborn will to defy your family, to spite them for making you their instrument in this.

Yet at what point were you spiting Klaudia by accident, doing this?

For a good two weeks, you had relaxed. Acclimated. Yet you still felt static. There was no progress in anything, especially not towards making your mind feel any more whole. It felt as though you had become more certain, more brave after that mission- but valiance and feelings of it still fled far too readily. Inaudible whispers haunted you when there was quiet, and the darkness held a feeling of being full of monsters.

Something had to change. You had to find yourself going forth, somewhere, once more.

>Maybe you had to bite the bullet on your intimacy with your wife. She was hesitant to move forward- maybe because you were, yourself. You were both in bed- do something when you lingered awake beside one another, late in the morning. (?)
>Staying at this estate was stasis. You had to find some adventure. Some danger. Something to restore yourself- you didn’t have very far to go, you were sure of it…but you could not find what you needed here.
>Find a new mystery. Compel yourself to discover something, to solve it- there was plenty that demanded that you investigate it…and perhaps solve it. (What mystery to look into?)
>Other?

>>5286159
>Maybe you had to bite the bullet on your intimacy with your wife. She was hesitant to move forward- maybe because you were, yourself. You were both in bed- do something when you lingered awake beside one another, late in the morning. (?)
Have an honest talk about it first, try to establish both sides' feelings/position

>>5286159
How much of Rondo's (mis)adventuring with the IO is Klaudia aware of? Has he told her about his myriad encounters with the mythical, since the train hijacking?

>>5286159
>Maybe you had to bite the bullet on your intimacy with your wife. She was hesitant to move forward- maybe because you were, yourself. You were both in bed- do something when you lingered awake beside one another, late in the morning.
Poor Rondo.
He seems affectionate enough and as it was said, it's not like Klaudia is ugly.
Maybe >>5286191 has the right of it, and Rondo just needs to be honest. Not about not loving her, but just talk about the things holding him back and ask if there's anything she'd want from Rondo in particular.
Given the circumstances, she seems ready for duty, but you’d hope something like this would exist outside of simple duty and mild appreciation.
Also, get a nice squeeze of her ass while talking to her. Maybe that'll get both of them in the mood.
Works for Von Tracht anyway.

>>5286159
Side note.
>It wasn’t for lack of trying. You read alongside her, spoke to her, and expected no verbal response- and received none, as usual.
I'd think it's safe to imagine he gets some sorta response though, given how much she's warmed up, at least physically?
I'm thinking head nods and gesturing at the very least as opposed to how things were when he had first got there.

>>5286198
>How much of Rondo's (mis)adventuring with the IO is Klaudia aware of?
Extremely little- practically only this last escapade, and the bare minimum of details on that he was wanted for something. As (nominally) a central interior security organization, many people are a bit skittish of needlessly attracting attention or pointing out their existence, like they're the boogieman. Unless they're conspiracy mongers. Like Von Metzeler is, sort of.
>Has he told her about his myriad encounters with the mythical, since the train hijacking?
He has not.

If you'd like to change this I can put it up for vote sooner or later.

>>5286159
I'll support >>5286191 >>5286232
>>5286443
>If you'd like to change this I can put it up for vote sooner or later.
I would be in favour of letting her in on the encounters with the more benign things (if you can really say witnessing a living stone the size of a barn devour a truck upon a mountain that seemingly defies time or casually watching the flights of gravity defying sky serpents every night "benign"). Since she does have a vested interest in learning about such, bringing up Rondo's experiences seems like a good means to try stimulating her into expressing herself.
Though, definitely, I think we should to leave out any and all details of virgin blood reanimating severed limbs/sensitive intelligence office work, etc. for another time and place that isn't lazy morning bed lounging. Leave that a good while.

>>5286191
>>5286232
>>5286583
You're part of a pair now. Make it real.

Writing.

You lay in bed with Klaudia- both of you in loose pajamas, despite it being late in the morning. Klaudia did not wake up and go to bed at so erratic a time as had once been the normal, now that you were around, but she certainly stayed up late and woke up later. Which meant you’d be waiting, before you…spoke about this.

Not that you minded. Klaudia’s bedroom was a comforting place, even if it wasn’t a place that was as inhabited as her place in the manorial library. Though it shouldn’t have been a comforting place for you, considering that it hadn’t changed much in decades. Vintage stuffed animals were propped on shelves more akin to a museum display than a place a young girl would have them for play. What made it relaxing was that there was not even a hint of a threat here, the whole place had a softness just like the bedsheets, though the bead and button eyes all about made you certain that you’d want the lights off before doing anything intimate. Or perhaps changing venues altogether.

When you turned to look at Klaudia, you were surprised to see her looking back, eyes open- without the sleepiness of a recent awakening.

“Oh. You are awake.” You said, pausing for a response before remembering that there would be none. “Have you been awake long?” Conversing with Klaudia, if it could be called that, practically required questions with yes or no answers. In this case, the answer was a slow turn of the head, no. “Hm.” You turned your own head back to the ceiling, decorated with a painted facsimile of a sky turning from night to day, clouds going from blue to purple to white. “If you do not mind, I would like to remain here for some time longer. There are…things I would like to discuss, and not over a table, or with any audience of servants."

Klaudia stared into your eyes, a small frown on her face.

“I feel as though I am not being a good husband to you,” you laid out bare, “That I am not treating you like my wife. I feel compelled to keep my distance, but I also do not think I should. I am hesitant to…do anything more than we have already. Do you feel the same way? I could not bear to impose upon you.”

To impose was something you did without intending to, with how tall and broad you were, especially compared to Klaudia. The relationship of your families and the circumstances of your marriage only added atop of that. Yet Klaudia’s answer was to reach out to your hand, resting on your chest, and to brush her fingers across the ring upon it.

It was a simple answer. There was no taking anything back at this point.

“More,” you went on, continuing to try and pierce that false sky above you with your eyes, “I am so uncertain about this. In a way that I know I should not be. I feel as if I am half a man. You do not deserve that. It is a matter of my spirit, not that I only have one arm.” After all…you had endured a few battles now, with only one arm. You were weaker, but by no means weak. Save for, seemingly, now, with somebody who needed you to be otherwise. After all…there was more to this than being a guard dog. Part of you knew that, had learned a hard lesson, at some forgotten time.

Klaudia didn’t have anything to say to that. As per usual. Yet you felt her climb on top of you and lay her head against your neck. “…I don’t know you well,” she said in a thin and hesitant voice, like a broken ornament scraped against glass. She said nothing further, but the implication was there nevertheless. As she’d said before- she did have trust and faith in you. She curled an arm around your shortened limb- the young household heir was hardly blind, by choice or not.

Your hand touched her low on the back- then, without you knowing particularly why, it shifted lower, over the substantial rise of her soft bottom. Yet there was nothing telling you to grip it forcefully, or anything of that sort. It just…didn’t work.

Klaudia must have noticed the discontent you felt- she pushed herself up, and pointed a finger to your chest, then swept it down, before getting up from the bed. Stay here-, the implied request, as she left the bedroom…and you alone with the judgmental stares of vintage toys possibly older than either of you.

Some time passed, but Klaudia did return…with company. You weren’t expecting that.

“Oh, no!” the maid, a friend of Klaudia’s called Tina, hid her face in one hand, the other carrying a small box with a ribbon. She wore the dress of her occupation, but her apron was not dirtied by chores yet. “She’s finally succumbed to the wiles of this infamous sex criminal! Lady Klaudia has no hope left!”

…You did not want any sort of counsel on relationship like this. Klaudia herself leaned over and whispered into her blonde maid’s ear, and she was responded to with a seemingly terse and short whisper back- despite the inappropriate tone of the response, Klaudia seemed to accept it.

“Although,” Tina sidled up next to the bed and sat down next to where you were lying, a mischievous look meeting your confusion, “You’re not dressed much like what Strossvald’s most infamous lady killer ought to look like…Maybe you’re hiding a weak point!” She dashed for the buttons of your pajama shirt and unclasped them while you held yourself back from instinctively lashing out to defend yourself. She worked quickly, and spread your shirt out from your torso as you closed your eyes in defiance of what surely must have been some sort of plan.

“Ahhh, hee hee hee!” Tina covered her face again and shook her head, “I can’t even look for a moment, or I’ll be bewitched!” She opened the box she had carried in, “Lady Klaudia, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? I don’t think you should eat these checker-chocolates so early in the morning, but…” She took a square piece of candy out, split into four light and dark pieces, each quadrant dotted with a shirl of some sort of cream…and she set a pair on your chest and abdomen. “I wish I could be so brazen with sweets, Klaudia, but I can’t trust myself around them. The sugar just makes me too energetic, and it all goes right to my stomach.”

Klaudia came up beside, and you noticed her gaze did linger on you…not that you were a vain sort, but you could say that you were well muscled, and only ate as much as you needed to. Admiring yourself in the mirror was beneath you, of course, unless it was to practice your blade.

You couldn’t help but notice that the warmth of your body was melting the chocolate on you, though. Part of you had realized earlier where this was going, but you had played dumb. Partly because you hadn’t been sure of the intent- the other so that another could learn. Yet you hadn’t quite expected what happened next.

Tina looked down at you, then your stomach, then suddenly snapped her head down and ran her tongue over you, licking the half-melted chocolate off of you. Electricity sparked down your back, and you choked in surprise, and Tina was able to steal the candy without interference, before she flailed back and collapsed on her back at the end of the bed.

“Ohh, I’ve been corrupted! Klaudia, your sex criminal husband, I’m helpless before him, he could despoil me as easy as plucking the petals from a lily! I can’t do this alone…”

This was ridiculous.

Klaudia nervously put herself over you next, and did as was demonstrated before- she ran her tongue across your chest, and when she rose with the chocolate taken off of you, her face was as red as a rose.

“Have mercy, my lord,” Tina gasped dramatically, “Perhaps you have not bested my lady yet- won’t you give consideration to the saint of honor, and surrender your advantage? Klaudia is so weak to sweets, surely you have something for Klaudia to level this terribly uneven playing field…the Judge will not look kindly upon dishonorable fighters!”

Klaudia’s face was holding some regret now. Perhaps she hadn’t quite expected this level of…theater.

>…You appreciated the thought, but this really wasn’t going to work now. Excuse yourself before you’re further used as a platter.
>A surrender of advantage? As in, what did you like, that Klaudia could put on, or do? Hmm… (?)
>Other?

>>5287505
>A surrender of advantage? As in, what did you like, that Klaudia could put on, or do? Hmm… (Glasses)
Rondo loves glasses girls, this is a known fact.
Though that aside, before this...lewdness, I feel like Rondo and Klaudia were onto something. About actually getting to know eachother.
Maybe we can flip this on it's head? There's sexy versions of twenty questions right? Rondo can do that. Tina can stay if she wants, but only because she seems to make Klaudia more comfortable and I genuinely want to know what her deal is. Goofy little blonde is mysterious.

>>5287505
I genuinely have no idea what to vote for lmao

>>5287533
Yeah, this is crazy, but look at it like this.
We can't have Rondo walk away from this. Avoidance is stagnation and stagnation is further mental anguish.
At the very least, Rondo needs to make his love for glasses wearing girls clear to "Yes, And" the situation, to play along.
That said, as I've said, beyond the lewdness, this is a great opportunity for everyone involved to learn a lot about each other and maybe even themselves.
Just need to play the cards right.

>>5287522
+1
Obviously walking away should be avoided here, I just don't know what exactly we could do. It got a lot more awkward when Tina came in.

In terms of "evening the playing field", it would probably need to involve something that Rondo likes as well, which I'm drawing a blank on. Maybe tanq can just sub in something Rondo likes here, but in the absence of anything else, "Glasses Girl" is certainly better than nothing.

>>5287505
>Other?
SPREAD YOUR ARMS WIDE AND THROW YOUR HEAD BACK!
ROAR! LIKE A MAJESTIC, MIGHTY LION!

"NO QUARTER SHALL BE GIVEN!"

Throw Klaudia on the bed, jump on her, and start tearing off her clothes.
Then put glasses on her and start going to town.

>>5287541
>>5287577
The 20 Questions thing is another good idea if this one doesn't work out, or perhaps just for another time, but might not be appropriate while we're on the topic of getting each other in the mood with Tina's method.

>>5287505
Tina is an absolute madwoman, but I have faith in her. Playing off the twenty questions idea I think a game of truth or dare would be a good balance. This way Klaudia will have to choose between us getting to know her better or doing naughty things. The idea also sort of plays into von Metzeler's character since he has a dueling background, so maybe he has a passion for high-stakes games in general, including sexy ones? And naturally Tina should be included in the game so she can continue to help to orchestrate things.

>>5287505
>>5287522
>>5287616
Great idea!
Can't remember if Rondo has any love of gambling or high stakes games, but he IS an amateur detective with an inquisitive mind at heart.
Mixing sexy times with glasses wearing girls and a lust for discovery prompted by the game seems like the perfect combo to get him going!

>>5287616
>>5287637
Yes, it's a good idea, but it's not what this prompt is about. We are already in a situation where we were given an "advantage" romantically, and have to think of some way to give it back. Changing the subject entirely and going into some 20 Questions thing would just be cowardly and cheap. Yes, it's a good idea in isolation to do the game, but the context matters here.

>>5287643
>We are already in a situation where we were given an "advantage" romantically and have to think of some way to give it back
I already said to put the girls in glasses.
You seem to underestimate how much Rondo likes them, it's mentioned constantly.

Besides, I'm just making suggestions for next steps, not saying to stop everything and do something else. Surely if this whole thing is about getting Rondo going, they will both be happy with him taking the lead once he's begun playing along.

>>5287652
I'm fine with the glasses idea, it's just that the recent discussion looks like people *just* want to do the 20 Questions thing without giving a chance to "give the advantage back", which is a bad move.

>>5287668
I'm sure Tanq understands what we're getting at, but you're right.
One thing at a time.

>>5287668
Yeah I'm fine with doing the glasses thing first, I was sort of assuming it wouldn't be enough on its own since it doesn't sound like much by itself but if it really does it for von Metzeler then all the better.

Not calling yet because I have once again misallocated my time in actually writing. Though I suppose in the meantime til I come back and hopefully get something done before I fall asleep tonight-

>>5287577
>it would probably need to involve something that Rondo likes as well, which I'm drawing a blank on. Maybe tanq can just sub in something Rondo likes here, but in the absence of anything else, "Glasses Girl" is certainly better than nothing.
Glasses are certainly one thing.
Other things can be written in. Dealer's choice and all that. So long as it's justifiable, of course...

As for high-stakes truth or dare, while yes, it won't be the only thing, I'd appreciate a few ahead of time sample questions, if you'd like to give them. Makes things easier to write down the line and all that, especially with my present pace.

>>5287967
>As for high-stakes truth or dare, while yes, it won't be the only thing, I'd appreciate a few ahead of time sample questions, if you'd like to give them
Good idea.

Let's see....
For Klaudia
>What is your favorite story?
>How did you get so good at typing?
>Ever write any story for yourself? (basically, ask if she's a writer if that question hasn't been answered)
>Do you have any interest in music? What type?
>We know she likes deserts, but what is her favorite type of sweet?

For Tina
>How did she and Klaudia become so close?
>Is she actually of noble birth?
>Has she done lewd things like this before?
>Why did she become a servant instead of anything else?
>Ever think about getting married?

For both
>What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?
>Who is someone you hate, and why?
>What do you think is your own most attractive feature?
>What's something you're glad your father doesn't know about you?
>Have you ever seen a ghost or spirit?
>What's the naughtiest thing you've ever done?
>What's the naughtiest thing you've ever heard about?
>What's your biggest turn-on?
and most importantly
>Tea or Coffee?

>>5288058
More questions because I'm bored.
Though I must say, now that I'm thinking about these questions more, I'm realizing that between Klaudia's seeming lack of experiences with...anything and Rondo forgetting most of his life, we'll probably get a few duds before anything fun or useful is shared.
Still think this'll be a good time though, and who knows, we'll still probably learn a ton.
Anyway.

For either
>What is your dream romantic getaway?
>Ever been drunk before?
>Tell me about your most memorable crush.
>Give one of your embarrassing habits.
>What's your childhood dream?
>Ever read any erotic fiction?
>Ever write any erotic fiction? Assuming Klaudia didn't already say she didn't do any writing in her spare time. Could always just ask Tina if that's the case.
>What is your most memorable experience outside the house?
>How many kids do you want?
>Where is somewhere on your body you've never been kissed? Proceed to kiss that spot if Rondo is up for it
>If you had to pick a place outside to have sex, where and why?
>If there was one thing you could change about yourself, what would it be?
>Spill a secret. Doesn't have to be your own secret or anyone's in the room. No context is needed. Just tell a secret you were not to tell anyone.
>What would you do if I gave your bum a squeeze in public? The ghost of ButtGrabber still haunts this place

Man, it'll be nice to see Rondo work up the nerve to actually ask some of these. We know secondhand that he isn't always brooding and serious, and can even be quite the trouble maker, but I don't think we've ever really seen it yet.
I'm excited to see if today is the day we finally see our boy cut loose!

>>5287967
Btw, should we be thinking of potential dares too? Or do you have that covered?

Last night was tiring enough to put me to sleep right after. Let's get back on this now.

>>5287522
>>5287577
>>5287616
Get the glasses on. Get a game going.

>>5287581
I AM THE LION

Writing.

>>5288058
>>5288088
I'll definitely have to put a bit of restraint on some of these, of course. Von Metzeler does have a sense of decorum about him, after all.
>Btw, should we be thinking of potential dares too? Or do you have that covered?
If you like, certainly. As before though, there are...lines.

>>5288493
>If you like, certainly. As before though, there are...lines.
Hmmm, in that case, I'll let you figure out what type of dares our boy would come up with.

A surrender of advantage, she said..? There was a message hidden in the childish role-play. Klaudia didn’t know you well, by her admission- and she struggled to think of ways to entice you. So speak up, the room pleaded.

Well. You were more fond of women’s character than their appearance, but there was one thing you certainly liked. Glasses. Spectacles. They framed the eyes so nicely, gave a scholarly appearance. If there was any sort of lady you preferred, it was most certainly not a brainless one. Grace, intelligence, but with the gentleness of a proper girl. Somebody like __________.

Who?

“Glasses,” you said slowly, looking at Klaudia’s uncertain face and trying to imagine it, “Klaudia, you do not wear reading glasses, do you?”

Klaudia frowned, and looked over to Tina for help.

“Huh? Glasses? Tina sat up and squinted at you…and you noticed something. A telltale mark on the bridge of the maid’s nose. “…Hey, Klaudia, come over here a second.” She switched readily from referring to her superior with proper manner, and casually. After she got up, both women turned their backs to you and left the room, for a few minutes. It wasn’t long before they had returned- and Klaudia had been newly gifted with a set of spectacles…and a slip that bared the shoulders rather than the other pajamas. It was also a color that would…need to be removed, you noted, from somewhere. Tina thrust her arms out like a stage master, “She does now!”

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Your wife had nothing wrong with her vision, you already knew, but it was a definite improvement in her appearance. Though the lenses had also been taken out, that was an acceptable compromise. Not enough for you to jump on her and abduct her like some barbarian of eld, but then, you couldn’t think of anybody that might make you act like that. This was good enough. Though the mood was off. Especially with the maid still in the room. Klaudia was as uncomfortable as before, and the whole point of any of this was to avoid that.
The glasses were recognized with a beckoning to Klaudia- when she came closer, you wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her onto your lap.

“You are now my prisoner,” you declared to her as you squeezed her around the middle, “And you will answer my questions, or suffer the consequences.”

“Oh, no!” Tina cried, “What are you going to do to her, you villain?”

You actually didn’t know yet. Perhaps rather hoping you wouldn’t be doing anything. “That is a secret. Just know that silence will avail you naught.” You gave Klaudia a look- thankfully there was no panic, or discomfort, only curiosity. A small blush around the cheeks- those glasses really did complete her.

A sudden realization- Klaudia did not speak readily. Had you made a mistake?...No, Tina was still here. You’d permit her to stay, while this was still horseplay. She at least made Klaudia more comfortable, but the same couldn’t be said for her effect on you.

“Ohh, do your worst, then, my lady is strong..!” Tina fell on the bed and wriggled.

“But are you?” You challenged, rather wishing for another hand to point a finger with. “Because you are a hostage yourself, now. Your interrogation begins now, too. Firstly,” you pondered a question, and wondered how best to balance what was casual and what was saucy. Klaudia’s weight on your lap would eventually do something. “How did the two of you find one another? A servant and a noble, friends? You are a suspicious maid. Are you truly a servant after all?” Partly role play. Partly inquisitiveness.

“We’ve known each other for years,” Tina said, “We-“

“Hold,” you declared, “Deception. You said you haven’t been here very long.”

“That was,” Tina’s eyes flashed and she smirked, “A lie!” So it was..? “I’m not nobility. I’m a servant because Klaudia needs somebody around her age to help her out! Though I’m not much into reading.”

Was that another lie, though? “Fine. Do you make a habit of attacking unsuspecting men with your mouth?”

“Only ones that threaten lady Klaudia,” Tina gave a toothy smile, the sort that Von Tracht’s irritating retinue also liked to give when trying her best to be a pest.

You wouldn’t ask how many times that might have been. It seemed half a joke anyways. “Klaudia,” you addressed your wife, “I know you read, but do you write? Not research, but stories.” Klaudia was a prolific student of Vinstragan Folklore, you knew- but you only had heard of such, she hadn’t properly told. Especially since you were lucky to get enough words out of her in a day to not count on one hand.

Klaudia shook her head slowly in response. It didn’t tell you much.

“Alright then. Tea, or coffee?” A banal question, but you needed to buy time.

“Hold on, you can’t ask all the questions, that’s not fair,” Tina whined, “But, coffee. Klaudia likes coffee better, too.”

“As do I.” Coffee was a controversial subject in these lands. However, you were of common blood and were never allowed to forget it. Why be ashamed of what you liked if people would assume you drank it anyways? “Klaudia. What is your favorite story? You’ve read plenty, after all.”

“…The Witch of Winter,” Klaudia said in a thin voice. That wasn’t one you were familiar with. Klaudia didn’t explain further, though.

“Does that have a lewd ending?” Steering things back on course. You hardly wanted to be boring.

“…It could…”

“Then,” you went on, “What is…” you held dramatically, “Your biggest turn-on?”

Klaudia said nothing, her head didn’t move, she only stared sideways.

“Oh, no, lady Klaudia, you must answer!” Tina protested, “Or else you’ll be punished!”

Yet Klaudia still looked, tilting her chin down. Not so subtly daring. Do something, she seemed to be saying with that look- she wanted to know what you would do…

>?

>>5288992
Oh, this is really fucking cute. A slight hint of what's underneath is a great touch.

>>5288993
Slip a hand under her gown to tug on a nipple and give her neck some rough little nibbles.
Don't worry Rondo, our collective autism will get you through this!

>>5289007
This is becoming uncomfortable while Tina is still here. At what point do we ask her to leave?

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>>5288993
Nibble her on ear and say you'll work your way down the more she resists.

>>5288992
tanq, I noticed you tend to round out the faces of the female characters. Would you mind framing and squaring them out every once in a while? Thanks again for the effort you put in.

>>5289010
Any point you'd want I'd assume.
I'm letting her stick around because I assume she's up to something and will leave on her own when things get more exciting.

>>5289023
+1, I like this idea

>>5289031
I mean, she's been present for some pretty "exciting" things already, I'm not entirely sure she would even leave for the main act.

>>5289010
I don't know, it sounds pretty rude to ask her to leave after all the help she's given us. Maybe we should ask her to join in instead.

>>5288993
Ear nibble then gentle grope if the nibble doesn't surprise her.

Do you think she's magically communicating with Tina? Goddamn wizards.

>>5289007
>>5289023
>>5289057
>>5289295
Bite her. Don't let having only one hand hold you back.
These aren't all the same but they do have a sense of progression, so I'll work around that.

Writing.

>>5289023
I appreciate the feedback- I'll try and notice that more and adjust. There's certain characters that are meant to have round faces, but it's probably not good to be doing that as a default.

Punishment it was, then- though Klaudia was clearly asking for it. Daring of her, you thought, when she couldn’t have known what you were planning.

Though she could have been counting on you starting gently, which, you were. You took your arm from around her waist and pulled back her messy hair with it, and bit on the lobe of her ear. Klaudia’s back stiffened against you, then she relaxed.

“The more you resist,” you whispered as you blew in her ear, “The further I will go down your body.”

A pause. “Ah…I…” Klaudia spoke again, “When you were fighting your brother…” That made you pause yourself, and she added, “O-or, when you rub my neck…”

The former couldn’t be arranged right here, but the latter could. “For changing your answer,” you moved down and closed your mouth around her neck, between her throat and collarbone. A glance back up at Tina- you were hoping she intended to leave on her own, not having the heart to demand it. Though you’d rather not have an audience in this…or to risk another unpredictably brazen act, such as perhaps joining in. Your father might have shamelessly kept a mistress, but you had hardly even been married now.

“Klaudia,” you said next, “Do you ever read anything that is dirty in nature?” You allowed her little time to be silent- you were on a roll, here. You slipped your hand into her shift, and moved it over her breast. No underwear…whose idea was that? No matter. You cupped her breast in a hand and squeezed softly. A small gasp from Klaudia, and her shoulders tensed again.

“…Do your worst…” she said, and you saw her wave a finger at Tina. The maid, to your relief, got up, bowed, and left. The door clicked behind her.

So that was the way it was. You turned Klaudia around and pushed her down to the bed, and undid the strings of her slip from around her neck with a deft pull, before tugging it down further. Your kisses went to her breasts, and you felt her struggling not to cry out as your hand went around her again. No further confessions were forthcoming- and you did not stop, as her sole clothing was shifted further and further down, until you pulled it away from her entirely, and all Klaudia had upon her were those glasses.

Your hand went to the dark brambles between her legs, and though you had no memory of doing this before, something else did, and that lost memory knew what to do, until the time was right, and you gave Klaudia’s bespectacled face another look, saw the blush in her cheeks- one arm across her breasts, but the other touching your arm, then your shoulder, then your back. She was clammy and pale with sweat- but you were only getting started.

You did your best to be as gentle as possible.

-----

Klaudia lay in your loose grasp, her heart slowly calming and her breaths deepening, as she held herself against you. It had been difficult- but the motions were natural, learned, even if Klaudia had been a maiden, you clearly had not been yourself. The final moments, you had laid atop of her as she laid on her front, curling an arm around her head and kissing her, feeling her give in, doing your best to try and surrender as well, even if it was a struggle to hurry such a thing.

So it was done. Your seed was spilled in Klaudia, and come what may, none could say that you were not husband and wife.

Yet you felt melancholic. How long before Klaudia conceived? How long until some sort of duty called you again? You’d asked the IO to leave you be, but you still felt the pull, the call back to the battles, to the comrades. When your children came, would that change? You sat up, and Klaudia stirred as well- a hand touched your back.

“I am alright,” you told Klaudia, “I am merely…thinking.”

“On your back…” Klaudia said, “I’ve only seen you from the front…this is a tattoo..?”

A tattoo? You didn’t recall having one, but then…you didn’t remember anything. “What is it a tattoo of?”

“It’s all over your back…” Klaudia sat up and traced her fingers over the cords of your shoulders, your spine, “It’s…a demon. A masked devil of judgment. Miters of punishment to the sinful banished to hell…and in some stories, outside of it…”

“I don’t remember getting it.”

“…You don’t…” Klaudia repeated, “This would take some time to be painted upon you…” She put her hand under your arm and gently pulled you back. In one motion, you wrapped an arm around her and laid back, with her in the crook of your arm, nestled against your chest. Her nakedness pushed against you, her breath cooling your sweat. “Why do you think you got it..? I…love it…”

You couldn’t be sure, but you could guess. Frederick had told you that you’d been a star in underground saber dueling. That your pride there was never having sustained a saber cut, lacking any scars. Baring yourself might have been a natural way to display such a boast. Tattoos were unusual in Strossvald, as far as you knew, but some saber duelists took inspiration from foreign practices. That, and there was plenty of time of you being more young and foolish in general to get one…

>?

>>5289807
Well, if we don't know, we don't know. Might as well share our thoughts. Just tell her we think it has something to do with when we were dueling. No need to hide anything from her. She seems to be a fan anyways.

>>5289807
>?
It's not the dueling but for pursuit of justice. Tell her about the detective work in the UGZs Do NOT mention the Soulbinder. Although knowing her mind powers we may inevitably give it up anyway. and the constant quest to act chivalrously as opposed to the dubious Von Metzeler family history he is trying to escape.

>>5289807
Seconding this one >>5289972
Though it probably was because of the dueling.

>>5289972
+1
Make a note to ask Frederick afterwards when we see him again

>>5289872
It was some sort of duelist showmanship. Though you're not that sure.

>>5289972
>>5290102
>>5290153
A symbol for the pursuit of Justice. A constant quest to defy your origins, and prove yourself worthy of your nobility. Speak of what pursuits you can remember.

Even if it's probably dueling.

Writing.

The truth of it very well could have been mundane. A young and brash man seeking to prove himself in the field of illegal battles, to win glory he couldn’t quite reach otherwise, made a loud statement in body art to help gain fame, and paint an image. Where was the romance in that alone, though? Your wife was somebody who admired the grander stories underneath the normalcy. You could come up with a better deduction than the plain one.

She practically demanded it.

“Once, I fought in underground saber dueling rings. Contests of blood. Not of death, but of brutality nevertheless. I would have gotten this during those days, but I cannot remember exactly when. As for why. My family is a band of criminals, of liars and thieves. Even if my memory of those days is poor, I do know that, as far back as I can remember, I have wanted to defy them. To be chivalrous, as a knight, a warrior of justice. Perhaps holy justice. So, a Judgment Devil. I descend into hell to punish the wicked.”

“…You have gone there before?”

“In a way,” you said, recounting your past, “Where I was last, there were wretched places called Ubergangszentrum. Places where the conquered Ellowians were moved from particular lands, to be transferred elsewhere, in time. In the meanwhile, they suffered in destitution. Such places sprouted with crime. I ventured into these places under darkness still, to keep them from eating one another alive in their desperation. It was all I could do for them, then. The political reality then was that I was meant to cooperate with the conquerors, not the unjustly displaced. Even then…a graceless victor is no champion at all. Wherever I am, I feel I have to continue to defy my bloodline.”

Klaudia touched your back again, ran her hands over it, then pressed herself into you. “…You will be going back to hell, then…”

You didn’t answer that right away. Even though you knew the answer, had considered it. Couldn’t stop thinking of it.

-----

You are Richter Von Tracht- and you had a meeting to attend to, if there was to be any hope of you finding your family blade within so little a timeframe as within the week.
The rest of the time with your family that morning after your meeting with the Major (if Hilda could be considered extended family, for how readily your mother took to her) had been pleasant and peaceful, and though you were satisfied when you left, you still awaited your next visit as you stepped onto a Capital Omnibus-for transit from one part of the sprawling capital region to the other.

Von Walen’s new household was within the Capital territory, though in an underdeveloped portion of it. Underdeveloped for the Capital, rather- there was at least a paved road, though the settlements were more and more sparse. There would still be more traveling to do even after the last stop at a town described by the driver as “sleepy” but when you left, it was still a large enough that the tallest buildings were four stories tall, and there were quite a few of those. Apparently because this was the hub for a relatively rural area.

Asking after a “Von Walen” got you few answers at the city hall, but you were informed that the address you had was for the newly dubbed “Von Graumorgen,” who had been bestowed the title, as the former owners of the land had been made to sell it to the Archducal State a generation past, whereupon it had fallen into neglect, the few little villages on the adjacent plots paying their tax to the state rather than any lord. Not an ideal situation- most lords, to gain favor with their subjects, often took some of the individual burden of taxation off of the commoners from their own coffers. Either that or territorial law slashed taxes on citizens who could claim they paid to their local liege. The exact details were foggy and never of great importance to you.
Well, you’d still be calling him Von Walen. Or Teobaldt. The new name sounded rather too pretentious to be appropriate for the man you were familiar with.

The Von Graumorgen estate, when you reached it in the late afternoon, was a dreary looking place surrounding a small three story mansion, though the home itself had evidently had some quick work done to it so that it wasn’t as unkempt as the brush around it, the knotted forest growth and thorns creeping in and over abandoned sheds and stone fences, as the forest moved rapidly to reclaim what had been cleared out once. The mansion was of an older style, with sturdy brick and stonework at its bottom- a fortified house, though clearly not a castle from its upper portion’s finishings. Pre-Imperial, perhaps?

There was a trio of cars parked in a cleared out space in front of the mansion- one of them a heavier sort of van, which must have been the car of workers set to clear away the foliage further, and another that perhaps was serving staff to clean the interior. Who could have said what state this place might have been in when it was initially given over, after all.

Yet when you knocked on the door, it was no servant who answered, but Von Walen himself, looking weary and disheveled.

“…Oh. Von Tracht,” he said, brushing himself off. “Ah. Hey.”

“Hello Von Walen,” you said, “So this is your new holding?”

“Von Graumorgen,” Von Walen corrected with a strained choke, “Er, yes, it’s not much, but-“

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. Plenty of forest.”

“Oh, then,” Von Walen changed his tack as he straightened his shoulders with some small pride, “Yes, it’s got that country appeal to it, doesn’t it? Five hundred and fifty acres of woodland, not counting the three villages in the fief, one hundred and ten peasants between them. There’s a shit ton of work to be done, but it’s officially mine, and I don’t even have to pay anything for it until I have defined gains. Honestly, it’s the least I deserve.” He ran a hand over his hair to straighten it back again, “Guess you didn’t come here to see the sight, though.” A new wariness in his voice. What did he suspect? Was he thinking you’d drag him back along on another adventure? Eventually, yes, but for now…

“I actually need your help,” you said, “And I believe you owe me a favor. You see, I’m looking for something. A historically important artifact.”

“…Go on..?” Von Walen’s face was growing paler.

“My family sword. It was sold by my grandfather a long time ago, to people who wouldn’t have known its worth, what with it being rather plain in appearance. I’d very much like to get it back, and I know of nobody else besides you that could help me with finding this antique.” You tried to be earnest with your next appeal, “I would truly appreciate any assistance you could give me. My father has searched himself, on and off, for years, but with little avail.”

“Your sword, your sword…” Von Walen repeated, “You said it looked plain? Like…a Netillian Light Cavalry saber? Curved?”

“That’s it,” you nodded. There was no way it’d be this easy. “How did you know? Have you heard of it?”

Von Walen squinted and frowned. “I know something of history. Your family was a mercenary band from Netilland, under formerly Imperial service. Of course they’d use that governate’s model of cavalry saber. As for hearing of it…I’ve seen it.”

…All too fortunate. What would you have to pay in the future for this? “Where is it?” you demanded.

“My brother’s collection of curiosities,” Von Walen said, “My eldest’s, and there’s no chance he’ll give it up. I could, maybe, convince him to trade something for it from my own collection, though…Hey, hold on, hold it,” Von Walen cut you off before you could interject, “You’re asking me to give up something here, you see? Then giving up a historically significant artifact, a piece of the Archduchy’s history, Helman the Silver Lance’s sword with all the dings in it from the Battle of Messingplatz? I think I need a little more for my plate, Von Tracht.”

“Name it,” you said immediately. This sort of opportunity would be worth the cost. What could he even ask for that he expected you to give?

“I’ve got the home, you see,” Von Walen said, “But look at how big it is, then look at what lives in it. Just me. Once these work crews are done, it’ll just be whatever servants are up for grabs nearby. I want to share this, you know? You’re good with women-“

“Uh,” you interjected, “I don’t think-“

“-Better than I am,” Von Walen finished for you irritably, “Look, I don’t care how you do it, they flock to you, and not to me. Hook me up. Set me up. Do that and I’ll see about getting you your sword back, yeah? I’m not an endless fountain of generosity. It’s not much to ask for, is it? Come on. I’m not picky at this point.”

…Not what you expected to be asked for. Not something you were sure you could grant either, confident as he seemed to be that you could…

Also, didn’t the Major say that he had been visiting a “foreigner?” Were they incompatible? Or perhaps he wasn’t confident? Strange.

>You could set him up on a date with your retinue. That was all, no guarantees. And if he abused her, you’d kill him where he stood.
>Did he remember Hilda? She also wasn’t picky. Maybe the two of them could help each other out equally.
>Kindly inform Von Walen that you couldn’t help him with that, and he’d have to figure out that problem on his own. You’d go see his brother yourself if you had to.
>Other?

>>5291122
>Other?
Ask about taste in women.
Talk about the party where you will attend and that you will drag him along and try to help him stand a chance.

>>5291122
>>5291135
Support. I suspect Hilda and Anna won't do...

>>5291141
>Anya
Fugg

>>5291122
>Did he remember Hilda? She also wasn’t picky. Maybe the two of them could help each other out equally.
Now that I think about it, this could work out with Hilda. We know Von Walen is an appreciator of large breasts, so he should at they very least have some attraction, and I very much doubt Hilda would be down about being set up in a mansion.

I don't see Anya working out for him, though that's mainly because I don't see Anya working out for most people. I guess it wouldn't hurt as a backup option.

>>5291135
I don't mind dragging him to the party to help introduce him to people, but I think we should try out Hilda first.

>>5291122
>Did he remember Hilda? She also wasn’t picky. Maybe the two of them could help each other out equally.

>>5291122
>Other?
Implore on the state of his relationship with this foreign woman the Major mentioned.
While I'm sure Richter would sooner try and foist her off to dear rat boy than leave her to the mercies of the louse, Teo has shown a bit of a complex when it comes to interacting with the peasantry and you don't get more of a peasant than Hilda. I don't think there's the right set up there to produce be a particularly healthy relationship.

>>5291122
>Other?
Hilda and Anya are some of the worst choices for Teo. Hilda isn't nobility, and is into masculinity: hunting, fighting rather than collecting. Now she might love Von Walen's land...

For someone who wants to be a Lord with a capital L like Von Walen, he will need a noble wife. Meaning Fram might just be his ticket so ask about her.
Anya if prompted would just laugh, and laugh and laugh...

Bringing him to the party is a good idea, at the very least it's an opening. No one vaguely important is going to go to his estate so he needs to go out and search for her.
Even if we get him shacked up, interrogate him on how he plans to get the sword back.

>>5291135
>>5291170
Supporting.

>>5291313
Also if the invitation hasn't reached him yet inform him he's getting invited to the wedding so that's another opportunity to mix around.

Though really I'd say the ideal match for Teo if he can't woo Fram is probably some daughter of a house in decline in which being married off to him isn't seen as a downgrade(like Richter's or Klaudia's to an extent, though the Schneebergs have better land imo).

>>5291135
>>5291313
>>5291141
Let me hear about your tastes first.

>>5291149
>>5291162
Let me tell you about this crispy hamburger I have.

>>5291170
>>5291202
>>5291313
So how about that foreigner?

Also come with me to this party coming up, not like you're doing anything better, right?

>>5291353
Hey nerd come to my wedding so as many people as possible can watch me molest my fiancee.

Writing.

“I might be able to do something,” you said, “But first, what sort of women do you like? Even if you’re aren’t picky, you do have a preference, don’t you?”
“Not taller than me, and has a decent chest. Your Von Blum is unacceptable. No offense.”

…Von Walen was a rather short man. You’d have considered Anya for but a moment, but that was shut down in your imagination immediately. She would never respect a man like Von Walen, and would probably mock you for suggesting otherwise. Or worse, with her history as “One Day,” she might even take offense…no. Hilda was taller than him, but she was a degree of lowborn that lacked even basic proper education. Von Walen, in your experience, didn’t think much of lower class peoples. Would he accept that part of Hilda, on top of the other things? Such as having to rear the twins of a dead man…as well as the two not having much in common as far as interests went.

It was worth consideration still, but not quite yet. Hilda’s heavy chest would have to do a lot of work for her.

“I heard from the Major that you were visiting a foreign visitor,” you said, “Whose life you saved. Who would that be?”

“Oh,” Von Walen grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, her. Framboise.”

“The Emrean Woman who you described as having the biggest rack you’d ever seen?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Von Walen sighed and paced in a tight circle, “That won’t work out.”

“She’s not that much taller than you,” you said, remembering who he was talking about, “Wouldn’t she be appreciative of what you’ve done?”

“Sure, but not in that way. The way I’d like. See, she’s…well, do you know her? Her family name or anything?”

You shook your head at Von Walen. “I remember her men called her the lady de L’Ensoleillée. That doesn’t mean anything to me, though. Is there a problem with that? A nobleman would be fine with a noble lady wife, no?”

“That’s not the point.” Von Walen said with irritation, “L’Ensoleillée are a high house in old-blood Emrean politics. She’s Jean-Phillipe Debon’s niece. She’s both over my head, way wealthier, not that interested, and controversial as all hell. Debon is a revolutionary, Von Tracht.”

…Debon’s niece? Remarkable. Yet he said that as if it wasn’t a big plus. Maybe it was because you’d forgotten so much, but you still didn’t see the big problem. With a shrug, you said, “I am to marry a Von Blum.”

“I don’t have the advantage,” Von Walen insisted with a grumpy growl of defeat, “Being taller, having a small chest, that’s tolerable compared to being somebody who’s…settling for less.”

…The problem was still utterly imperceptible. “Do you want help?”

“No shit.”

“If you’re so sure that won’t work,” you said, “The court social I’m going to in about a week is something you can attend. There ought to be young eligible women of noble birth there, looking for the best they can grab. It’s what I need my sword for. I’ll need to appear with it.”

“Well, I’m not going to give up my stuff for that sword to give over for a maybe somebody will notice, Von Tracht. Give me a bit of a break, Judge Above.” He straightened his back to rear up, “If you don’t think I’ve got a chance just tell me, yeah?”

If you did that, he wouldn’t get you Helman’s Blade, though. “How exactly are you going to get that sword once I help you, anyways? Are you sure your brother will give it up?”

“Oh, of course,” Von Walen said with new self-assurance, “I’ve got something he really wants from me. It’ll be a fair trade.”

“And that thing is?”

“A set of carved nacre and coral jewelry, from the hoard of the Peninsula Queen,” Von Walen said, “If you know who that is. You probably don’t, but my eldest brother’s wife has been hungering after those. He’ll trade whatever I ask, I’m sure.”

You didn’t. “As long as you’re certain.”

“Absolutely certain.”

So long as you fulfilled your end of the bargain.

>Hilda it was. Even if she didn’t seem that compatible, she’d at least be easy to convince.
>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.
>Try to negotiate for that sword some other way. This didn’t seem like it’d work out no matter what you tried.
>Other?

>>5291480
>Hilda it was. Even if she didn’t seem that compatible, she’d at least be easy to convince.
I know Hilda and him are far from a perfect match, but both of them *are* rather desperate for someone who will actually settle down with each other, and otherwise have decent reasons to accept. Who knows, they might even grow to appreciate each other.

If he still throws a fit after Hilda, we can go with:
>Try to negotiate for that sword some other way. This didn’t seem like it’d work out no matter what you tried.

Despite how it looks, we aren't a woman tree. We don't really know all that many, especially who might be compatible with him. At some point he's going to have to accept the good connection that Von Tracht is and use that if he's not satisfied with the options he has.

>>5291480
>Other?
Ask Anya if Alina is available.

>>5291480
>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.

This will be rich coming from our MC but tell him he needs to have confidence in himself (or at least be good enough to fake it). He'd be a much more pleasant person in general if he got over his insecurities and inferiority complex.

Also maybe find some other person to get advice on how to treat the fairer sex properly. Any female relatives he's close with? Otherwise as far as acquaintances go Von Igel is happily married, or in the worst case there's always Gerovic lurking around.

>>5291480
>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.

You miss all the shots you don't take.

>>5291480
Both
>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.
>Try to negotiate for that sword some other way.

Hilda might agree to it (even if I don't think Von Walen will) but they'd both be miserable. I don't want either of them to be miserable.
We have an in with Fram, and as much as her being related to Debon is a minus, Teo literally saved her life. His reservations about her will evaporate once he's resting his head on her huge....tracts of revolutionary tank tactics.

The trick is he needs to stop seeing himself as such a minus. Von Walen is the one with the advantage here. He lead the operation that saved potentially millions of lives. He risked his life to save her from the predations of the Netillians.

Von Walen, you could be her hero, all you have to do is step into the role. You both share a history, at the very least try. Would Helman the Mercenary ever become a Von Tracht if he hadn't left Netilland?

But while we are doing this, start taking stock of treasures and historical values within our reach. We do have unique contacts to approach that might have something.

>>5291480
Supporting >>5291512

>>5291480
>>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.
Von Walen I will strangle you if you are this close to getting your future wife and getting me that fucking sword and you get cold feet now. Does he not realize he saved her life? At this point she is his to lose, Fram has been through a lot, and whoever she is now probably isn't the same rich niece of Debon that set out as. There won't be anyone back home for her that understands what she went through more than Von Walen.

>>5291480
>>This hesitancy was silly. See if you could play a proper matchmaker for once and coax Von Walen and the Emrean together. In one visit, ideally, there was plenty more you had to do.

>>5291479
Is Debon still alive?

>>5291489
Throw Hilda a bone.

>>5291499
Hey fluffy I need your sister that's got your runty height but a rack that isn't in my strike range.

>>5291501
>>5291511
>>5291512
>>5291537
>>5291692
>>5291728
The badger man will be dragged before the cow from the north, despite any kicking and screaming.

Writing.

>>5291815
>Is Debon still alive?
He is. It's been 22 going on 23 years since the end of the Emrean War, and Debon was in his 30s when that ended. Many an Emrean higher officer has had experience in the Liberation, but Utopian Revolutionaries are less common, unless they at least claim to have recanted, due to the shift in national attitude towards them at the tail end of the war.
Debon is not an expatrié, though there's plenty who would like him to be.

This hesitancy was silly. As bad as you’d been in the past at trying to play matchmaker, even a blind person could see that Von Walen would have no better chance than this. His sense of inferiority was inflicting him with a disease of stupidity- and he could lose his best chance at happiness for it, as well as your best chance at getting the Von Tracht Sword back in time for your court debut.

If you lost that because of this, you just might have to cut off the rest of your fingers to replace with mechanical substitutes, solely for the purpose of properly strangling Von Walen.
“I know her, you know her,” you started off, “You’ve saved her life. You were in charge of Operation…whatever it was called, that might have saved who knows how many people, why must you see yourself as somebody less than that?”

“That’s not,” Von Walen paused, “Not wrong, but-“

“Stop this doubt in yourself and go for it. The only person who I can see not wanting you to at least try is yourself,” you dug into your family legacy for an example, “Would I be here if Helman the Silver Lance decided to stay in Netilland doing odd jobs like a city daytaler instead of throwing his lot in with Roland the Second? Have some ambition, after what that woman has been through, she’s staying here, isn’t she? You share something. Let’s just go for it.”

Von Walen thought, mumbled some vague objection, but relented. “Fine, fine, but don’t talk so loudly about that secret shit, will you? And, uh,” he closed the door behind him, “Help me out with talking, I don’t spoil any chance by looking like a fool.”

“…You’ll need to find somebody else to help with that,” you said through a grimace.

-----

The Strosstadt 3rd Military Hospital was somewhat of a drive away- not a short journey for Von Walen, even with an automobile. It gave you some time to chat.

“You’re invited to my wedding, you should know,” you said, “It’ll be coming up around the end of the month. I’ll have an official letter sent when they’re ready, we’ve had to make many last minute changes, you know…”

“All of the other guys’ll be there, I take it,” Von Walen said, one hand lazily tipping the wheel of the car.

“I’ve not been shy on invitations. The Von Blums are rich and powerful enough to accommodate my unreasonable guest list.”

“The entirety of the Silver Lances will be there, I take it?”

“No. A few, though. My substitute gunner and radio operator. My platoon officers, their men too, if they want.”

“Huh,” Von Walen leaned the wheel into a turn, “Figured you’d take along your old guys, or none of them, not half and half. You were pretty close to those commoners.”

“They’ve suffered alongside me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all of them. Don’t you feel the same way for your own crew?”

“They’re all dead now,” Von Walen said flatly, “Got blown up when my tank went up, I only barely got away.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.” A moment of silence. “They were with us in Sosaldt, back then.”

“Yeah.” Von Walen said in a clipped dismissal, “Yeah, they were.” Another pause, and you considered breaking it, but you didn’t know how much that loss might sting to talk about. “Tell me about these Silver Lance crew. Are they all they’re hyped up to be?”

“They are,” you said, “My gunner shot down a plane.”

Von Walen looked over to you, eyebrows raised, “With a machine gun?”

“With the m/32’s tank cannon,” you said, “Nobody could believe it happened, but it did.”

“Damn,” Von Walen said, his mood lightening, “I don’t know if I believe that either, but you aren’t the sort to spout that kind of thing and be bullshitting. Especially after, you know, the ghost shit…There’s no more of that I need to shit myself about, right?”

“Not for now, no.”

“Thank God. How’d the rest of Netilland go, then, after I took off?”

“My platoon went out and killed a Netillian tank ace,” you said, “I didn’t take the shot. My platoon commander did. He and the enemy ace killed one another in their duel. I got caught up in a fight against his friend, or apprentice, or something. A Republic tank officer and I, we handled that.”

“A Republic tank officer?”

“We had spaces to fill in the platoons, and I got Hiedler to supply us with a good, experienced armor officer.”

“Hiedler, right,” Von Walen nodded, “The mustache guy. So is this Republic officer coming along, too?”

“If I can reach him.” If he’s survived. “A man called Planckner. He was a Death Head tank officer. Our enemy, once.”

“This wedding’s gonna be a real strange gathering, it sounds like.” Von Walen’s tone belied an understanding of how much an understatement that was, “That war, though. It’s not over, though you’re back?”

“Yes,” you replied, “Though it looked like the Netillian Republicans were on track to win in the end. I don’t know what will happen in Ellowie, but from how things were going, I don’t think the fighting will last much longer…I’m hoping it will end in time for my wedding, so that friends involved in that can come over.” You sensed a space to bring it up, so you did, “I’m also to be promoted to be in command of an experimental unit. A demi-battalion, for the Von Blums. You’ll stay under my command, won’t you? A promotion’s in it for you. I need trusted officers.”

Von Walen pursed his lips. “I was thinking about ducking out of this whole soldiering thing, now that I’ve got what I do now…”

“Indulge me. We shouldn’t be taking on anything we haven’t been able to handle in the past.”

“I’ll think about it,” Von Walen said, “Where’s the next war, you think, anyways.”

“Probably Twaryi and Vynmark. Far away from us.”

“Who’ll win?”

You had to think on that. “I don’t know. Probably Twaryi. I don’t know if it’ll be a quick victory like Ellowie. Their enemy’s not outnumbered on two large fronts.”

“And where are we going, if I stick around with you?” Von Walen asked, with a glance.

“Not Vynmark,” you answered firmly.

“Good.”

-----

Framboise was in her own ward, along with the crew she’d taken along, who were in various stages of walking wounded. They brightened visibly at seeing you again- though they were wounded, they’d seemed to have healed a decent bit. How much, you wondered, might it be that Framboise wanted to stay? After all, her crew were her servants, and they’d stay with her wherever she went.

She did not open with New Nauk, though. She instead called to Von Walen in vibrant Emrean with a little wave and a smile, and he responded in a more sullen Emrean.
I can’t help you speak with her if you’re using a language I don’t understand, you thought in annoyance.

“Kommandant,” Framboise said to you as you came up next to her bed…a bandage was still wrapped around her head, but she was in a plain, loose shirt that struggled to remain loose along the top. A hospital gown probably would have failed to fit her. “Eet iz so nass o zee yoo again, I thought yoo might ‘ahve not zeen me again.”

You elbowed Von Walen. “Her face, Von Walen,” you hissed.

Framboise blinked and looked at Von Walen, and held her fingers to her mouth in a small, suppressed laugh, before saying something coy in Emrean. Von Walen flushed scarlet, and he looked down.

“What was that?” you asked.

“She asked if I wanted to use my hands instead of my eyes,” Von Walen muttered.

Anyways. “My friend here Teobaldt Von Walen,” you said to Framboise, “Wanted to ask you something.”

Framboise cocked her head. “Waht? Can he not say waht eet iz?”

“He’s gotten a big house and land and now he wants a wife,” you said.

Framboise snickered, then laughed. “Non non non, Teo, we do no’ move so fast where ah cahm from, t’es fou.” Von Walen’s shoulders slumped, and she added, “Baht if yoo want to be ma copain zen we ah okay? Why deed yoo nah ask before?”

“…I dunno. I didn’t feel like it.” Von Walen said with an ill-tempered mutter.

Framboise said something in Emrean and beckoned to Von Walen, and when he came close, she snatched an arm around his neck and pulled his face into he chest, and held him there, smothering him with a shock, but not a struggle. “I woo’ zink that ze men who go to Sosaldt woo’ be more forward, baht, ah…” She sighed and touched Von Walen’s hair, frowned, and scolded something in Emrean. “Teo is a…rabbit? Oui, a rabbit man, when it is women and not a battle. Ah will teach him too be bold, hee hee hee.”

You stepped over and tapped Von Walen on the shoulder. “I believe my end of our bargain is fulfilled, then? I’ll need you to fulfill yours in a few days.”

There wasn’t a response, but you felt that there must have been an understanding.

>Ask about anything else?
>Well, you were done here. Time to depart.
>Other?
Also-
>Go to visit Von Metzeler
>Go to get your Retinue
>Head back to the Blumlands
>Other?

>>5292351
Well that went a lot smoother than I anticipated.

>Well, you were done here. Time to depart.
>Head back to the Blumlands

>>5292351
>Ask about anything else?
How the are woman and her crew doing?
Would she be willing to see the Kommandant's real love life blossom, by coming to Richter's wedding or is she content with her book and new man?
Has she done any other reading while stuck in hospital?
How do Emrean guys feel about scars, because we got two ill tempered ladies that need dates and are open to recommendations.

>Go to get your Retinue
We'll get Rondo after.

>>5292351
>Other?
Read any good books lately?

>>5292351
Von Walen finally got lucky! My man!
>Ask about anything else?
Ask if they have any plans?
Ask if she can send her regards to Debon. We like his style the most.
>Other?
Start writing a book when leaving: On adaptive warfare. The book will be about the importance of independent command, mechanized logistics, ambushes and unconventional warfare.
Am open for other theme's and suggestions.
The book should cover Richter's experience in a wide variaty of warfare.

>>5292351
Ask if her crew/servants are recovering fine, has her family gotten news of what's happened? They might be worried if they haven't heard anything.

Invite her to the wedding as Teo's plus one as well as a comrade we've fought with in Sosaldt, she was there for the town defence and jammer raid after all. Should be quite a few people there that can speak Emrean so she shouldn't feel out of place.

>Other
Go find Karel Van Halm, ask Von Walen what he remembers of him from our Academy days.

I'll also support writing a book on Richter's experiences as a long term thing as per >>5292413 (or getting someone to type it down/ghostwrite given our fingers)

File: aerial-view-of-gdansk-dur(...).jpg (461 KB, 2121x1414)

461 KB JPG

>>5292351
>Ask about anything else?
The aforementioned suggestions are all quite good
>Go to visit Von Metzeler
If we were to collect Anya, do we know where we might housing her? Would Lord Von Blum offer her guest lodgings or would we be putting her up in a nearby hotel until the wedding?
Also, to sate personal curiosity, is there any place you can point to that might be a decent general analog, in terms of real world architecture, for the cities of Mittelsosalia? Todesfelsen and Rostig in particular.

>>5292351
Well, as the they Emreans would say, tray bean.
>Well, you were done here. Time to depart.
For what its worth Von Walen, you did fight to be here. Probably deserve the estate and the woman at least twice over really.
>Go to get your Retinue
Maybe best not to leave her at home for too long. She could probably help with physical training ideas too, or at least help figure out how to do the Major's special attack the most effectively.
>>5292413
>Other?
>Start writing a book when leaving: On adaptive warfare.
A book may be a good idea to get going, but I would want to write it for a purpose. I would want to try and put up a competing doctrine for the Archduchy's Battle Line. A knightly charge of armored warriors sounds great on paper, but it seems very unadaptable and vulnerable if the enemy is expecting it. I like the Silver Lances organization of two tank groups at the smallest level, combined together into larger platoons to allow for more flexibility and adaptability in combat. I know that is a pretty long term goal and will probably only have a limited effect in even the best scenario, but it is something I had been thinking on to improve outside of just the physical tanks properties themselves.

>>5292351
Well that was easy.
This wouldn't work in real life though ...right?

>>5292657
Top 5 places to find women as a man under 6 foot: #1 Inside the burning wreckage of a tank

>>5292657
Teo lucked out with Fram's personality I'd say. Would be funny to see the Major's reaction though.

>>5292351
>Ask about anything else?
Wish her luck and ditto with the invitation.

>Go to get your Retinue
Anya is probably stir crazy, and since she isn't combat fit yet she can hang out our parents place if she wants or if not then I'm sure there's quarters in the Blumlands army barracks that we'll be taking over. Considering we are probably going to be spending a lot of time in training and R&D we can set some roots.

A variety of short convo options across the board.

As for next location-

>>5292372
Back to the Bum Lands

>>5292375
>>5292601
>>5292722
Retrieve Fluffy

>>5292535
Man time to talk to that guy for the first time in five fucking years god damn.

>>5292579
Get Mr. Schneeberg.

Also-

>>5292413
>>5292535
>>5292601
Get writing on a book. You'll have plenty of time to work on it and research for it, after all.

Writing.

>>5292579
>If we were to collect Anya, do we know where we might housing her? Would Lord Von Blum offer her guest lodgings or would we be putting her up in a nearby hotel until the wedding?
The housing for retinue is typically the responsibility of their patron to handle. So in this case, yes, you should expect guest lodgings to be provided at your request, including a paid-for room, if other quarters are unavailable.
Failing that she can just sleep in the same bed as you and Maddy. Not like the latter's been going there at night anyways.
>Also, to sate personal curiosity, is there any place you can point to that might be a decent general analog, in terms of real world architecture, for the cities of Mittelsosalia? Todesfelsen and Rostig in particular.
I'm tragically not familiar enough with the geography of old european shitholes that aren't stuffed with concrete commie cubes to give a good answer to that, but to try and give an approximation, I'll describe their general feel.
See, Sosaldt was never really controlled even under the rule of Alexander. Reich military governors had forts built that they commanded from, and frequently these forts were abandoned after the Duke's Revolt as it became difficult to supply and maintain them, and many governates broke off of their own accord and became the ancestors of the present city states.
Most new construction is quite cheap, but the wealthier places do approximate a style that is quite old- pre Alexander, or perhaps the style of construction during Reich reign, depending on the place. Rostig is an example of a post-Reich era style settlement, while Todesfelsen is very much a Reich-era styled city what with its imperial fortress centerpiece.
To put it shortly, they tend to look old even if they really aren't, which is part of what makes Wossehnalia stand out- its skyscraper is an extremely distinctive sight. I'd hesitate to call most any Sosaldtian city state beautiful, or even aesthetic- they're tangled and congealed messes, badly in need of urban restructuring.
At least the rent's cheap, if existent.

>>5292684
There were a few advantages. One, he speaks her language so she isn't uncomfortable communicating with him, two is his proximity to the adventures that inspired her in the first place, three is that he nobly saved her life, so really, she's plenty willing to at least give him a chance.
Anything else is up for debate.

“I don’t mean to interrupt anything,” you said as Von Walen seemed to have passed away in the Emrean woman’s bosom, “But I did want to ask how you and your men were doing. You’ve been here some time, after all. How long away from home…”

A servant-crewman answered that. “There will be scars, limps, but nothing that cannot be adjusted to. The lady wishes not to anger her lord father with how this has turned out,” he said, standing straight as he could though he had a crutch and his arm in a sling, “While he would be frustrated that this adventure is taking so long, he would be furious if he knew that she came to this amount of harm. As well as us.”

“So very good zat zis little man saved ahs,” Framboise rubbed Von Walen’s head, though more as she were toying with a dog than a person.

“The Lapin was lost still, my lady,” another servant said dourly, “That was not inexpensive, even for war materiel.”

Framboise cooled at the mention of the lost tank. No, she’d still be getting quite the dressing down when she returned…

“Since you’re not walking around,” you said, “Have you done any more reading? Anything…good?”

“Ah…non, ah ‘ave been trying to keep oop with ze news,” She gestured to a desk with a stack of newspapers, “So mahch happening, yoo zee.”

Closer inspection told you that they were foreign newspapers- though rather old, now, and in New Nauk. Delsan, perhaps? Or further abroad? The headlines referred to the new union of Pohjanazkh- geographically, it was separated from Emre by a recently reconquered territory of the Reich…

“Close to home,” you mused aloud, “When you do return, would you mind giving Richter Von Tracht’s regards to your uncle, Debon? He has been influential to me.”

Framboise’s eyes widened, she blinked, and she angrily scolded Von Walen in Emrean again. A muffled defensive uttering came in reply. “Er, oui, baht…I do not think he will want ze regards of…an Archdoochy fighter. Maybe he will like ze Kommandant better…”

It didn’t need to be explained why. Utopian Revolutionaries were fundamentally opposed to the nature of the sort of society the Archduchy operated under. Perhaps, the sort of societies most nations in general were. Though, if it helped that your words would be said to be from a man so wreathed in legend as the Kommandant, perhaps imagination would fill things in for your benefit.

“If you are staying for a while longer, perhaps you’ll be feeling better in a few weeks,” you said, “My wedding to my fiancée Maddalyn Von Blum will then. I would like to invite you, if you like. Official invitations should be ready in a few days, but just to say ahead of time, if you won’t be too busy, or recuperating still.” For some reason, she was hesitant, so you elaborated. “I’m inviting everybody who’s been with me on my journeys, who’s helped me along the way. I feel like you all deserve to see where you’ve gotten me to.”

“I will think about it,” Framboise said, still not sure. It was a rather heavy event to drop on somebody in only a few weeks, but that was hardly your fault.

…Well, maybe it was your fault.

“As long as it doesn’t conflict with any other plans…” Perhaps best not to ask after those presently- the answer was probably no- these people probably weren’t like your retinue, getting into trouble in spite of injury.

…You ought to go get her soon.

The reminder to yourself made you think of a final query. “Say,” you gave to the room, “What do Emrean think of…women with scars? I’m trying to tie down the bachelorettes in my company.”

The servants all looked at each other, and discussed something gravely in Emrean, before looking back to you all as one. “Most think of Sosalians as…” one started.
Another finished in a more succinct summary. “If these women are your friends then you would not direct Emrean men to them. The sort that would pursue them.”
Point taken.

“Well, if you do decide to attend the wedding,” you said as you turned to leave, “There might be people you know there, is all. My fiancée and her family speak Emrean, so if you’d rather not speak New Nauk, then that’s an option. Rest well.

-----

It would require being away for longer, but while you were closer to Sosaldt than the Blumlands, it felt necessary to go and retrieve Anya. Did you need her around? No. But you wanted her around, and besides, she couldn’t attend your wedding if she was stuck at her home in Lark, a nothing village next to Todesfelsen. She’d spent enough time with her sister. You were taking her back now. In the days to come, you would need her skills, if you were to handle this new unit you were being given with any level of competency.

So east you went the next morning- and despite the border with Strossvald being the Republic of Mittelsosalia now, the new Republic’s hold over its land and borders was tenuous as best. Upon asking how you should enter, you were bemused when advised to just walk on over, if you really wanted to. An inquiry on the pretext of doing proper business gave you a more serious answer.

Mail services had been set up as quickly as what border security there was- and the two organizations intersected, naturally. If you wanted to go to a part of Mittelsosalia, you didn’t need a passport- you just needed to pay a fee to a mail courier, and you could ride along until their delivery schedule and your destination intersected. Only for a very small amount of people, of course. These weren’t bus services.

Good enough, still. You found a courier at the depot who accepted a bit more change to go straight to Todesfelsen, and by the time you reached Lark, the sun was low in the sky- partly because of the unexpected administrative work you needed to do.

It was unrecognizable from when you had last come here. A new facility and accompanying structures had been built to house a military outpost, a vehicle maintenance stop, and all the associated business that drew. A cottage you remembered shooting up had been messily plastered over, but it took serious investigation to see where you’d once been.
Thankfully, even if you were lost, you benefited from being extremely recognizable.

“Oi. Fairy boy.” A nasally voice called to you.

You looked to your side, and saw Anya there, leaned up against a wall- one arm still cast up and in a sling, from how it was bent, but the other clenched a splotchy-colored peach, which had a few bites taken out of it already. She was wearing that shawl Malachi had given her- and a loose pair of heavy canvas pants that cut off at army boots, and a blouse just short enough to cut off just above her bellybutton. Ambling over to her, you wrapped an arm around her back and pulled your retinue into your chest.

“Hey, lay off,” Anya said with a stiffening of her shoulders, “Not out here so public. Save the sappy stuff for later.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” you said, “How is your arm?”

“Still shit,” Anya said, “At least it’s still stuck onto me.” She took a bite of peach, and spoke through it, “Youf godda lod uh dell.”

“I don’t remember fruit like that being on sale around here,” you said- it looked decently fresh, not canned or preserved at all.

“Stuff comes through here to Todesfelsen,” Anya explain with a pointing finger, “Some store owners found out who to suck up to for first pick of the lot.” She picked out the stone from the fruit with her teeth and balanced it on her tongue, before sucking on it and spitting it into the dust in a long, high arc. “I like these things, those stones in there are a good size for chucking at morons.”

“As long as you don’t spit them at people.”

“Yeah, I do that.”

“…” You shook your head, “Anyways. I’ve come here to get you. I’d quite like you back. Do you want to come along? I figured you might be going stir crazy here.”

“Kinda.” Anya said, with little energy, “I’m trying to give Alina less shit. I bought a little shack so we can both live there, instead of her having to lick the mayor’s fucking balls to stay in his place. Some brownies came around to tell me that I’d abandoned my post as courier, but that I’d been pardoned because of that ass fucking we gave the Netillians up at that fort. So they just came to waste my time with a lecture before giving me a piece of paper saying I’d get a medal sometime. Wants one thing then wants another then says never mind. Stupid ass government. Who needs it.”

“You want to go to your place, then?” You asked, “I didn’t want to just swoop in and snatch you away anyways. Have you met anybody new?”

“Bunch of dumb bitches that Alina’s pals with. I don’t like ‘em.” Anya said dismissively, “A few Hogs still come by. Tell ‘em not to baby me, then we go and throw shit or play cards and dice. Mess with the tank. It’s not so bad, but I want to get back into the shit yesterday, y’know?” She finished the peach and sucked on her fingers, “Oh yeah, the house. Nah. We’re out here. You’re still alive after whatever happened up north. Let’s go do somethin’. Have some fun. You got back alive, so did I.”

“Alright,” you accepted, though you were still weighing how long you should goof off for, considering you could go back to Strossvald and do that just as well. Though there was far less potential for rowdiness. “What were you thinking of?”

“I was thinkin’ of getting’ a tattoo,” Anya said, pointing to her shoulder, “On my back, like the right side. I dunno. I saw somebody with that and I thought it was pretty neat. Maybe I’d go for less. I wasn’t sure, figured I should ask somebody who gives a shit about if it’s cool. Maybe you oughta get one too, huh?”

>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.
>Why not? It was something mercenaries did- though perhaps not soldiers of the Archduchy. You had a suggestion… (Write In)
>Both of you could get a tattoo- it wasn’t as though you hadn’t had your body messed with enough as is. (Write In)
>Other?
Also-
>Think of something to go do to hang out. It doesn’t have to be an involved trip, but you shouldn’t be in a hurry to hop back over the border. Especially later in the day.
For example-
>Do some sparring. Funny as it might seem for a couple of cripples to play fight, you wanted to learn- and you wanted her to get some action.
>Treat her to some dinner in Todesfelsen. Anya was easy to please with food, after all.
>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?
>Anything else on the table- save for getting wasted. Unless you really want to.

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

>Anything else on the table- save for getting wasted. Unless you really want to.
Pound some whiskey back and find a place to have some FUN. Dance hall, bowling, movie, a fair. Hell, a museum! Roll the dice and walk around to find something.

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

>Do some sparring. Funny as it might seem for a couple of cripples to play fight, you wanted to learn- and you wanted her to get some action.

>>5293812
>Why not? It was something mercenaries did- though perhaps not soldiers of the Archduchy. You had a suggestion…
Some buttons running down her navel so she can at least pretend to be wearing her uniform correctly.

>Other?
How has she been faring with the painkillers? Any notworthy side effects? Is she at a dosage where she's safe to drink? If she's up and about, hopefully, she's past the worst of it, but it's worth asking, considering the nature of some 1930s medicine.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?
but if she's of the mind that this isn't exactly a good time:
>Do some sparring. Funny as it might seem for a couple of cripples to play fight, you wanted to learn- and you wanted her to get some action.

Also, it'd be kinda neat if we could take the tank with us into Strossvald. We should look into that, it's an extra tank, and I'm sure Anya would appreciate it.

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?
Make sure to get some light refreshments too.
Don't get piss drunk while working on heavy machinery, but get a casual whiskey in yah.

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.

Anyone can ink a tat, scars are earned on the battlefield.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?

Does she plan to find a permanent crew for it?

>>5293812
>Come on now. Anya ought to know that her scars were better than any tattoo could hope to be. As well as the scars you shared.
And yet...a tattooed outline of Richter's hand on her right cheek. You know which cheek I mean. Yes it can be his right hand.

>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?
How the hell did that get salvaged and delivered here? The Hogs? We should also contemplate the headache of transporting (smuggling) it over the border. Or bribe her with another tank.

>Other?
I forget if we've told her about the promotion. It should come up at some point but since she is building her own tank, any ideas she can think of to improve Archduchy standard would be handy.heh

>>5293812
>Why not? It was something mercenaries did- though perhaps not soldiers of the Archduchy.
Option number 1 sounds unhealthily possessive

>>5293812
>Mess with the tank, she said? So she had it here? How about you do something with that?

>>5293816
>>5293822
>>5293827
>>5293979
>>5294000
>>5294118
>>5294449
Gee I wonder if there's a preference here.

>>5293904
The sarcastic tattoo.

>>5294462
Get what you want.
Unhealthily possessive of your retinue and pseudo-cousin? Surely not. What would give you that idea? :^)

>>5293816
Hit the city, black out.

>>5293822
>>5293904
>>5293979
>>5294000
>>5294118
>>5294449
>>5294464
A tank, you say? It's been too long since I got in one...

>>5293827
Time to bite her thigh for the third time.

>>5293904
How have those painkillers been?

Writing.

No, a tattoo wouldn’t be cool, you thought. “Aren’t your scars better than any tattoo could hope to be? Anybody can have ink put in them. A battle scar can’t be paid for.”

Anya turned her head slightly, and thought to herself. “I guess, if you put it like that. Don’t need something trying t’ take away from those…” Her uncertainty on actually getting one showed itself-if you disapproved, that was the push needed, and from her reaction…that you said they were better gave her even more pause for thought.

“If you’re going to get one anyways, I’d suggest some buttons in a line there,” you pointed to her stomach, “So you can at least pretend to wear a uniform right.”

Anya gave you an evil smirk. “Yeah? Maybe I oughta get a tattoo of your handprint on my ass, huh?”

She wasn’t the only one who could be mischievous. “My right hand, then.”

“I’ll do it.”

“…” You paused, and Anya’s look grew more smugly sinister. “Don’t do that.”

“You’ll give me a scar with those metal fingers first, I bet,” Anya grinned wide in triumph.

“Oh, stop,” you sighed, “You mentioned a tank. The same one you had before? It’s here? How did that even get down here?”

“It got fixed up and driven down,” Anya put a hand to her chest, “It’s my tank. I took it. Ain’t no papers sayin’ so but the gun’s mine, at least. So says your hoity toity Archduchy.”

Any clerk would see this situation and bury their face in their hands from the administrative tangle. Maybe that was how she even kept a piece of valuable war loot. Yet…it was insecure here, sort of. If you could get it back to the Archduchy, everybody involved could benefit.

“Let’s mess around with that tank, then,” you said, “Nothing like casual outings with a tank.” Though the fuel and maintenance prices were prohibitive, for making that a normal thing. “It does run, right? And have fuel?”

Anya snorted. “Of course it does. It’s a tank, not a scrap heap. The Hogs fixed it up and sent it back with me. C’mon. It’s in a shed behind my shack.” So you’d be heading to her house anyways, for what it was.

Though she called it a shack, it was actually more readily described as a cottage. An older construction, relatively, but the storage shed in back was new, and about half the size of the home, that you were not going into. The tank might have had the best living conditions of anybody who might have been in the place, you saw as Anya gestured for you to pull open the two large doors after unlocking a heavy chain, improvised from large steel sheets with bent plates bolted into them for handles. The floor was concrete, and an electric lamp and fan were connected to a gas generator that must have been a significant investment, you had assumed- but no. It was more war loot, ripped out of some innocent wreck and put here- bolted into the concrete so it couldn’t be stolen.

The tank itself hadn’t changed much from when you last saw it- though some new paint adorned it. Dust Devil adorned the turret as a name in black, and kill marks had been painted on the barrel of the gun, as well. Open topped- which was the reason your retinue was down an arm.

“Did you spend more on the garage than the house?” You had to ask.

“Definitely. Don’t need much t’ live in.” Anya said as she moved around the tank, performing a brief inspection. “Don’t mind worin’ that crank, do ya? Hard for me to do that right now. Gotta put my back into it even with two arms.”

“Of course,” you stepped up, “…Do you have medicine for the pain?”

Aya frowned. “Yeah. I don’t like taking it though. I’m pretty used to it hurting now. I don’t like getting doped on that shit. My mom got addicted to it. Forgot everything else. When I take the morphine, I…I feel myself goin’ like that. I don’t want to ignore the pain. Makes me have to think about how I got it. I’d rather hurt than lose myself.”

You’d hardly ever seen a wounded person turn down pain medication, but given Anya’s spite for her mother, her justification was understandable. “So you can drink, like before?”

“Damn, wanting t’ start early, huh,” Anya poked you in the side, “You got a problem?”

“Yes, and she’s standing right beside me.”

“Eat me,” Anya kicked you lightly on the foot, “Shut your yap with the smartass comments and get this thing started. We got places t’ go.”

The tank got started up, and you slotted the crankshaft back into the tank’s toolbox. “I was serious about the drinks, though. Do you have anything here?”

“Warm beer and moonshine,” Anya dug around under a shelf, “Anything fancier, you’re gonna have t’ buy yourself.”

“It’ll do. Give me one of those bottles.” Anya opened both bottles with the edge of a metal worktable, and tossed one to you. “I ought to tell you some good news to toast to,” you said as you sniffed the beer. Some sort of salty, sour ale of one sort or another. The label said Gose. “You’ve been awarded the right to wear the Silver Shield of Roland by the Archduke. Something else to put in the medal box. I’m also to be promoted to Major, and placed in command of an experimental demi-battalion. Things are looking up. So. To a brighter future.”

“To gettin' shot up again someday.” A clink of bottles.

“So,” you said after a pull of the salty beer. It wasn’t to your taste, but it was tolerable. “You have any crew for this machine?”

“Don’t need more’n two if we’re just messing around with it.”

“For the future, I mean.”

“Dunno,” Anya shrugged her shoulders high, “I was just gonna take yours. There’s always hogs willing but they’re not doin’ it ‘cause I want them there, y’know?”

“There’s time. Especially if you come back to help me with my unit. The Von Blums are tinkering with tanks, and I think they’ll appreciate practical advice.”

Anya’s eyes widened. “Making new stuff? Sounds wild. Lemme in on that.”

“Once we’re over there.” There was a level of secrecy to some projects, after all.

“Hey, drive this thing,” Anya pointed to the hull, “It’s hard for me to work the levers like this. I’ll be up top.”

The driver’s compartment was a bit cramped- this was based off an Emrean tank, from what you recalled, but all the words inside were in New Nauk- and labeled with Arsenal South. The Sosaldtian bootleg mechanized war materiel builder. This design had a complicated history even before Anya took the turret off and replaced it with an armored box with a Strossvald 4.7 centimeter gun in it. You did remember some refresher courses in how to crew the tank, but the handling of the levers still felt somewhat…unfamiliar.

“Oi, put the headset on!” Anya called down from above. You did- and it struck you, looking around at everything that was in here, how valuable this tank was even for it being a workshop bastard built from loot and copies.

Maybe that was part of why Anya liked it as much as she did.

“Gear check, this is Von Tracht, calling Fluffy.”

“Don’t make me go down there and kick you in the back of the head, Fairy Boy,” Anya said back, “Take us out. Let’s give the local losers a show.”

A few tests of the control levers and some pushes of the foot later, you eased the tank out of the garage nice and slow, in case any children or fools were gathering too closely to the new noise. The engine sounded smooth- Stein’s sister must have put in some extra work on it. Despite Anya’s hostility to being cared for by her former outfit, they still doted on her plenty. Good for them.

“We can just drive this thing over the border, yeah?” Anya asked.

“…Not unless we want to be attacked,” you said, “We’ll have to fly a truce flag and move to a checkpoint. As long as I can tell somebody that I am a commissioned officer of Strossvald transferring personal property of my Retinue across the border without being shot at, we’ll be fine.” When you looked around the hull earlier, you had noticed there was still ammunition stored within. You could take this thing out for a fight, if you really wanted to. “So what can we do with this tank?”

“Buncha things,” Anya said in your ear as you opened the forward hatch viewport all the way. No snipers would be taking cracks at you here. Hopefully. “Make sure you drive careful. Breaking track’s going to be a sharp rock right up the ass with a girl with one arm and a guy with one and a half hands.”

“Noted.”

“Anyways. There’s a scrap heap nearby where you had that battle back when. Could take potshots at those. If we’re feeling helpful, there’s shagherds that need to be culled up north near one of the cave groups. Those pay decent if we get some ears, and it’s no-guilt blasting. Or there’s the new Brownies drilling over south. We can mess with them. Crack off some fireworks and spook those wet-behind-the-ears recruits, or just see if we can bum some meat off the fire.”


>A trip down memory lane sounds nice. Shooting at old hulks never hurt anybody either.
>Hunting? With a tank? Count yourself in. Though Shagherds were plenty dangerous when aggressive…
>New soldiers of the Republic needed some harassment to harden them up. Go and mess with them.
>Other?

>>5294945
>New soldiers of the Republic needed some harassment to harden them up. Go and mess with them.

>>5294945
>A trip down memory lane sounds nice. Shooting at old hulks never hurt anybody either.
Let's not piss off allies or potentially get ourselves killed, yah?

>>5294945
>>Hunting? With a tank? Count yourself in. Though Shagherds were plenty dangerous when aggressive…
Tanks beat wild animals, right?

>>5294945
Does this thing have an MG? But yeah, let's not get ourselves killed right before our wedding for some stupid joyride.
>A trip down memory lane sounds nice. Shooting at old hulks never hurt anybody either.

>>5294945
>Hunting? With a tank? Count yourself in. Though Shagherds were plenty dangerous when aggressive…

File: dustdevil.png (441 KB, 1500x471)

441 KB PNG

>>5295040
>Does this thing have an MG?
It does.
Staubteufel is not written on this as I have not decided whether it is handwritten or stenciled.

>>5294945
>A trip down memory lane sounds nice. Shooting at old hulks never hurt anybody either.
Let's go plinking with a 2 inch gun and piss off the scrap merchants.

>>5294945
>A trip down memory lane sounds nice. Shooting at old hulks never hurt anybody either.

Hunting would be good if it wasn't so late in the day

>>5295079
Also nice picture, you wouldn't think that it was some kind of Frankenstein machine looking and it. It's a fixed turret right? How far can the gun traverse sideways?

Since Anya wants to bring this back we could set up some kind of Panzerjäger detachment for our demi-battalion using all those reserve tank hulls and production lines the Von Blums still have, with this as a possible inspiration.

>>5295230
I suppose it depends on which of the 3 kinds of reserve tanks get used for the pending 8cm infantry suppot gun conversion, but it definitely seems doable, if the anons can tolerate the (hopefully temporary) added logistics burden of another unit of non-m/32 based vehicles, until the workshop can work out getting those replacement engines from Valsten. With that many stock m/32 engines around after the HonMo conversions we might even be able to rehouse them in said reserve tanks (engineer miracle working permitting) and cut off another tail from the logistics headache the old tanks present, but now we really are navel gazing heh.
My only issue with the tank hunter idea is it feels a bit out of character to me, like it's us looking at real world armoured warfare development and trying to influence the battalion with the benefit of hindsight.
Where Richter has encountered dedicated fast tank ambushing units in Ellowie and Sosaldt, they've both been comprised of wheeled vehicles with AT guns/rockets and lots of smoke rather than something tank based. I feel like we'd need to justify that leap from what - in Richter's point of view- seems already an established idea i.e.: Tank hunting is the job of mechanised infantry in wheeled vehicles fast enough to outmanuever tanks.

>>5295323
Going to be a semi-long post so bear with the autism.

>Logistics burden and engine

Personally, I don't think logistics will be much of a problem, since all the reserve tanks are mature platforms that the Army has had experience with for years; our unit as equipped was going to come with a mixed fleet anyway.

As for the engines I do agree if we manage to get them replaced seeing if they could fit into the older tanks might be a worthwhile idea, while the m/32 stock engine may be underpowered for its hull, for the older tanks it could quite possibly be an significant upgrade for them. Having a open-topped turret or removing them entirely would save a lot of weight which would place less strain on the engine.

>Doctrine and reasons for development

I don't see the tank destroyers being used to actively chase down or flank tanks; while they *could* as seen by Anya at Sunderschimm, TDs with fixed turrets like the Dust Devil aren't really meant to be employed like that. They're to be used as mobile anti-tank guns that can keep up with the armour as well as shoot and scoot easily on the defensive.

And in fact we do have the perfect experience for that blueprint; the Crown Taker, and how he basically managed to snipe so many of our allies with impunity (especially during the Sleepwalker op).

Another driving factor would be cost. TDs would be cheaper and faster to make than new tanks (to use a RL example a StuG III was something like 80% of the cost a Panzer III to produce). Based on the figures tanq has given, the split between m/32 of all types and other models for the Von Blum Panzer corps is roughly 55-45, which is a lot of older tanks still in service.

Given that m/32 production isn't likely to be able to phase out the old tanks anytime soon (much less the B model), converting a sizable amount of them into platforms that can deal with modern armour and using existing production lines would be a decent stopgap solution, considering like with the Netillans everyone's competiting for their stuff to be modernised (as seen by our giant wish list during the requisition vote).

>>5295429
Open top / Turret vs Casemate breaks down into trading "utility" and crew factors for weight and internal volume savings, and generally decide whether a conversion suited to TD (Anti-Tank) or SPG (Infantry support) role

I would probably recommend that both a Long barrel and short barrel variants (HE mass is important to infantry support, and thin walled shells are where most of the gains will come from not solely caliber, so an exclusive "High capacity, Low velocity" HE shell for a prospective short barrel type may not be a bad idea) are looked at, and that elevation angles are kept in mind, since defilade shooting and indirect fire are going to be important for shooting from prepared positions safely, since we are likely to be on the defensive (at least at first), reverse speed and loader "assistance", will also be useful to taking advantage of any opportunities that come of things.

The most important thing that is getting a good feel for the surrounding area in and around our Assigned area, so we can predict and tailor our engagements to our advantage.

>>5295513
Well we're already converting some of the older tanks into SPGs so I think we're covered as far as infantry support goes, though I wouldn't be opposed to have some assault guns either. Agreed on the geography part though it'll depend on whether the unit will primarily stay at home or if Lord Von Blum is willing to send it out like the Lances do to gain experience.

BTW tanq do you still have the sketches of those m28-45s that were jury-rigged up for the Guillotines the first time we were here? A conversion would basically be fancier versions of those methinks.

File: adlasm2845.jpg (298 KB, 800x732)

298 KB JPG

>>5294956
Haze the new recruits.

>>5294974
>>5295040
>>5295145
>>5295186
Plinking on the wrecks of yesteryear.

>>5294985
>>5295056
Go on a hunt.

Writing.

>>5295230
>It's a fixed turret right? How far can the gun traverse sideways?
It is actually not fixed. The Dust Devil is built on top of the hull of an Atelier de Lunaire Arsenal South Model B (AdLAS B) Emrean cavalry tank (or rather, a clone of it), but the turret was partially replaced rather than entirely stripped out. Or, to put it more simply, a metal box was welded on top of it where most of it was chopped off so it could fit the gun it has in it now. The new turret is a bit lighter despite the infantry anti tank gun shoved into it (which means it retains the same movements as said gun- for better or worse), what with being barely armor at all, and longer and thrust further forward, so it can't actually turn a full three hundred sixty degrees in one go.
Does it turn very well? Not particularly. It's a result of a scrap crew hacking apart a turret and putting their recreational project in its place, not an engineering marvel. It does turn, though.

>>5295527
>BTW tanq do you still have the sketches of those m28-45s that were jury-rigged up for the Guillotines the first time we were here?
I had to recreate it from a tiny picture of it from part of a battalion roster, but sure.
Mind you, these are guns stripped off of old ships from down south, so it's relatively certain in whatever project you have in mind that you should have access to better weapon options than you had back in Sosaldt picking through whatever you could find in the trash.

Picture is the base model of the AdLAS-B and the recreated m/28-45

“Let’s take a trip down to that field of memories,” you suggested to Anya, “I haven’t been around that place since…well, since the hulks now there first arrived.”

“Cool. Let’s shoot ‘em up some more, too,” Anya said, “See if you remember any that pissed you off, give ‘em another shell in the side.”

“The authorities won’t mind cannon fire, will they?”

“Fuck ‘em,” Anya said back, “What are they gonna do, come up to us and ask us pretty please to stop shooting up garbage? They owe us.”
The disdain for authority wouldn’t fly back in the Archduchy, but hopefully, being attached to the Von Blums would mitigate things. Here though… “I suppose we aren’t at risk of being more than a nuisance.”

With that, you fumbled about with the tank’s controls until you figured out again what the dials really indicated, and you moved forwards slowly, out of the town, as the locals gawked at this strange armored vehicle moving out from a seemingly plain house. How many of them even knew the people who lived there, you wondered.

A couple of barrels of fuel were mounted on brackets on the back, but Anya assured you that it wouldn’t be a problem. “Gas is cheaper than it’s ever been,” she said, “Dunno if it’s because of the Republic or because the pumpjacks don’t have to be guarded so tight. Either way, even with how much gas a tank guzzles, we won’t get stuck. No chance.”

The dusty rolling plain was clear, and the sky had no clouds- finding the former battlefield again was easy, as you remembered faintly where you had gone, directed by Loch’s tactical plan, itself influenced by the prediction of a northward blowing dust storm. There was no dust storm today, thankfully, and a recent rain meant that not nearly as much red particulate sprayed up around the tank either.

“Down to our right,” Anya said, “I see some.”

“What do they look like?”

“Death Heads, from the black paint. Move us up that hill up front a ways, we’ll be close enough to see the damage we do to these.”

“Moving.”

Once you arrived, Anya called you up to the turret. “I don’t want to work whatever bootleg traverse they stuck in here with one arm. Get on up here, I need a loader.”

Humph. Which one of you was the tank commander here?

Anya was reclining on the edge of the turret in the commander’s seat when you got up, eyes half closed as she looked at the wrecks now to the south. “So this right here happened after we met, huh.”

“Not immediately after,” you thought back, “This was after we made an initial attack at that quarry turned fort. Called the Gash or something.”

“Was a big fuckin’ Gash. Bet they changed the name now.”

“That was to lure out some groups after Crannick died,” you said. There were no secrets between you and Anya…supposedly. Though you had revealed some to her. Did some more elaboration need to be made? Including the nature of Crannick’s assassination? She didn’t ask about it. It was all in the past. It could have been years, as far as she seemed concerned. Todesfelsen hadn’t been a place of friends, for her. “The Republic’s forces were weaker, so our commander in chief used a dust storm he’d predicted coming to even the odds, so that everything was in knife fighting range. We ended up the victors.”

“Whatever happened to that guy?” Anya asked, “Since you ain’t talkin’ about yourself.”

“I don’t know,” you said, “And I’m thinking I don’t need to know. He left somewhere else and hasn’t bothered me since I was here as Kommandant. Can I see those, for a moment?” You looked out over the mass of tanks through binoculars that you borrowed from Anya, “No T-15s…”

“Those were the best tanks we had,” Anya said, “Don’t think anybody would have left those out to rust. They’d rebuild them even if they were empty as a broken eggshell. I’d try and take one if we found it out here.”

“One tank isn’t enough for you?” You asked as you handed back the binoculars and began to turn the turret, leaning on a lever. Whatever the Iron Hogs did to modify this, the power traverse somehow still worked, though more slowly, and when it stopped, it jerked heavily. It hadn’t been designed for this turret at all, and the hand traverse was much gentler.

“One tank’s fine. I want as many as I can get anyways. Why not? Just in case.” Anya took over for you, glancing through the gun scope a couple times. “I’ll try and go for that little Netillian box there. It’s got a fat ass, see if I can put one right through it. Load me up with an AP.”

You reached for the ready rack and found a shell as Anya made adjustments with the handles and cranks to adjust the guns. “I took my fiancée into this battle, as crew.”

“Oh yeah? How’d she do?”

“She knows how to work a radio very well,” you said, “A hobby from before. She couldn’t use the bow gun at all, though. She isn’t suited for war…and she got shot. I haven’t taken her into a battle since.”

“Shot? From inside a tank?”

“We had to leave the tank for a short time,” you said, unsure whether to say why. You’d told Anya about the Presence, spirits, and such…but hadn’t said what your wife’s connection to it all was. “It was to save Krause. I don’t regret it…but I’d rather not put her in harm’s way again. She’s not keen on entering battle again, either.” A pause, “My wedding, by the by. You’re invited to it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anya said, “Firing.”

The blast of a 4.7 centimeter cannon was far louder when not inside an enclosed turret, you found out as you covered your ears in a hurry, and the ringing faded to the sound of Anya laughing, the brass shell casing still clattering about in the bottom of the hull after the semi-automatic mechanism had kicked it out.

“Look at that shit, gave that little runt a wedgie,” she pointed to the tankette and handed you the binoculars. The impact of the shell had crumpled up the engine access hatch, and dust floated about still from the impact of the shell. “I still got it.”

“The wedding, though,” you insisted, shaking your head, “I talked to Maddalyn about it. I convinced her to accept you there. It’s important to me. You’ll be coming back anyways, after all. I want you two to not be enemies.”

“I’m not her enemy,” Anya said in a bored tone, “I know when it’s a bad idea to stick my nose in something. No need for trouble.”

“The food will be excellent,” you tried to lure her in, “Everybody I’ve met and who’s helped me is going to be invited. Magnus will be there if he can make it. Please. I want you to see this, what all this has been leading to.”

Anya frowned at that, and looked back over the dusty flat, crestfallen. “…If it’s that important, I’ll go. No need to try and drop any bait in the water.”

Oh. You thought she’d be more…enthusiastic about that attendance. “Is something the matter between you and him? Don’t have one of those dresses to grab his attention?”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.” Anya said, pointing, “Load up another shot and shoot up that one next to the box. Aim for that drive wheel, knock it right off.” You could make no promises about if you’d hit it. As you loaded another shell into the gun, Anya suddenly spoke up again. “he. I’m gonna ask somethin’ that might be weird.”

You looked up, and tilted your head, to motion her on. How weird could it really be? Especially since this was Anya, after all.

“You said your fiancée got shot. If she’s still around, you got lucky. What if that wasn’t the case? What if she got killed?”

You paused, only slowly pushing the shell into the breach. “I’d rather not think about that.”

“I know. But it happens. People get shot, people die. People important to us. Changes our lives. You came here in the first place to save her, didn’t you? What would happen if she’d bit the dust? If I got smoked out here, after all-“

“What brought about this fatalism?”

“We’re out here in the remains of a battlefield, Richter,” Anya said, “I’m not tryin’ to piss you off or nothin’. You can change the subject if you want.”

>?
Also-
>Roll 3 sets of 1d100, DC 20 roll under, to hit.
Also also-
>Ask about or talk about anything while you’re out here?
>Do anything else besides shoot at wrecks?

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>5296256
>?
If Maddalyn would have died then I don't think Richter would have went back. To Strossvald or military service in general. Even if the rest of the mission would have been a complete success, her death would be a stain to filthy to clean of the soul.
Could one really call themselves anything but a failure after such a fuck up? After coming so far, just to lose one's reason for so vigorously pressing forward?
I think not.
Self exile is the only option in such an event. And not the fun type Heller did.

>Ask about or talk about anything while you’re out here?
Anya's sister and her friends. Ask her about the details of hanging out with them and Anya's seeming unhealthy relationship with people of her own gender.
Talk about Hilda, Gerovic, finding Hilda a proper man and future gun training.
Ask what it would take for her and Maddalyn to be at least neutral with eachother.
Meet any cute guys recently?
Ask how she's been keeping busy, has she been keeping up with her work outs?

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>5296256
>"I'd probably be real down for a while, not sure what I'd even do immediately afterwards. She was the entire reason I even came out here."

>Brag about shooting down a plane
>Tell more war stories that will definitely not do anything good to her desire to be back in a fight
>Offer her another job pushing papers for us, because she obviously loved it so much in Ellowie.

>>5296269
I like all of these too

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>5296256
I agree with the above responses on the Maddalyn question. Listlessness, loss of direction, self-exile, the works.

And this guy >>5296272 on other conversational topics
>Brag about shooting down a plane
>Tell more war stories that will definitely not do anything good to her desire to be back in a fight
>Offer her another job pushing papers for us, because she obviously loved it so much in Ellowie.

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>5296256
>?
Wracked by guilt I suppose. If she hadn't been brought near the front I'd doubt she would have been kidnapped, plus she lost an eye thanks to Richter already.

>Ask about or talk about anything while you’re out here?

Supporting >>5296272

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>5296256
If she died, I'd have you. If you died, I'd have her. If you both died, I'd have nothing.

>>5296374
Damn anon

>>5296374
A strong sentiment, but can't say I like or agree with the implications.

>>5296374
If Maddy died you'd be a good backup is what I'm getting from this lmao

>>5296256
>?
Man, imagine no Anya, no Maddy, stuck in Sosaldt in the middle of a revolution. Would going back even be an option at that point? The most positive scenario I can see is Richter working with the Iron Hogs to make them a Silver Lances 2.0 to the newly established Republic. The Richterbowl would certainly have been different, all bets are off at that point. Surely comfort would have been sought out somewhere, though Richter does have a penchant for alcohol and drugs, so things could have really turned down some darker roads.

>>5296655
Richter becomes the male version of Signy and just as depressed lmao.

>>5296666
>Punished Kommandant Quest

>>5296269
>>5296272
>>5296283
The reason you even came here, gone. Any reason to go back, gone as well.

>>5296285
The final wrong, in a string of mistakes.

>>5296374
Really getting into that possessiveness there.

>>5296655
The possibility of turning into a strung out never-was addict.


On the bright side, you managed to hit the target. Writing.

You hung on the gun rather than answering right away, or answering by shooting. You’d brought Maddalyn out of the tank to save Krause’s life- and you had, but what if she’d been shot in just a slightly different way? She was so small, and thin, she was not that far away from having been killed. Then she would have died- and Krause would have, as well. The whole personal drive behind going on that mission in the first place- gone, due to your own foolhardiness. Caused by it in part, as you insisted on taking Maddalyn south, where she had been abducted, out of the security of her home region.

“I’d have stayed in Sosaldt,” you said, peering through the gun scope again, looking at the sunset-dyed metal heaps in a new, theoretical context. Of a complete failure. “I wouldn’t have gone back to the Archduchy. Or back to the army. That stain of failure would be too much for me. I’d be lost. The only place fitting for such a dishonored fool would be these wastes. Who knows how long I’d linger, empty…”

“Oi.”

“Hm?” You turned your head to Anya, who lunged forward.

WHACK.

“Gah!” you recoiled as Anya slapped you across the face and sent your mask flying off down into the turret, “What the hell was that for?”

“I had to smack the retard out of you,” Anya shook her hand off like it had been wet and sat back sullenly, “Fuckin’ stupid. Somebody else dies so you decide to just die with them. You better not have that answer anymore, got it?”

“That’s not very fair,” you challenged back sorely, “What about when Hell died?”

“I went my own way, damnit,” Anya said crossly, “I have my sister, even if she’s a dumb bitch. I’ve seen your family, you wouldn’t have gone back to them? Fuck that. You’re better than that. You’d better be better than that. I wouldn’t have let that happen, not to his blood.”

“What?”

“Take the fuckin’ shot,” Anya threw her head up and to the side.

Fine. You looked down the gun scope again, made one last small adjustment, and fired without warning. Yet, something about that frustration either did something, or you were getting the tiniest bit better- the glow of the armor piercing shell’s bright burning rear shot out, and slapped into the target’s steel, just below the drive wheel.

“…Huh,” you marveled at your own handiwork.

“Doesn’t count,” Anya said, “Didn’t hit the wheel.”

“It absolutely counts,” you protested, “Besides, I wasn’t aware this was a contest.”

“Y’want it t’ be?” Anya grinned at you. “Make it gambling? A bet?”

“It’d be completely unfair,” you said, “You’re better at shooting than I am.” For now.

“Then make the ante something that makes up the gap. Can even go for somethin’ scary, somethin’ t’ really get the blood runnin’. No pfenning-bet pussies allowed on my tank.”

>Accept the game of betting on who shoots better? (What do you bet, and what do you want if you win?)
>No, there was no need to make this a competition.

“I’m thinking about it,” you said as you dug in the ready rack for the next shell. “You wouldn’t let me do that though, you said? Leave me to my miserable exile?”

“Never. So if I get my guts blown out all over the place someday, you better remember that, right?”

That wasn’t pleasant to consider the possibility of either. “That won’t happen.” A pause, after you closed the breach on the shell. “So, your sister and her friends. Why don’t you get along? Do you not like her choice in company, or what they like to do? It seems like you have a problem with women.”

“I’m a woman,” Anya said, “How could I have a problem with them? They just act like cunts. Asking shit I don’t want to answer and thinking it’s funny. They don’t respect the shit I’ve done, what I’ve gone through. Say shit like how I ought to put on makeup to hide these scars, and then maybe I’d get a boyfriend. Just dumb shit. I don’t care that much that they’re friends with Alina, but they just don’t get me.”

Anya could certainly get a boyfriend with or without makeup. She was cute enough- something you thought regardless of how many people claimed she was ugly. “They’re definitely wrong about getting a boyfriend. Have you met anybody who’s caught your attention lately?”

Anya knelt down and looked through the scope, taking your former place in the gun seat, “Nah. It’s not that important to me to get hitched right away. I wanna keep goin’ on adventures. I figure I oughta wait for somebody I can’t stand not havin’. Then, when I find ‘em, I’ll take ‘em.” She frowned at herself, as though doubtful, suddenly. Not an expression you saw Anya hold towards her own words often. “Your gunner’s cute, I guess. I’d like it better if he had longer hair.”

“Really,” you said, passing a hand through your own. Anya leaned over and ran her fingers through your hair, too. “You get to do it to me, but not me to you?”

“Shaddup,” Anya snapped, “You ought t’ grow it too. Even if it’s not like your uncle’s. Long and black. Just…so wild lookin’, so hot. You’ve got a scruffy head from your mom or somethin’. Grow it out so I can see what it’s like.”

“I’m already at the edge of army regulation as it is now,” you gave a soft rejection. For now. “When I want back and saw Hilda, she was doing alright. She’s having twins, apparently.”

“Twins? Damn,” Anya’s eyebrows raised, “Wonder if Crannick would’a been happy about that. Oh well. Not like that matters now. Your parents gonna keep her kids, then?”

“Hopefully we’ll be able to find her a husband,” you said, “I don’t know how we’re going to do that.”

“Find somebody who’s like you,” Anya said as though it were obvious.

“That might be easier said than done.” You couldn’t think of anybody you knew or trusted that was entirely like you, for better or worse. “She’s been getting some attention. From people I’d rather she not be seen by.”

“Like who?”

“Gerovic,” you said, “The Archduchy captured him and now he’s in their service. He’s been turned through…you know, the same thing I had done to me.”

“That fucked up your head?” Anya asked, though her eyes had turned to slits. “You know. If he’s a problem. I can just kill him.”

“…No, you can’t just kill him.”

“Yes I can. I will,” Anya said darkly, “I see him, I’ll shoot him dead on the spot.”

“He’s not our enemy anymore, though,” you said.

“…”

“He’s not worth the trouble,” you urged, “Don’t get yourself in trouble. For my sake and yours.”

“There won’t be any trouble as long as he doesn’t show his mug.”

You sighed, and gave the loaded cannon another look. Anya was paying attention to you instead of the gun. Might as well respect that. “So how can I get Maddalyn and you to be at least neutral with one another?”

“I don’t have a problem with her,” Anya said flatly, “Like I’ve told you. She’s the one who hates my guts. If she doesn’t treat me like a leper and start acting like a huge bitch then I won’t try and start shit.”

…Somehow, that sounded more difficult than if things were the other way around. “Your navel’s out again. So have you been able to do your training and workouts?”

“Some,” Anya said, “But I’ve had to eat less. It sucks. I’m hungry all the damn time. If I could just move more it’d be fine, but all I can do right now is stuff with my legs. Sit ups.” She sighed an airy, high pitched sigh, “…What’ll you have me doin’, anyways. Besides watching you marry a shrimpy little rich girl.”

“I need a secretary,” you said, partly as a joke, partly not, “Do you want to push papers again?”

“Eat my ass,” Anya flexed the fingers of her cast arm, “How much typing do you think I can do right now?”

“I do need competent assistance, though. I’ll be commanding a demi-battalion for the Von Blums.”

Anya knew what you were talking about, somehow, as far as what that entailed. “Then make me your executive. Your number two.”

“I can’t make a non-commissioned officer my executive officer,” you retorted.

“Your Senior Enlisted then. Command Sergeant Major. Can’t you get that? It’s your unit, for the family you’re marrying into. Who cares what anybody thinks.”

It wouldn’t look proper, but you could at least lean into it to make it happen. To make her an XO or even a platoon commander, you’d have to send your retinue to an Officer’s Academy for a year, to take the Accelerated NCO Training Courses. It wasn’t a decision to take lightly.

>Tell her that she can be your XO if she goes to school for a year. That’s the minimum requirement for a commission.
>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.
>Say that you need her as a platoon leader. Which means a commission. Which means a year in accelerated courses.
>Tell Anya that, as your retinue, she needn’t worry about petty things like command hierarchy or position. She would continue to act in your name, even if it was unofficial.
>Other?

She already knows you shot down a plane, and the war stories will come later. Also, yes, the beer and moonshine are in the tank.

>>5297373
>>No, there was no need to make this a competition.

>>5297377
>>Tell her that she can be your XO if she goes to school for a year. That’s the minimum requirement for a commission.

>>5297373
>No, there was no need to make this a competition.

>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.

We'll have plenty of competent officers, Anya can be our liason with the rank and file. Having someone with their finger on the pulse of the common soldiery would be useful.

>>5297373
>Accept the game of betting on who shoots better? (What do you bet, and what do you want if you win?)
What do you want and what do you got?

>>5297377
>Say that you need her as a platoon leader. Which means a commission. Which means a year in accelerated courses.

>>5297377
>Accept the game of betting on who shoots better? (What do you bet, and what do you want if you win?)
Part of me wants to gamble something funner and much, much more lewd but I feel this is what we need right now.

Gamble an adventure. It may not be comparable to what I want in exchange so I'll leave that more up to her.

You want something scary? I want Smitty to move to the Blumlands for a time and work on my tanks. I'm betting you a goddamn *Quest* Anya. Wouldn't have to be permanent, but if anyone knows what buttons to push and favors to ask it'd to get it done it would be Anya.

>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.
It's already murky with the Retinue angle but at least there she gets more freedom even if she won't get to really take charge of large numbers.
>>Other?
Genuinely ask her. While I think she is plenty good to command after her service both as Blind and in Ellowie she doesn't have the temperament off the battlefield. Especially in a very strict male hierarchal system such as Strossvald.

Explain to her the shit she'd have to put up with in the Academy, the people she wouldn't be allowed to hit or scream back at. Could she boil for an entire year? Even if it gave her the chance to prove them wrong and make her space in Strossvald? I don't think she wants it bad enough.

>>5297373
>No, there was no need to make this a competition.

>>5297377
>Tell her that she can be your XO if she goes to school for a year. That’s the minimum requirement for a commission.
WE'RE SENDING OUR GIRL TO COLEG!

>>5297377
>No, there was no need to make this a competition.
>Tell her that she can be your XO if she goes to school for a year. That’s the minimum requirement for a commission.
Frankly, I'm surprised the academy takes women. Don't think we've seen any female Strossvald officers around. Though I suppose we've heard of Von Tract women soldier ancestors.

Oh, the academy might also be a place to find her a partner. Probably not among the higher nobles, but maybe she finds attraction in one of the lower nobles that tend to be more down-to-earth. If tanq ever lets us successfully get another character in a loving relationship that is, maybe even one where they are at least attracted to each other.

>>5297377
>>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.
I think she is best suited to this position and anyone who thinks it's weird will be taught otherwise by her performance.

>>5297373
>>Accept the game of betting on who shoots better? (What do you bet, and what do you want if you win?)
I like our win condition from >>5297548, someone who has really been in the weeds of tank work would probably have a lot to share back in Strossvald. I'm not so sure about the general adventure for Anya, maybe it would have to come more as we would cover for her if she wanted to take an extended leave from her duties as the
>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.
I think XO may be a bad idea just with how much Anya is know to like getting in fights, whether in tanks or otherwise, and how she generally wants her freedom to still do things she wants to do personally. It will be a lot harder to get another XO than it will be to find another temporary toon leader if Anya wants some space from the army for a bit.

>>5297377
>No, there was no need to make this a competition.
>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.

Pretty sure Anya would rather have hands on role rather than management. For XO someone like Rondo would be a better fit.

>>5297377
>Accept the game of betting on who shoots better?
If we lose, we'll get her a date with Stein and something else of her chosing (that alone doesn't fell like enough compensation to me). If we win, she has to convince Smitty to come home for a while and collaborate with the Von Blum tank workshop.
>Senior Enlisted. Fine. She’d probably fit there best anyways, with how much trouble she liked to cause.

>>5297641
She's already a capable tanker and leader, and going to the academy will only make her better. I'd much rather her than whatever political appointment we'd get instead.

>>5297681
I definitely don't disagree, I just want to make sure Anya knows what she is getting in to with the XO position. She will have to play by Archduchy rules at least a little bit, unless maybe she would accept us bulldozing as many regulations and obligations to the best of our ability to be her stake in the bet which is a possibility I suppose.

>>5297701
Well, then I think the concern would be finding a way to get her to follow the regulations, or talking to her about it or something. Just going with the ">Senior Enlisted" vote will mean that she will not get the XO position and we likely get a political appointment instead.

>>5297712
>>5297701

Eh, I think we can probably appoint someone like Metzeler or Krause to be our XO if needed. Even if we get an 'outsider' so to speak it's a bit hypocritical to be worrying about a political appointee when Richter is one himself. I frankly doubt the Von Blums would dump people whom solely rely on their connections into our unit anyway.

>>5297735
We are a political appointment, but we have experience and renown. It makes sense we are where we are. And I'm not really sure we could get Metzeler or Krause, they both seem to be in different areas.

>>5297743
And by that same logic, whomever we might get even if it's partially or majorly politically motivated doesn't mean that they're going to be incompetent either.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5297384
>>5297388
>>5297556
>>5297614
Nyet

>>5297395
>>5297548
>>5297641
>>5297678
Ja

Well, gonna have to roll that one off. 1 for no bet, 2 for a bet. That you still have to win.

>>5297548
What is this hidden suggestion, anon. I won't judge. Though everybody else might.

>>5297395
Platoon Leader, for the odd one out.

>>5297384
>>5297556
>>5297614
XO- your right hand. Just about as abused, at least, though not nearly as well acquainted with your privates

>>5297388
>>5297548
>>5297622
>>5297641
>>5297669
>>5297678
Senior Enlisted. Less controversial- a position to do dirty work and advise both.

Writing.

>>5297614
>Frankly, I'm surprised the academy takes women. Don't think we've seen any female Strossvald officers around. Though I suppose we've heard of Von Tract women soldier ancestors.
Normally, they don't- but exceptions are made for class. Does the daughter of a territorial lord want to have a place in the local structure? They can get in. Does somebody of relative importance have a favored female retinue that they want to go through things? Then they have a space. The politics and class have a weight that can offset the societal norm. This happening is rare, though. Most female retinue remain non-commissioned, and the Von Trachts aren't an exception.
Though for them in particular it's partially because few of them survived long enough.

>>5297758
No, it doesn't, but they're much more likely to be incompetent, especially in comparison to Anya.

>>5297989
And why are you so sure in the first place that
1. That person is going to be a political appointee and
2. The person has a strong chance of being incompetent?

>>5297993
I guess we don't have a ton of reason to suspect political appointees, but most political appointees are incompetent because they were chosen for the position because of politics rather than merit. There are exceptions, but I would normally expect someone chosen by merit to be a stronger choice.

>>5297998
Fair enough on the second point, I just disagree that our father-in-law would dump that kind of person on us.

>>5298002
That's exactly what he would do, to monitor us.

>>5297857
Damn.

F

“…What would you prefer?” You asked first, though you had a solid idea of what would be best, “Becoming an executive officer at the bare minimum requires an officer’s commission, and the fastest way you could get that is by going to a military academy in Strossvald and taking the Accelerated NCO Officer Training courses, which takes about a year. During that time, you’ll be around mostly men, and nobility.” Almost exclusively men. Infrequently, the daughters of martially inclined lords went to military academy, but they rarely were destined to serve anywhere but in their own territories anyways. More importantly, Anya was no noble. She wasn’t even of a respectable class. She was the bastard daughter of a prostitute, and if anybody found that out… “You’d need to control yourself. You can’t hit anybody, shout at anybody, you just have to take what comes at you. Can you do that for a year, and prove anybody who doubts you wrong?”

“’Course I can,” Anya said with a snort, “…What, don’t I have the right to wear a medal in Strossvald now? Who’d screw with me and not expect to get socked?”

“I don’t want you to be isolated and surrounded by powerful enemies, Anya,” you said, “I don’t doubt you could do the work, but…anyways. I thought you’d be happier with Command Sergeant Major instead. The Executive Officer has to do a lot of administrative work. The Senior Enlisted gets more freedom, works more in the field. You’re not impartial to that now, are you?”

Anya tipped her chin down and pouted. “Well, I ain’t just gonna do it ‘cause it’s easier. What if I went to the academy anyways?”

“…I don’t see the point in that if you’re to be my senior enlisted. I didn’t mean it as a challenge.”

“Fine,” Anya rolled her eyes and puffed out her chest, “Speakin’ of challenges…you wanna roll those dice on this gunnery match?”

You had to think about that, and rested your head on your knuckles. There was something you wanted from Anya, but…what would she think was a fair exchange? You had a few ideas, but ultimately…

“…No, let’s just do this for fun,” you said, “I’ve had enough betting on whether a gun hits a target or not for a while.”

Anya blinked. “That didn’t seem like an easy answer. What were you thinkin’ about?”

“I was going to make you drag Stein’s sister with the Iron Hogs back to the Blumlands with us,” you said, “And if I lost instead…I don’t know, maybe I would set you up on a date with my gunner or something. Or maybe some special adventure just for you.”

Anya wrinkled her nose at you. “Pfeh. Nah. I said your gunner was cute, he’s not my type, though. I’m not that shallow, looks aren’t everything. I’d date him to steal dinner, not to suck him off.” She grasped onto the turret’s manual turn crank, then looked down at the shawl at the same time as the crank. “Oh…fucking shit. Damn it…”

“What?”

Anya sat back up and examined the shawl closer. “Fuckin’ stupid-ass…I got grease and dust and shit all over this…” She seemed…actually distressed. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright,” you said, picking at a corner to look closer, “It can be washed. It’s white, so it can be bleached if something doesn’t come off.” At least, that’s how you thought it might be. You weren’t an expert on cleaning different fabrics.

“I hope so,” Anya murmured as she undid the neck and shuffled the shawl off. “It’s not that chilly, at least,” she tossed the shawl towards you. “There’s a metal box at the bottom behind the radio operator’s seat for effects, put that down there.”

Down it went- and you didn’t peep in the box, much as you were tempted to, as it was already occupied. Though you thought you might have seen a photo in a rough steel frame…a large group of some sort.

“Pick the target, then,” Anya said.

“…I want to look for something, actually,” you said, “I remember there being an m/28-13 type in this battle somewhere. It had distinctive paint on the turret.”

File: tcqscene203.png (1.97 MB, 1100x1254)

1.97 MB PNG

“The one with the tits?” That certainly was the most distinctive one. You nodded. Anya smirked at you. “Hey, I thought those ones were too big for your taste.”

“It’s not a matter of what my taste is,” you said. After all, a set that fit your tastes happened to be right here in this tank. “I just want to show you around the battle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anya leaned against the turret, one arm lazily cast on the edge, “Pick one here first. I want to fuck up the rest of what’s here first.”

“Alright. That one with the small turret. I want to see if you can tear off enough of it to make it fall off.”

-----

As you drove on to the next set of tanks, you told Anya about what had gone on with the unit since she’d been wounded and forced to depart from the front.

“When we crossed up into Ellowie,” you said, “The Netillian Militarists were in disarray. In full retreat, and we were chasing them down, though they didn’t make it easy. They knew their turf, and were biding their time for a proper counterattack. Though the Netillian Republicans foiled their plans for that before they could attack us, or the Republic troops. They did let the Ellowians bear the brunt of the counteroffensive, though.” You thought of who had related the plans of such to you. “Oh, right. I saw Magnus. He was alive and well. He told me of the plans, right after I had dealt with one of the Netillian tank aces. A man called Crown Taker.”

“Decent name,” Anya said, though she had tried to interrupt when you mentioned the knight. “…You went after an ace? Not by yourself, you’d better not have.”

“I went with my platoon,” you said, “…It wasn’t quite enough. My platoon leader, Vehrlors, he and the ace killed each other in the duel. I was hoping I’d take out Crown Taker, but…he was the one who wanted that man’s head more, anyways.”

“Then he got what he wanted,” Anya said plainly, “Don’t feel too sad about it. That’s a good way to go. That’s how I’d want to go.”

“Hopefully not before you get married and have some children.”

“Whatever.” Anya said in a tone that told you she wasn’t thinking of prioritizing that over a dramatic end. “Tell me how- Hey, I see the tank. Half right, head one fifty meters, we’ll have a good position on it.”

“Roger,” you said, and changed course. “How the duel went?”

“Yeah. You didn’t find him, huh.”

“I fought with his apprentice, or his partner, or something,” you said, “He was good too. Had a heavy tank of a type I’d only run from before. I probably only won because I had the help of Planckner.”

“Who?”

“A republic tank commander,” you said, then frowned, “You don’t remember him? He was in your platoon the day we met. He said you two had a date.” One where Anya had merely bummed dinner off of him before leaving him in the dust.

“Oh, that guy,” Anya said, “He didn’t seem that good when I knew him.”

“Anyways, we…maybe I ought to tell this from the beginning. I’m all over the place.”

So you told the whole thing, gradually, after you got up to a vantage point and picked out targets, interrupting the tale with cannon blasts every so often. Eventually, you finally got to the end, where Magnus descended on an autogyro to meet with you and the platoon.

“He wanted to know how you were doing,” you said, “And where your hometown was. I think he might have intended on visiting.” Anya bit her lip and glowered at the horizon, before suddenly leaning for the gun and firing it off. It was a missed shot, but you doubted she had a target, anyways, as you recoiled in surprise, covering your ears. “Would you not do that?” you demanded.

“Psh.” Anya sat back again, “That war up north’s still going on, isn’t it.”

“Last that I heard, yes. I can’t imagine it going on much longer.”

Anya said nothing to that. “Hey, load another shot. And get another couple bottles of that beer.”

You passed her the beer first, after you’d gotten it from down in the hull. “You know,” you said, “I’ve been thinking, now that my time…well, my first time, at least, with the Silver Lances is over. I want to write a book. Compile theory based off what I’ve learned, and research on what I’ve forgotten. To make something that matters, so people can learn from me in some other way than those smut books.”

“Hm,” Anya grunted as she opened the bottle on the rim of the turret and took a long, heavy pull. “Y’want help?”

“I certainly wouldn’t turn it down,” you said, “Especially since you know of more…unorthodox tank tactics. I want to write this book to provide an alternative. A better one, to the present Archduchy theory of the Battle Line.”

“Might help if I go to that Academy to learn about that, then.”

Still on that, was she? “You’d have to wear the Academy Uniform precisely as required.”

“Betcha you’d give me special permission to wear it a good way,” Anya teased as she pointed the half empty beer’s top at you, before touching it to her lips again, then taking it away with a solemn look in her eyes. “Hey, I didn’t say, but…thanks for not dying out there. I…really appreciate it.”

“I don’t break my promises,” you said, with an allowance of pride.

“Anyways. Load up that cannon again.”

“We don’t have many shots left,” you said as you knelt down, “Only eight left.”

“Then we’ll ram ‘em once we’re out.”

>Tell Anya about anything else that’s happened?
Also-
>Do anything else while you’re out?
>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.
>Other?

>>5298841
>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.

>>5298841
Hot damn Anya, who are you dressing to impress?

>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.
Get Anya to say goodbye to her sister before we go
Ask if she'd like to meet Richter's dad one of these days and swap stories about Hell Gitt.

Lewd bet would've just been another game of Vier-Sechs(?). Strip Vier-Sechs.

>>5298841
>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.

>>5298841
>>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.

>>5298836
>She really wanted to go to the academy and didn't mind the paper pushing position
>We didn't care and shut her down and put her in a worse position that is less helpful to us
You did it anons, great job. You got us a less capable XO but at least you were very considerate for what Anya wanted. Oh wait.

>>5298841
>Head back and turn in for the night. Next morning you had to be up early to get back as soon as possible.
So it still sounds like Anya's partial to going to the academy. Can we vote for her to go still? Or are people dead set on her not going?

>>5299058
We didn't forbid her from going to the academy, did we?

>>5299074
We did according to the recent update. I would very much like her to go, myself.

>>5299077
I'm all for the Misfit of the Tank Officer Academy storyline.

>>5298851
>>5298900
>>5298971
>>5298977
>>5299058
Head on back. Hope for a guest bed.
Nah you're going on the floor.
Make sure familial relations remain in a decent state.

Writing.

>>5299058
>Can we vote for her to go still? Or are people dead set on her not going?
I can put another one up, though sending her off for a year to a program meant to turn capable enlisted into commissioned officers (albeit at nobility dominated institutions) only to have her come right back into an enlisted position anyways is a tad odd from a practical standpoint.
Though it does mean that a commissioned position is qualified for in the future, should one be desired then.

>>5299058
I for one do not want her to go off to the academy, if only for the fact that if she does then she won't be helping us in the Blumlands, the whole reason we went to go get her. Her expertise in tank tactics and value with the rank and file is way more helpful than dubious utility in class politics. She'll be miserable for an entire year sucking up to bluebloods, I don't want her to be miserable.

Besides she already said she wants to keep adventuring if she wasn't with us. Why would she stick in Strossvald otherwise? Become an officer in their army?

>>5299452
Her expertise is precisely why I want her to go to the academy. Her ability to be our XO will help us much more than her being a Senior Enlisted, it has nothing to do with class politics. If anything, this would hurt our class politics, since we have a commoner in a command position.

In the end, you both went back with the tank after you had four shots left. Just in case- because Anya agreed with you that tempting a fate where you actually needed ammunition for the 4.7 centimeter cannon was not worth further pummeling wrecked vehicles that had already been thoroughly and redundantly perforated. It wasn’t quite dark when you returned, but the sun had almost vanished, and Lark’s new gas light infrastructure was putting in good work in regards to allowing you to even attempt to navigate a tank through a town at night.

“Alina isn’t back yet,” Anya said with a disgruntled huff after the tank was turned off, watching you close the doors of the makeshift garage again to lock everything up. “Guess it’s canned hash for dinner.”

“You at least have a stove, don’t you?” You asked- this cottage was humble, but it was hardly a lean-to shanty town hovel.

“’Course. This is a house, not an Hourglass den,” Anya said, with a wave of her free hand, “Get that shawl for me, will you? I’ll go start the thing.”

The “thing” was an old but well maintained wood stove, with a pipe out the top of the home. Hardly a fireplace, and rather small, but it would warm the room, at least. A few candles were lit, and Anya was squatted in front of the oven arranging tinder when you came with the clothing that your driver had gifted her.

“Set it on top a’ somethin’,” Anya said without looking, “Just not somewhere any ash or shit’ll get on it.”

The table nearby with a pair of plain wooden chairs with small cushions on them would do, you thought. Though something was already set on top of it- and you squinted skeptically at it. “I thought you hated the movie of the other one.” It was the second book in the series- Brutality and Beauty-Second Dream.

“My sister and her friends are reading that bunch,” Anya said, “She lent me it. Talks about how her and I know the real person.”

“What did you tell them?” you asked warily.

“I didn’t wanna talk about you with ‘em,” Anya said flatly, “Like I said. They don’t get it.”

“Who is this supposed to be, anyways?” You pointed to the warrior woman on the cover, “I know who the other two are supposed to be, of the books I’ve seen. I don’t know who this is.”

“Oh, her,” Anya looked back over her shoulder, “Uh…I don’t think she was a real person. I knew somebody with the same name as she’s got in that book, but she got killed when all the shit went down in Todesfelsen. Not my friend or anything. Broad named Rosa that got her head blown off. I think the writer mixed her with one of the leaders who went out to fight you, whose tank we probably shot the shit out of.”

“I see.” Your interest in the book was much less, considering that this was a fictionalization within a fiction, of somebody you wouldn’t have even known. “Do you want to meet with my father again, when we head back?” Not that you’d be leaving Anya there- Gerovic was hanging around with Hilda, and Anya had made it very clear that she intended to shoot him on sight- wherever she was hiding any of various weapons. You’d learned well in Ellowie that Anya was never unarmed. “Talk about Heller with him some, at least? Just along the way.”

“…Sure,” Anya said hesitantly, “Yeah. That’d be cool. See if he’s…got anything of his I can have. Hell’s dead. I’m over that. It’d just be nice, y’know.”

She wasn’t that enthusiastic, but maybe she was just tired, you considered as you sat on a stool and watched Anya carve open a can of diced meat and potatoes- it had colorful labeling like it had come from a city market, and you wondered just how far it had wandered- and pour into a cast iron pan before setting it atop the flame. Anya didn’t know how to cook, but anybody could heat meat and potatoes. Well. Anybody that didn’t think a flame was some sort of sorcery, at least.

“Something else,” you said, “When we were talking about the appointment you wanted…even if you aren’t the executive officer, did you still want to attend the academy? You don’t have to take a commission.” Even if there was very little reason not to. “I don’t want to be in your way if you really want to go there.”

“Will you be good if I do that?” Anya asked you coolly, “A year, you said. Are you fine with me being away for a year?” She tapped on her cast arm with a finger, “I won’t be able to fight for a while. The surgeons your guys had that put me back together, they said this’ll take a year, maybe, to heal up all the way. I don’t want t’ sit around and do nothin’ for all of that. If goin’ to school makes me better without havin’ to be dragged away from a fight, I’ll…try to make it work. I’ll probably get into fights, I can’t help it, but I’ll try. But.” She pointed subtly, “That’s only if you think you can do without me for a year. Which I don’t know. I’d like t’ go, Richter. But it’s not more important to me than keeping you from getting the other half of your face knocked off. Got it?”

“I can do fine,” you said, “There’s no combat operations planned in the short term.”

“You know what I mean.” Anya said stonily.

The door opened then, and you heard Alina’s voice call. “Anya? Are you here?”

“Yeah!” Anya called back, “I’ve got Fairy Boy here stayin’ the night.”

Alina’s accent was different from Anya’s, you had to note upon hearing them call to each other, though you imagined that that was because Anya tried to speak like Hell…unless there was somebody else with a Strosstadt accent in her life. Anya’s younger sister came around, wearing a light coat and a long dress, a handbag at her side and her hair braided in the back. She took off the jacket, and under it she had a top much like Anya was wearing- though it showed no stomach, and was green. Anya had presumably modified hers.

“You should have told me you’d have friends over, Anya,” Alina said as she laid her jacket over the chair opposite of you. “Hello, Richter,” she said to you with a smile, “Look at you, you have Anya trying to cook for you.”

“He certainly can’t do it himself,” Anya said without looking.

“I came here to pick her up,” you said, “I need my retinue to come back. She’s just too useful for me to leave here.” As well as this place being too idle.

Alina’s smile faded a little, but she closed her eyes and kept it up. “I suppose it was going to happen sometime, but Anya, you haven’t been home very long at all…”

“It’s been about three weeks,” Anya said, “You’re lucky I haven’t gotten into trouble.”

“About that,” Alina’s tone shifted, “The patrol soldiers here said that you went out with your machine and shot its cannon about. It caused some alarm. They asked you not to do it again.”

“Wish granted,” Anya said, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Don’t break the door in your hurry to go…” Alina grumbled sorely, before looking back to you. “How have you been?”

“I’m alive,” you said, “Our part in the fighting up north has ended, so the Silver Lances all went home.”

“Is Stevan doing well?” Alina asked.

“I haven’t checked,” you admitted.

“Well, next you see him, will you give him a letter?” Alina asked, “I understand that he’s not in a state to visit, surely, but whenever he recovers, I’d like to have him over here.”

“Not you over there?” You asked.

Alina shook her head. “I want to stay here, even if what he talked about of the Archduchy sounds fascinating. Lark is my home.” She sat down in the chair she had been standing by, “So where will you be taking Anya, then? Far away?”

“Not right off,” you said, “I’m getting married in a few weeks, and then I’m to take charge of a new unit that’s being formed by my wife to be’s family, in the territory of the Blumlands. We’ll be staying out of any fighting for a good bit.”

“Well, good. Anya’s in no state to fight, no matter what she might say.”

“Bite me,” Anya snapped from by the stove.

“What do you think of her outfit?” Alina asked quietly, “A few adjustments had to be made for her, but, it feels nice for us to match like this.”

You reserved any comment about fashion for now. “There’s something else,” you said, “I’ve been mulling over sending Anya to a military academy, so that she can have the option of taking an officer’s position. They’re paid handsomely, in Strossvald, and she can take a year-long program to get her an easy road to it, given her experience and her status as a retinue.”

“I think she should do it,” Alina said, as she reached for a small pot on the table. “Do you like herbal tea? This one has ginger in it, I’m fond of it, and Anya will have it if it’s got enough honey in it.”

“We’re out of that,” Anya said.

“I got more.” Alina said back, “it’s been much easier lately, with how much money she’s come into.”

“Way easier since you actually take it.”

Alina glanced a scathing half-lidded glare. “She should go to that school, though. It’d be the best for her. Maybe enough time spent learning will make her think about things besides going and getting shot up. Maybe she’ll even find a man…and I can stop worrying after her.”

It was a safe future investment…but you weren’t sure that was what Anya wanted out of this. Her concern was more over if you would be fine with keeping her away for that long…

>It was for the better, and everybody seemed to want it to happen. Why not? Your retinue would be getting an official education, then.
>Was it selfish to keep Anya to yourself? Maybe a little. But she didn’t need to be stuck in classrooms for a year to be useful to you. She was as good as you could ask for just the way she was.
>Other?
Also, of course, if you want to talk about anything with the sister, she’s right there.

>>5299457
Help us when? A year from now? Anon we might be fighting giraffe ghosts in Caelus a year from now. In the event we will need her help she won't be available for it. especially since the Next Big One seems just around the corner
Her ability as XO just allows her to command the demi-battalion in case we bite it. We already have perfectly capable officers we can rely on if we need them. This just seems like a way to get rid of Anya for awhile.

>>5299572
>>Was it selfish to keep Anya to yourself? Maybe a little. But she didn’t need to be stuck in classrooms for a year to be useful to you. She was as good as you could ask for just the way she was.

>>5299572
>>Was it selfish to keep Anya to yourself? Maybe a little. But she didn’t need to be stuck in classrooms for a year to be useful to you. She was as good as you could ask for just the way she was.
>Other?
Ask Alina what word from the Republic is about the war and how stable the nation seems. Is there lots of enthusiasm? If there's lots of civic participation that would be a good sign.

File: rounded face.png (4.6 MB, 3296x1240)

4.6 MB PNG

>>5299572
>It was for the better, and everybody seemed to want it to happen. Why not? Your retinue would be getting an official education, then.

>>5298840
tanq, great job as always. Here's something else I noticed. You usually draw more of the side of the face the nose is pointing to rather than the other way around. If you switched this, the drawings should have a more realistic look.

>>5299572
>It was for the better, and everybody seemed to want it to happen. Why not? Your retinue would be getting an official education, then.
She is out of action with that broken arm. She will probably throw herself at anything. It will also give a nice reality check to the people enrolling in the military academy.

>>5299573
>Help us when? A year from now?
Yes, a year from now. Things are looking rather peaceful actually in the short time.

>Anon we might be fighting giraffe ghosts in Caelus a year from now.
That is rather the point, yes. This will allow us to have her by our side in the most effective manner when Caelus presumably comes in force perhaps a year from now.
>In the event we will need her help she won't be available for it.
I guess, but I don't find it super likely we will in less than a year.

>Her ability as XO just allows her to command the demi-battalion in case we bite it.
And also in our absence for any number of potential reasons, which is important. But it's also not all that being XO does, it puts her in a position of more responsibility and more use to us.

>We already have perfectly capable officers we can rely on if we need them.
Not necessarily, we don't know for sure any of our officers yet.

>This just seems like a way to get rid of Anya for awhile.
It's an investment into making Anya not only more capable, but also closer to us and higher up in command. There's also the point that she won't be super useful for nearly a year anyways, and this takes advantage of that time well where otherwise she might be sitting around doing nothing, or at least something of much less value.

>>5299572
>It was for the better, and everybody seemed to want it to happen. Why not? Your retinue would be getting an official education, then.

>>5299572

>It was for the better, and everybody seemed to want it to happen. Why not? Your retinue would be getting an official education, then.
Personally, I want Anya to get an education!

>>5299572
>>Was it selfish to keep Anya to yourself? Maybe a little. But she didn’t need to be stuck in classrooms for a year to be useful to you. She was as good as you could ask for just the way she was.
I don't think Anya would actually enjoy being at the academy, I think she would just get frustrated by the academic aspect of it and all the snotty nobility. Plus I would much rather have her as a senior NCO than as an officer. The XO creates plans for the unit but it's the senior NCO that makes sure the unit actually executes the plans and keeps it from falling apart in the field. The former position can be filled by any newly graduated officer with half a brain in his head, but the latter requires someone with guts and experience. I just don't see the point of sending her away for a year to have her do the job she's less suited for.

>>5299572
>Was it selfish to keep Anya to yourself? Maybe a little. But she didn’t need to be stuck in classrooms for a year to be useful to you. She was as good as you could ask for just the way she was.

>>5299699
This basically, in my view the SNCO role is actually harder to fill than the XO one considering the usual profile of members in that role (i.e. people with plenty of years in service).

There's plenty of officers that can do the job as a second in command, how many enlisted people do we know and trust that can fill the unit Sergeant Major role? Just because it's not an officer position doesn't make it somehow unimportant, you need both good officers and NCOs to run a unit well.

>>5299727
Even if we're to believe we'd rather have her as SNCO, there is still the value in giving her the academy training, and productively using her time for the 1 year she is out of service. She will come out better equipped to serve under us, in whatever capacity that may entail, and won't be able to do much for us before then anyways.