“Two One One owes me twenty bags,” another Erdan, Two One Three, complained as he laid a confident bet on the table- it was hard to tell expressions with your masks on, but he must have had a good hand of cards. “He took that magazine with him, and I can’t find it in his things. Bet he has it on him now.”

“Maybe we ought to try and sneak out and get it,” a member of that Erdan’s squad murmured, his hand seeming to be a load of crap.

“Sneak out into Shadow territory,” you scoffed, “What sort of magazine could it be to be worth doing that on your own?”

“A girly magazine,” One Three whispered loudly, “One of the supply people gave it to me, said it was for finding that old pot a few outings back. An East Valsten one, beaches and boats.”
Everybody stared. There were no women here. Only sometimes, the small red haired one, who mostly tended to any of the wounded who went up, but sometimes came down here. You felt you ought to know who Maddalyn Von Blum was, but there was…emptiness. Otherwise, as far as females went, there was only the voices- and the dreams.

“Any of them that look like…her?” One of your squad members asked. About the woman that haunted everybody’s memories, sometimes, dreams. All of you knew her…hoped she was real. Searched for images, carved them, scrawled them from memory.

“No,” One Three sighed, “They’re all clean. Unmarked. No harm on their bodies. Still, though.” He looked around. “Call ‘em.”

“Fold.”

“Fold.”

“Fold.”

Half the table folded right there, though you held yours. “Speaking of,” you said, “Any of you have any more…dreams?” She was shared amongst you. She bound you together. All of you wanted to have as much time with her as you could…

One Three clicked his tongue as he reviewed his cards. “No. Not in weeks. It’d be nice to.”

Your squadmate, Two Two Five, hesitated with his answer. “I dreamt that I kissed her.”

That prompted a dismissive scoff from most. Complete bullshit.

“You did not,” another man snapped, more offended rather than dismissive. Not an Erdan- he was a Dieter. “Don’t make up that sort of thing.”

“Like you haven’t thought about it,” Two Two Five snapped back heatedly, “It’s just a dream, not a memory. Or maybe it was, huh? Are you jealous?”

“Shouldn’t think about her that way.” Dieter One One Nine slapped his hands on the table, rocking the bets about.

“Knock it off,” One Three said coolly, “She wants you happy. If that means you jerk it to her once or twice, who cares. Just don’t tell her, right?”

“She watches over us,” the Dieter sat back down, but still sounded mad, “She protects us. When we meet her again, she would know of your impiety…”

“I think she’d like it,” Two Two Five protested, “Who are you dreaming of? Not her, by the sounds-“

“Stop,” you advised your squadmate, who fell quiet. Back to the table, you looked. “Let’s do this.”

You laid your hand down, and so did the other two betters. A twinge of regret, as Two One Three obliterated the other two hands, and he confidently swept up your bets, and the antes from before.

“Heh heh,” One Three laughed to himself, “No teatime for you people. Guess you’ll have to make do with coffee.”

An unthinkable option- none even came down here, so reviled was coffee.

-----

A couple walked hand in hand in the Imperial city of Ysenhof- one was of the Reich’s military, the other, formerly of Halmeggia’s. One was a war hero in his country- the other, a war criminal in hers. One twenty five years old, the other nineteen.

Reinhold and Eidan were on a date for the first time in entirely too long. The fighting in Netilland had wound down after the battle outside their capital- a hell of a scuffle, but Major Reinhold Roth-Vogel had managed to keep his men out of too much trouble. The Ellowians and Netillians had been allowed the honor of kicking the absolute shit out of one another, while his unit had sped about and cut where they could. That war wasn’t over-but it was for him and his people. They left their tanks with Mittelsosalia, and came home, where newer tanks would be waiting for the now blooded troopers.

The KT-30 was a nice machine. Yet Reinhold was nostalgic for his old Luftpanzer II. Ah, to return to those times…they held as much joy as they held bitter tragedy.

The first thing he had done was to go and pay respects to his fallen friend Dolcherr. His best friend. His guardian angel, surely. Whose death was the greatest, most painful regret. Then, his girlfriend. Who he had ambushed in the apartment they cohabited the day before.

“Let’s go to the carnival and get on the great wheel,” Eidan said as she tugged on Reinhold’s hand, “You haven’t been up high in a while, have you?”

“Been seasick plenty,” he replied, “Sure. The one with the closed cars, yeah?”

Eidan half-closed her eyes in a glare. “At least warn me this time.”

“You weren’t against doing dirty stuff in there before,” Reinhold smirked at the Halmeggian girl. “Nothing that won’t rock the thing too much, at least.”

“…I was thinking,” Eidan said as she pulled Reinhold forward, “What if you got me pregnant?”

Reinhold’s smile melted off his face. “You said you were safe.”

“You didn’t ask until after,” Eidan said crossly, referring to the events of the other day, “You didn’t even let me take my clothes off.”

“But it was a safe day?”

“Yes.” Eidan huffed, “But…I don’t know. Are you planning on…marrying me?”

Reinhold’s smirk was now far, far away. “That’s pretty damn fast. What’s got you in a hurry? You’re plenty young.” Maybe too young, to be honest. The subject made him feel a bit dirty, but he had been the one sought out, not the other way around.

“I’m wanted in Halmeggia, Reinhold,” Eidan said uncomfortably, “I’ve heard my father’s enemies have…something. Something they can use to drag me back, and…I don’t know if they can have me sent back.”

“Relax,” Reinhold reached under Eidan’s hair and stroked the nape of her neck, “I’m not intending on letting you go soon.”

She was nonplussed by the affection. “That’s what I mean. Not soon, but, when? The Dhegyar girl got in my face when I was out early today. She thinks she can wait me out.”

“I’ll talk to Linda about it again,” Reinhold sighed, moving to stroke his girl’s hair, grown out some since he’d left before. “Look, I don’t know. That’s still a while away. I just got back. Let’s enjoy ourselves a bit, yeah? I’ve had to deal with enough shit lately. You know exactly how it is.”

“I do know,” Eidan said sharply, “But…I don’t want to be kept waiting. Not with the world like it’s going.”

“I’ll take care of you, honey,” Reinhold tried to reassure her, “Don’t worry about people trying to get you. Nobody’s coming after this man’s girl, current or prior. Don’t you feel trapped with me, you get it?”

“I’m not trapped,” Eidan replied, “Just make up your mind.”

“We’ve got plenty of time.”

“I hope you’re right,” Eidan said as she leaned into his chest.

Reinhold couldn’t help but notice, as he passed some places. The prices of foodstuffs seemed to have crept up again…

-----

The past couple weeks had been a strange mix of labor and relaxation. The preparations for your wedding were there, as well as the organization of the new unit you were to command, but there were plenty of days where you were completely free- days you spent some of on trips, and others, merely reading, with your fiancée either on your lap or pushed up next to you on the same seat, reading something different.

You are Major Richter Von Tracht, and things were…unsettlingly good. Maddalyn had still not opened up to you about anything you were truly concerned about- but she had allowed you into a section of the facilities you were normally barred from. A place for medical treatment- an explanation for why she had to often spend entire days away from you. The answer was treating mysterious wounds of the template soldiers- apparently trained on missions down below the surface. Looking for…whatever could be found.

Wouldn’t soulbinders take exception to this, you had asked Maddalyn. Yes, they would, if they found out, was the answer. However, the depths of the world were not a place where one was likely to encounter those who would interfere with life on the surface.

It still made you uneasy. As did many things. Yet those would have their time.

When Maddalyn had a couple of days to herself- a pause to operations underground, for one reason or another- you took her to see Von Metzeler and his new wife. Unlike last time, she was actually in attendance to your meeting, though Maddalyn asked for her temporary absence when she sensed something, in regards to your queries to ways to aid Von Metzeler in recovering from the condition you had moved past. The aftereffects of having the strange conditioning removed from both of you.

Maddalyn had no answer to that. Yet she did notice an oddity- a mark. Which…she was able to remove.

“You can destroy them?” you asked Maddalyn, skeptically, considering a prior excuse she had used.

“Richter…” she pouted at you and sulked, “Please…”

Fine. No need to badger her over deception she had already apologized for. Though who had marked Von Metzeler- and why? Surely Yva, but the why was unclear. Von Metzeler had no explanation either.

Klaudia Von Schneeberg was unusually quiet- though when she and Maddalyn were together, leaving you and Von Metzeler to one another, Maddalyn told you that she was most certainly not a mute.

Back to the Blumlands within the day. Things proceeded plainly- until four days from the wedding.

For that was when an intrusion into your dreams decided to show itself again.

Once again, falling through a whorl of fog, until you found yourself standing on a sea of nothing,

On one side, the Door of the World’s Memories. You were not told- you simply knew. It glowed harshly, whilst beside it was the Door of Ghosts, which sparkled in darkness like a night sky. Offerings from the Demiphantom- despite it not speaking, not appearing. They called- but you stood still. For did you truly want to see beyond them..?

>Go through the Door of Ghosts. You wanted to find one who had passed…(Who?)
>The Door of the World’s Memories invited you. Despite what had happened last time. Perhaps you could do better this time…(When and Where?)
>Sit on the ground and wait. You were taking no gifts, no offerings, no favors. Naught waited beyond those doors that you needed to see or hear.
>Other?

File: Spoiler Image (858 KB, 1522x1965)

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

I rendered out all the swimsuit drawings- full size versions are on the twitter, but for those allergic to such sites, I'm putting all four here.
Sorry about being so late with the thread- took a while to get back into the drive of things, but we should be all hands on deck now.

>>5352914
>Other?
Talk with the demiphantom.

>>5352912
>Yet Reinhold was nostalgic for his old Luftpanzer II
>nostalgic for Luftpanzer
>LUFTPANZER II
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

>>5352918
>correct Pact
This is where we vote, right?

>>5352914
>Sit on the ground and wait. You were taking no gifts, no offerings, no favors. Naught waited beyond those doors that you needed to see or hear.
If someone makes a good argument for one of the others, I'll change my vote. For now, I'll stick with caution.

>>5352914
>Sit on the ground and wait. You were taking no gifts, no offerings, no favors. Naught waited beyond those doors that you needed to see or hear.
The last time we played with the doors, it turned into a mess with Richter getting possessed. We were also warned not to do this kind of thing again, and the Demiphantom is decidedly hostile to us. I want nothing to do with these shenanigans, we don't need these tainted services.

>>5352914
>Other?
Let's snoop around the emptiness for any signs of a note back from Uncle Hell.

>>5352914
>>Go through the Door of Ghosts. You wanted to find one who had passed…(Need to go visit Hell while we still can.)

>>5352914
>Sit on the ground and wait. You were taking no gifts, no offerings, no favors. Naught waited beyond those doors that you needed to see or hear.

>>5352926
Have a chat with this thing with many faces and none.

>>5352948
>>5352983
>>5353122
Wait it out. These portals are traps.

>>5353002
Look around- see if anybody's trying to talk.

>>5353022
Look for Hell. Maybe you'll find it. Him.

Writing.

>>5352948
>>LUFTPANZER II
>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Technically Luftpanzer Quest was in actuality Luftpanzer II quest. The Luftpanzer One was an experiment that was phased out in favor of the more versatile Two, since rather than having proper tank cannon, it used a heavy machine gun and had a crew of two. A much more primitive platform with the focus on seeing what it took to make a tank air-mobile.
Their primary use has been as test platforms for ADR and potential parachute deployment rather than seeing any battle.

“No thanks,” you sat down cross-legged the best you could while standing on nothing. It was easy as long as you didn’t look down to see what was going on. “You’ll need to bait me better than that.” You could wait this out. You’d take no gifts, no offerings, no favors from this alien creature. It was trapped- you knew it was. You’d gone and inspected its prison, and everything was secure and safe…and should be, for however long Poltergeist took to decide to actually claim this thing, hopefully sooner rather than later. “You hear me out there?” You tried to engage the demiphantom, perhaps it would speak to you instead of tempting.

No response.

“Hello? Well of Souls, or whatever you are?”

Nothing.

“Then keep your secrets,” you scowled, and looked around. Last you deigned to speak to ghosts, you tried to let a note to the entirely imaginary wind, hoping it would find your long passed uncle, when you had decided to stay with Viska instead of pursuing him. Perhaps, if he was in this void, and what you did had more meaning than pretend..?

After getting up and looking around, you weren’t surprised, but were disappointed, to find nothing besides the swirl of muted color and cloud that was all around. Though, you did find…you were moving away from the doors. They always faced you, but you could retreat from them.

This attempt to both search and draw away yielded no fruit, but when the world fell away again, you could at least take comfort that you would wake up yourself, rather than anybody else…

-----

The wheel of history continues to turn.

War continues north of the Archduchy, as Almizea and Plisseau each fail to gain the easy and swift victory imagined. Conflict begins to come to a close, as the capital of Netilland, Berkesseburg, is taken first by an Ellowian Exile offensive, and then forced out by Netillian Republicans. A ceasefire is arranged between the two parties after the swift and bloody days, but both continue to fight against the waning Militarists. The Twaryians grow stronger, their armies preparing, but not on the wary border of the Ellowian Kingdom, whose new king now meets with the Republic in exile, whose weary army still prepares for more fighting as they march towards a home they would not recognize.

The Republic of Mittelsosalia issues an ultimatum to the free territories to its east- the remnants of old Sosaldt. Join the Republic willingly, or be made to capitulate under force of arms. Many do. Many decide to resist, despite the Republic’s reputation. The new conflict is not called a war- though those fighting in it could claim it one.

In the Archduchy, a call to assemble the a Council of Territories is made, in light of discontent with decisions made by the Capital and labors exerted by the Territories that have not seen them rewarded. Discontent murmurs through the halls of the assembly hall, as the Archduke fails to attend. His ministers have taken his place, as the highest authority of the land bathes and carouses with young women at a heated spring, one nubile lady far more cunning than he might assume…

-----

April 10th, 1933

It was dark, early morning in Blumsburgh. The sky was dark blue, the stars anticipating the approach of the sun, and fading, save for bright point of Himinfor, the far off cosmic morning torch. Another world, you had read- like Hvrgull, shining more dully earlier in the past night. What was there? Perhaps it would be discovered someday.

For now, though, your concerns were not how early it was, nor what might be in the sky. Your concerns were rooted solely to Velekam, for today was particularly special. You are Richter Von Tracht, and today was your wedding day.

“This is silly,” you grumbled to your crew from atop the m/32, “I should have thought about how much grease and oil is all over this heap of metal.”

“It’s tradition,” Hans said through the intercom, “If a woman don’t like grease and oil she doesn’t love a tanker.”

“I don’t think most women like being awakened by cannon fire, either,” Stein said, off the tank intercom but within your hearing.

“There’s a few, maybe,” you allowed with a sigh, “I don’t think Maddalyn is one, but…” Tradition. Having to pursue your bride and escort her to the ceremony was not quite Strossvald tradition in this region of the country rather than further east- but hunting her down at the crack of dawn and waking her up with gunfire was. One could argue you’d already done this part, but…well, it was less lighthearted back then.

Hans and Stein were, thankfully, not at each other’s throats. A long enough time away had helped- and you’d celebrated their return to your service a few nights ago by going out. Though that same night was also when another tradition reared its head- you and Maddalyn would be separated for three days before your wedding day. Partially to facilitate this ritual of “abducting” her, though Hans speculated that it was meant to get the two of you hot and bothered for the actual night after.

“Let’s get going,” you said to your crew, “If we find her quickly enough maybe I won’t be stained too badly.”

“Raring to go, eh, boss?” Hans laughed, “Just don’t tear her apart as soon as we do, eh?”

…There wasn’t an rule against that…

“Paet the aedea en ‘as haed,” Jorgen snickered.

“Driver, forward,” you quickly said, “It’s time we rendezvous with our reinforcement..”

After all. This was battle- and you would be using every advantage for perfect victory. Little point in bringing this particular gun to wake up the bride with if you couldn’t find her by the time the sun crept up. So despite you and your fiancée’s separation, you’d managed to rig the trial, so no matter where she’d been “hidden” away- she would not be waiting long for you to sweep in and capture her again, while also able to execute the evidently important ceremony of an extremely rude awakening.

>What allies have you called to this battle? Mind you- they must be capable of actually attending.

>>5353280
I wanna just cry out "Everyone! All the warriors!"
But the Maddalyn Retrieval arc crew (Rondo, Krause, Walen, ect) should be more than good enough, if not a bit over kill.

>>5353280
>the Maddalyn Retrieval arc crew
This is a pretty good idea, brings things full circle. Very thematic.

>>5353298
+1, end this arc how it started

>>5353298
>>5353341
>>5353374
Wrapping this up the way it began.

Writing.

In as much of an engineering of fate as you could muster, the band you pulled to yourself was made up of the same tankers and officers as had come with you on your initial journey to get Maddalyn last year- who had marched, fought, shouldered the burden of doing the IO’s bidding with you. Not all of them were there- Von Walen’s crew had passed, and not all of the members of the section of Bat Company were either, but the latter in particular had made the bar crawl two nights ago a joyful stumble of reminiscence.

Captain Honnrieg’s gruff, stony look had lightened upon looking at your eyes (after your new shocking visage, though he didn’t seem too repelled), shaking your hand.

“Well I’ll be,” he marveled, “You don’t got the look anymore. A different one, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“It’s a long story.” A long story that by now had been told- if not every part of it, and not where everyone could hear.

Von Neubaum had sent ahead that he would be late. Every other man seemed relieved by this, for some reason, as though they knew a different man than you.

“He isn’t late,” Von Igel had said- he was a man of few words, and what he had to say had become more complaints or criticism than anything. Not a man glad to be around the rest of you- but something must have compelled him to attend anyways. Quite honestly, you couldn’t remember much about him to suggest he’d been different before. “He’ll arrive for the prestige of it. Leave us all after. He’d say he’s moved on, if you cornered him.”

“No he hasn’t,” Von Walen snorted, “Not unless he’s set on taking another trip out of the country. He just knows we’re both here. Won’t be suffered to be with us.”

“With you, rather,” Von Igel corrected as he pushed his round glasses atop his round nose, whose shape made the eyepiece’s slipping a matter of if, not when.

Von Walen rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Nobody here called him by his new preferred title. Not even the enlisted, which seemed to annoy him, but not as much as the subject of Von Neubaum.

“He seemed normal enough to me,” Honnrieg yawned, bored by the contentions of the youth, “Somethin’ change over there, or later?”

“Yeah, actually,” Honnrieg’s right hand man, at least amongst those present, raised a finger, “Heard he went out and did things in Von Tracht’s name, got up to all sorts of things, came back with a bunch of loose women. He had a different step since, I’d say.”

“There you go,” Honnrieg clapped his hands together, “Women change a man, don’t they, mister man of the day?”

…That could be said of a few different ones, you thought, feeling the numbness of the burn on your face, and the line of the scar of a knife on your right hand.

“So none of the rest of us get tanks, then?” Von Walen interrupted.

“Only the husband is supposed to wake up the spouse,” Von Metzeler pointed out, “And with the city preparing to throw all of their parties to take advantage of the Lord’s festivities, the streets are in no condition to drive armored beasts through.”

“Bah.”

“More importantly,” Von Igel grumbled, “The one making an impression should be the man getting married.”

“With that in mind,” Von Metzeler looked to Krause, “You have been observant lately, yes, Frederick?”

“The Bat Company boys and I, sure,” the mustached man said with a flick of a spent cigarette, “It seems unlikely. If she was hiding out in the city, we’d have seen some attendants or somebody shady getting stuff and taking it back, and the bodyguards creeping about. It’s nice to see considering how we first got here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Von Blum bribed all the petty criminals and troublemakers to lay off for the week.”

“Then you’ll only have to comb where you haven’t kept a keen eye,” you said. Blumsburgh was a big city, after all. To properly look over all of it might require a whole company, even with the men here being plenty capable and doing their best. “Everybody remember their sectors?” Nods all around. “Good. We have three hours, three and a half at best. I expect our finest performance. Let’s go.”

Reasonably, you’d have more. Maddalyn was a heavy, late sleeper. The more people that woke up to see you struggling, though, the worse it looked.

Thankfully, fortune was on your side. Or perhaps skill. Within two hours, one of Von Neubaum’s crewmen had reported finding a cottage in the woods, suspiciously guarded by blue coated Von Blum guardsmen. To be fair, the intent was for you to find her in the first place- you just needed enough eyes to do it quickly. Off you raced, north, for the woods north of the city by the grand river that divided the city further downstream.

“Make sure you have the blank loaded,” you urged Jorgen, who replied with something dismissive and rude. “Point the gun in the air,” you told Stein next.

“It already is,” Stein complained, “It hasn’t been that long.”

“Sorry,” you adjusted your cap, the Silver Lances uniform one that you found you preferred. Its metal plate instead of the horsehair tuft was regarded as “cooler.” “I just don’t want to stumble when the final meter is right ahead.”

“Boss,” Jorgen patted your shoulder, “Raelax. Baenger all taensed ahp aend yae’ll baest eaerly.”

“…Noted,” you said, despite not asking for any advice. “…We’re here, looks like.”

In the woods, early morning sunlight dappling the floor of the woods, there stood a squad of blue coated guards, some you recognized from before. Maddalyn’s personal guard, and a car with a long back and a covered roof, meant for luxurious transport. Their sergeant saluted to you and nodded, then looked warily at the tank.

“You ought to cover your ears,” you warned, clearing your throat.

“You’re shooting…” the sergeant said slowly,

“With the tank cannon, yes,” you said, “Thirty seconds.” You kept an eye on your watch, listened to every tick. It wasn’t too far out in the country here- the bustle of the city was faintly audible, the nearby town sometimes contributing to the soft noise. Hardly a place where the wilderness was truly present, but a place of beauty nevertheless. “Gunner. Fire!”

KPOW!!

The blast echoed through the trees, scattering birds, and all the sound from the town hushed for but a moment, before they presumably remembered the tank that had come through some minutes before.

“…Yes,” the Sergeant brushed himself off from the dust kicked up, “Lady Von Blum is…very much expected to be awake. Will you lead the train back, then?”

He referred to turning your tank right around, looking away until Maddalyn had gotten dressed and entered her car, and then driving to the marriage offices. The muddled up traditions stated a strange irony- you were expected to capture your wife, but to not look at her either, until the ceremony. Apparently the ceremonial capture was not often accompanied with a ceremony of marriage, but only the party. However, there was to be a western style ceremony, with the white dress as a symbol of entering a new life with naught behind, so the veil Maddalyn would have been wearing the past days to ward evil spirits would remain on her until that moment, and you would not lay your eyes upon her until then either.

Nevermind that Maddalyn could probably handle herself against evil spirits- you had grown superstitious enough not to tempt any, no matter how benign.

As tempting as it was to tell tradition, and the guards, to stand down while you busted the door down and made up for the past three days of separation.
Driving back to the city and the marriage office to make the legal side ready, it became apparent that Blumsburgh had fully woken and was immediately anticipating hospitality to trickle down from the ceremony up on the hill, even though it wouldn’t begin until noon. They were right to assume it- though plenty of street salesmen and stores were already wringing the wallets of what must have been many fresh tourists with their own brand of hospitality. Your tank was looked upon with awe and confusion, until the decoration of the cars following behind made it clear the import of your convoy.

You’d not been in a military parade yet, but the flattery from the common folk was something you weren’t used to despite having been used to military fame now. You tilted your cap down and shrank slightly in the turret, hoping for the traffic and crowds to part faster so you could get this part done with.

It took very little time once you had arrived. As the documents stated, you and Maddalyn would be legally wed at two o’clock on this day of April Tenth, the Nineteen hundred and thirty third year since the landing of Sversk the Conqueror and the dawn of the Judge’s light upon this continent. You tried to make as lovely a signature as you could- but your right hand was still somewhat clumsy, and your handwriting never that good. It came out tolerable, and that was the best you could ask for. Maddalyn would complete her part out of your sight- and you were urged to depart in a hurry. After all- she had plenty more to do. The final adjustments to a wedding dress, you’d been told, weren’t made until hours before the ceremony.

Meanwhile, the hours before the ceremony were meant to be passed with your honor guard, of sorts. Whom you had assembled here.

Once you’d gotten the m/32 back to its place of honor at the Von Blum Villa, the city would surely be biting its nails, waiting to receive the day’s man of honor…

>Have breakfast, and brunch, finally. Waking up scared up an appetite, and the finger food at the wedding wouldn’t be available for some hours.
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.
>Head back to the Villa, the Manor, and prepare and groom yourself with the time you had left. Uptight perhaps, but you never liked cities much anyways.
>Other?
Also-
>Anything to talk with your people about?

>>5353535
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.

>>5353535
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.
Time to have Richter bumble fuck his way through some "contests of skill".
Since it hasn't been stated, I doubt Richter actually made time to practice his fighting OR his shooting, but we'll see how it goes.

>>5353535
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.

>>5353535
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.
What we lack in skill, we may make up for in luck.

>>5353535
>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.

>>5353535
>Head back to the Villa, the Manor, and prepare and groom yourself with the time you had left. Uptight perhaps, but you never liked cities much anyways.

>>5353535
>>Head to one of the fairs that had sprung up. The people of the city wanted to see you- it would be good for you and your men to put on a show at some of the contests there.
Yes, let us deign to grace the common folk with our glorious presence on this day, to demonstrate our boundless kindness and generosity, although it's doubtful that they deserve it.

>>5353557
>>5353593
>>5353634
>>5353677
>>5353824
>>5353906
Go to the fair and be a star, for what it's worth.

>>5353866
Keep away from the rabble.

Writing.

>>5353593
>Since it hasn't been stated, I doubt Richter actually made time to practice his fighting OR his shooting, but we'll see how it goes.
Shooting can be practiced in spare time, but his combat mentor has not been present.
Unless you'd like to engage in the sort of training barely comprehensible foreign fighters prefer, and their thighs don't taste as good.

You decided to loose yourselves and your men on the local festivities, already bustling, but not as busy as they were sure to get. Today was a big day only starting for most, after all.

The assumption of traditional games of a place called the Blumlands being centered around flowers was correct- Maddalyn had told you about them in the past days, when she was telling you what to expect, even though she was a recluse. So the fair you and your men went to had little that was a surprise- flower arrangement competition, flower tea, candied flowers, wreath and bouquet contests where the objectives were both sight and scent, though all of those were feminine activities. More catered to the many present men were the standard expectations such as eating contests, boxing and fencing, the latter a showier, not-bloody sort where the contestants were heavily suited in padded armor and decorated masks, looking more like show performers in dance than men attacking each other with swords. Marksmanship contests that were the excuse of both local and far ranging shootists to show off to a crowd in a way that was likely not safe in the clearing close to the southern reach of the city, but that all were impressed with.

Given that your personal (secondary) goal was of making a show for the people attended, indirectly, to see your marriage (or at least benefit from its happening), you wanted to make a solid attendance at one or more of these contests. They would happen throughout the day, but if you made a good milestone, all would see your contribution, the stick that you measured up to. Frankly, you wouldn’t be doing well in any boxing or shooting, and the prospect of stretching your stomach in some ill advised eating contest this early in the day was not as appealing as it might have been some days in Netilland. Your close combat teacher had been away making ready to attend officer training, as far as you knew, and Jorgen and Malachi’s idea of training was more like learning to fend off tigers. Needless to say, you understood their methods about as well as their New Nauk.

One contest that would have seen you near the top was one for cleaning a deer as quickly as possible, but adding blood and offal to the oil and grease would have been boneheaded even for you.

So, it was down to three. Mountain Castle, a mock-reenactment where a towering pile of blocks challenged participants to do as what was once done on the Imperial Gate, where garrisons holding out from both sides had to be fed by brave “goats” who carried loads of supply up and down treacherous cliffs. This was much more safe, but no less a trial of strength and speed. The heavier your load, the faster you went, the better your score. Then Pestweed, which took more irritating sorts of flowers and challenged those who dared to endure them without sneezing, wheezing, or collapsing. Not one you looked forward to, but nothing compared to what you’d been through before, frankly.

Then, an odd one. Baolesson’s Death. Apparently, a local folk tale about how a past king of the realm, or a governor for Nauk Imperial, some indeterminate time in the past depending on who was asked, had a warrior who was sentenced to be beaten one hundred times for an affront to a superior. However, he was respected or feared by his fellow soldiers, so a scheme was hatched. The “executioner” instead summoned one hundred women and girls, whose strikes would be sure to be unable to kill the powerful man. It worked- until one woman turned out to be a scorned lover, and she struck him with a poisoned needle in a ring, which killed the titular warrior Baolesson. There would be no poisoned rings here, hopefully- but it was half a test of endurance, and half one of looks. After all, getting struck endlessly by women was still not pleasant, but if you were attractive in appearance, as the figure in the tale was, a lady was meant to hold back. The more in the long line who whacked the participant before he surrendered or were put on his knees, the better. Thankfully, nothing was allowed below the beltline or above the collar. No surprise black eyes for the ceremony.

“The last doesn’t seem fair for you, boss,” Hans said, “Not all of us can just put on a mask and set hearts aflutter with mystery.”

“Because every woman would just slug you in the face,” Stein said. “Same with Jorgen. Mal has the best advantage of any of us.”

“Don’t be a dick, I bet he’s pretty under there,” Hans gestured to Malachi, “Not as good as One-Arm, though. Bigger and broader than our Major. Sorry, boss. Not seeing you winning this one.”

“You’re assuming everybody is even entering,” you said, “Some of these aren’t to the tastes of some men.” Though everybody had been let loose to enjoy the fair until it was time to head back.

“Gaed Laeck,” Jorgen pounded a palm on your shoulder, “Daen thraeet yaer baeck ‘faer shorte does.”

That would be bad. The husband was also, traditionally, meant to not let his new wife’s feet touch the ground until they returned to their home. Or at least until they left the ceremony grounds. Good fortune that carrying Maddalyn was much like carrying a housecat as far as weight strain went.

>Roll 3 sets of 1d100. In order, you’ll be doing Mountain Castle, Pestweed, and Baolesson’s Death. Higher is better. If you have any tactics, they can be added onto the roll, or somebody else’s roll, and they will be considered for improving your score.

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>5354513

>>5354514
Oof.
That's not a good look.

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>5354513

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>5354513

>>5354532
Since the roll is meh do the opposite; take off the mask and scare the women away before they consider whacking Richter

>>5354582
I don't think it'll work that way, and it'll definitely reduce our image otherwise if we do.

I think we just lose in each of these, maybe we might win Pestweed simply because our ridiculous gained tolerance for unpleasant sensations, but I don't know how you could possibly strategize to win that.

Should we redeem ourselves by stripping to our underclothes and cleaning a deer as quickly as we possibly can?

>>5354513
Well that is certainly an array of rolls. For strategy I would say in Mountain castle go for a lighter load moved more quickly up the mountain. Our roll was bad but that may not preclude others biting off more than they can chew and not getting up at all.
For Pestweed, the best thing may just be to breathe through the mouth and avoid as much irritant getting in the nose. I imagine it would be easier to fight a cough than a sudden sneeze.
I would say keep the mask on but if a woman seems to be about to really let Richter have it for some reason ask for a moment to collect yourself and take the mask off and just cover the scars with a hand. I wouldn't want to scare them but only a hand to cover the scars should give a hint about the terrible scar underneath and hopefully garner some more sympathy at best, pity at worst. I do worry a bit about any knock on social implications or rumors but a scar on a military man is not exactly the most scandalous thing to have there be talk about.

>>5354601
After the wedding maybe, but even then, that's hardly a dignified look. Maybe we just contend with messing up our clothes.

>>5354604
The third is a really weird move, I don't know why we're trying to play the scar angle, it's not going to do anything. You don't get to "collect yourself" when going through a line of people beating you, and you're assuming someone is just going to have "that look in their eye" that they're going to go hard on us. The first 2 suggestions are alright though.

>>5354609
The mask idea in my mind was to let Richter take the blows normally if possible, but I want to at least have something to do to mitigate if the women really start laying in on him. Maybe you won't be able to judge intentions well enough to tell with one person, but say a couple people in a row get some good hits in for whatever reason that may be a signal to try and switch strategies.

>>5354605
Maybe there's a clothing store nearby we can buy a cheap shirt and pair of pants from? Or commandeer some clothes from one of our followers if absolutely necessary. That's what they're there for, right?

>>5354923
not a bad idea, but again, would probably be for after the wedding

>>5354946
I have a feeling we might be too busy working with a different kind of meat after the wedding.

Apologies for being late, but I'm gonna be even later. Update will come soon after I get back from work.
Don't get too down about not doing well, though. After all, the roll that matters more is still in the future.

>>5355052
>After all, the roll that matters more is still in the future.
START ROLLING TO MAKE BAYBEES

Firstly, you took on the mountain. As much of one as it was. The height was impressive, but rather than stone, it was made of bales of cloth and straw, so that anybody falling down would be entertainment rather than a tragedy. Fall down many did- as it was common to overburden oneself and make their body clumsy by extension.

A mistake you wouldn’t repeat. You’d load yourself light as possible, which turned out to be wise, as something was making you shockingly flat footed as you struggled up each block, trying to be the swiftest if not the most powerful. Despite every preparation in your favor, it was still a baffling ordeal, and in your hurry to end it quickly you managed to bound over the top…and fall right down the other side, rolling down half the mountain before picking yourself up, having to climb back up to see where your mask fell off, and then dejectedly making your way down again. Yes, you’d reached the top in your go, but it most certainly was nothing impressive.

Oh well. Enough people failed to get to the top at all from overconfidence, but if you had gone with anything but a light load you would have shared that indignity. You’d do better later- else it might seem that this union was frowned upon.

Pestweed was not any trial of strength, which was good for a body that had just tumbled up and down even the mild obstacle of a fake and soft mountain, and a more familiar one besides that. Jumping up and down cliffs like a rock buzzard had not been part of your youth or hobbies, but pollen season certainly was, as was the acrid smoke of the inner capital. You had more confidence taking on this botanical artifice of irritation, especially when you saw the array of them and were relieved to see nothing that was mildly poisonous or a skin irritant.

So long as you didn’t have your nasal passages intruded upon, you could stifle a sneeze, and force down a cough, no matter how watery your eyes got.

Succumbing was inevitably, as flowers and tufts were scoured across your face like you were being scrubbed for a bath, but between you starting and ending, several men had been defeated despite starting minutes after you, so despite feeling like you’d come down with a sudden flower flu, you felt rather good about yourself. For now, you had done the best. It wouldn’t last, but it made up for your earlier botch.
“Onwards,” you declared with a throat full of phlegm, having washed your face off.

“Er,” Stein coughed, “Are you sure? You look like one of those red and pink flowers there.”

“The pleasant scents might help me,” you said, “I’m feeling the momentum of victory. It’ll wear off. If I look better as time goes on, perhaps I’ll have to weather less after my toughness is spent.”

“They’re city girls, boss,” Hans said dismissively, “I don’t think most of them would hit somebody as hard as they could, even if that would do anything. Unless there were anybody like Karla here.”

You cringed as you expected Stein to not take kindly to any mention of his sister, but instead, he nodded. “You can’t discount a strong armed woman out of every few hundred. Maybe a farmer or woodworker’s daughter blew in.”

“Those what you’re hoping to see, Stein?” Hans challenged.

“Could do a lot worse.”

“How about huntresses?” You tested. It fooled nobody.

After signing into the event, your turn came up, though you observed first- and thought you recognized a few people from the Silver Lances, though not from your platoon, certainly from your company. You’d told the organizers of your day to invite all they could from that unit, though you had doubts as to how many would attend given the uncertainty of when their next deployment was. It’d be harder to tell as well, given that these particular men were out of uniform.

“Tough competition,” Stein said, “Though they’re rougher looking.”

That prompted a hollow laugh from you. “No need for flattery. I’ll just roll the dice on not being sized up by any farmhand women.” Taking off your mask to elicit pity was an option, but part of your calculations was hindered by your undeniable sense of pride.

You’d managed twenty nine women when a twist occurred. Most of them held their strike- though most did seem to be middle aged, and you were admittedly young, so it had the feeling of mothers holding back a slap on a child. Though the feistier young women did smile at you before giving you a solid whack on the chest.

Nothing had gone against expectations, and you felt you could handle more, plenty more. Then the shift in fortunes.

How many women wore uniforms, you wondered as a blue blur came bounding up.

“Grit those teeth, pretty boy!”

WHOCK.

It caught you completely off guard- nobody had decided to sink their fist right into your middle with a running leap, and you stumbled back, sinking to a knee and groaning.

“Oh, suck it up,” came the mocking nasally voice, “If I really wanted it to hurt I would’a used my foot.”

“I’m ever so thankful,” you grumbled as you felt that blow’s true depth and toppled onto your arse, “Judge Above, I didn’t think you could hit that hard…”

“If I didn’t hit you as hard as I could,” Anya said, “I couldn’t knock you down, could I? Isn’t that the point?”

“The point is…” you wheezed, and accepted the hand that extended to pull you up, “You’re supposed to pull your fist if you like the way I look…”

“That’s dumb. How’re you s’posed to remember however many girls hit you with half-assed punches?” Anya stretched her able arm over her head, “Besides, you already know you look good. You sort of took that like a bitch. You wanna second try? I’ll let y’punch me first, if y’want.”

“That’s not how it works either,” you said with a sigh as you left to keep this spectacle from holding things up.

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“Can I get back in line then?” She referred to going to punch more men. You wouldn’t object. It would help your chances, because Anya wouldn’t hold back on anybody, you bet.

“Stay a moment,” you got a chance to size up Anya’s new apparel. She wore a different uniform now- a cadet’s jacket, which was identical to an officer’s save for the blank rank insignia on the throat. The condition of her arm meant she couldn’t wear it properly- an allowance made for injuries. What wasn’t an allowance was the shirt she wore underneath, one of several options in and of itself, but it was predictably worn improperly, though the Silver Shield of Roland was pinned where it ought to be when it couldn’t be on the jacket. “Folding your shirt up is out of regulation.” Not said out of any actual admonishment, but you had to hit back somehow.

“I’m not gonna be at school ‘til the end of the month anyways. You complainin’?” Not particularly, but there was the principle of the matter. As you stepped out of the boundaries of the event, she reached up to toy with her hair. “Though…y’know. How do I look?”

That made you squint at her. “I think you know what I think.”

“No, I mean, how d’you think I look, to other guys? Maybe they’d like it better if I wore it like the book.”

Ah. She was on the hunt. “What sort of other guys?”

Anya frowned at you. “You know.”

“…Are you sure he’ll be here?” You asked Anya carefully, “You know that-“

“He’ll be here.” Anya said with a curt bite that invited no debate, even if you had no idea how that was possible to be certain of.

Perhaps you could help her with other options, though, in case assumptions were wrong.

>How does she look? From the perspective of anybody she’d be interested in, of course…
>Other things?

>>5355440
I don't think our Ellowian friend will be disappointed.

>>5355440
Her hair is nice and fluffy and her abs strong, she looks good. Not as good as Richter's bride will be, of course, but still very nice.
Surely any red blooded young man, let alone the one she seeks, would be happy to try and romance her, and Richter will have to play the role of elder siblings and fight them off so they could prove their worth, before the real challenge of fighting Anya herself arose.

>>5355440
If a man doesn't appreciate a good midriff he doesn't deserve Anya anyway.
Also, that pose with that out-of-sleeves coat looks quite badass.

>>5355440
I get that keeping her shirt up is a habit that will be hard to kill if she even wants to, but honestly, to answer her question, I think she would look better with the shirt down for her uniform. Otherwise, yes, she looks quite good, anyone should be able to tell even without the abs that she's tough, and the person she probably has in mind wouldn't question it anyways. I think it would definitely help her chances to show she knows how to be modest as well as kick ass.

>>5355440
>How does she look? From the perspective of anybody she’d be interested in, of course…
Indeed green text, indeed.
She looks like a stone cold badass, stands out from anyone in this crowd. When he first sees her, all she'll have to do is let her feelings show through her smile, he won't be able to look away. No one could.

Goddammit tanq, why you got drop her looking cute as fuck right before Richter gets married?

>>5355440
>How does she look? From the perspective of anybody she’d be interested in, of course…
She certainly looks storied. Dressed like a cadet but already decorated, with a scarred face, broken arm, and bared midriff. There may have been room for misunderstanding in who exactly owns the cadet jacket, but the Shield of Roland only makes sense being there if it is hers, so why humble yourself with the cadet jacket unless it is hers as well.

I do like the midriff but she should be wearing the uniform properly by the time the wedding really starts kicking off of course.

>>5355440
She looks very dashing

>>5355473
>>5355543
>>5355638
Have confidence in that body.

>>5355659
Put your shirt down, the people you're into already know what's under it.

>>5355695
>>5355708
>>5355909
It's all in how you stand out.

Writing.

>>5355695
>spoiler
>>5355362
Some rolls are poorly timed.

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“I doubt any red blooded man could resist you,” you said frankly, “No man would turn down a girl with a strong center like yours. Or a head as fluffy.”

Anya frowned and stroked her hair. “Y’think I oughta grow it more? I mean…”

She was usually so confident about her appearance. “You don’t believe me when I say you look good? I have excellent vision. I’ll say that anybody who disagrees likely has poor eyesight.” Not as pretty as Maddalyn, but that wasn’t what was asked.

“No, I,” Anya stuttered most uncharacteristically, “Y’know. That’s not everything, right?”

“Of course not. You stand out. You look tough, storied. Decorated with scars and clothing alike. Well earned pride. Though I think if you’re looking for people who already know you,” you prodded her stomach with a finger, “We already know how good this looks. For some, a respect towards decorum is as desirable as that tone is. You don’t need to show everything you’re proud of. Besides, I’d appreciate you being in proper dress for the ceremony.”

Anya still seemed strangely uncertain. “Would somebody else like that better, though..?”

“If they think less just because your face is all that’s on display then they probably prefer men anyways,” you made a declaration that could be controversial, “And shouldn’t be somebody you should think of attracting. Anybody you do draw, I’ll be sure to judge them first. My retinue only deserves the best. A proper older brother’s role.”

That last part had slipped out, and Anya squinted, then smirked. “You’re the older sibling? I don’t think so. If anybody is, I’m the big sister.”

“You’re rather short to be a big sister,” you shot back.

“I’m older than you, I bet,” Anya said. Though since her own age was a guess at best, she could easily extend the range over whatever you said. “You’re an only child, I actually have a little sister.” She reached up and pinched your cheek. “Cute how you’re gonna keep all the chaff away, huh?”

“My pride won’t suffer less for you,” you said.

For some reason, Anya’s smile diminished, weighing whether to say something. “Nah, you’re doing fine,” she decided with a sigh, “I appreciate it. I really do. I ought’a know better, but…’s hard to know sometimes. What I like, and what other people like better. Sometimes guys aren’t like I…figure. Anyways. Join me in line, with your guys, I wanna punch more people for nothin’.”

“There’s more to do,” you said, “Wander around with them a bit, this contest isn’t going anywhere.”

“Then I’m gonna do what I know you can’t do back today,” Anya said with a smirk, as she smacked you right on the bottom with a loud whap.

“Anya,” you said in exasperated warning, “There are people…”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Anya shoved her hand in a pocket, “You’re not gonna be the only one, if I have my way.”

-----

After some rounds of contest spectating, including seeing just how deep an appetite a Yaegir could muster if given an excuse and just how mighty your driver really was in regards to bearing loads, everybody had gathered at the gates to the manor, just ten minutes before they were to open and admit all directly invited. One hundred feet away though, local vendors and performers were plying their trade, having fought mercilessly in the past days to reserve places for the highest paying clientele.

Anya had been hanging around Honnrieg, who was advising her in her posture and the particular fit of her uniform. She didn’t give the older officer any backtalk that was the normal- her shirt was properly folded down, straightened, and her shoulders were squared and her neck straightened more than you’d seen in a while. A cloud of worry was still in her eyes, as she glanced about every so often.

She had spoken of it as though it were nothing, but the news was a shock to you when it was shared with the crew. Anya had gone back to Ellowie over the past couple of weeks, but had returned here no worse for wear, even claiming to have “found” another piece of armor that had been appropriated in the field. As much as you would object to her adventuring again with a broken arm, she did insist to you that she had been as careful as she could be, since she had to attend this wedding. All she wanted was to ensure that there would be other guests.

Yet they weren’t in attendance yet, from what you could see.

“So she’s hot for the girly haired guy, huh,” Stein scratched his chin, “Thought she was into the more manly type.”

“You’re saying that after Fluffy grabbed your ass like she did?” Hans jabbed your gunner, “You’re not a monument to masculinity yourself, fat cheeks.”

Stein pinkened around the cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember that…”

“She never got grabby with me” Hans said in mock dejection. “Hey, boss. You got a ramrod up your bum?”

“It’s my wedding day,” you said annoyedly, “Of course I’m nervous. I haven’t seen Maddalyn in three days. There’s going to be hundreds watching. I’m allowed to have my shivers before I’m at the stand.”

“You got it out of your system before you had to break apart, didn’t you?” Hans teased.

“That is none of your business.” You had. By thoroughly acquainting your manhood with the taut, soft space between the two lovely halves of Maddalyn’s beautiful perfect pearl. You thought it would be enough afterwards, but time told you that you were wrong.

Finally, you were let in. Mingling would only take place for a short time before the ceremony- half an hour for everybody to introduce themselves to whomever they wished, and anything else was for afterwards. It did mean you didn’t have to linger, if you didn’t want to- the party would go on for the rest of the day regardless of how quickly you absconded with Maddalyn, though returning afterwards was frowned upon, given that the act of consummation was assumed to have occurred. It was unseemly for a virgin bride to come back to the place of their union still bloody, amongst other unseemly descriptors best saved for the wedding bed.

“All the ghosts of our past’ve come back,” Hans marveled at the varied cast you had invited, keeping respectful distance for you to approach them- as they’d been instructed. Swarming the bride or groom was impolite at best. “You’re gonna have to cart the ginger princess’s cute ass around a while to talk to all of ‘em, eh?” Indeed. The bride’s feet were not allowed to touch the ground after leaving the altar, so if you wanted to socialize, it would be with her hanging off of you. “Though how long’ve you waited already, eh? Major Virgin Veal Pounder?”

“Vaeal Paendar,” Jorgen chuckled with a wide grin, and you feared he would break into a chant.

>Not to be impolite to the assembled guests, but you weren’t going to make Maddalyn wait for them once a gold band was on her finger. You’d be going to your appointed room. Immediately.
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.
>Other?
Also-
>Seek out anybody and talk to them before the ceremony begins? What to talk about?
Needless to say, you’ve only got a limited amount of time before, though plenty afterwards. So long as you’re fine with your new wife being a part of every conversation.

>>5356229
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.

>Seek out anybody and talk to them before the ceremony begins?
I wonder if Signy made it. Would be nice to talk to her before, since it wouldn't be wise to bring Maddy in front of her. Perhaps other females I'm forgetting about. I don't think anyone else we would be a problem to have Maddy with us, right?

>>5356229
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.
Sit her on our shoulder instead of doing a princess carry. This puts the load off the arms, and additionally lets us covertly nuzzle her behind.

>>5356229
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.
>Seek out anybody and talk to them before the ceremony begins? What to talk about?
Find our parents, be doted upon, ask if they've had the chance to speak to any of our guests, see if they have any advice for fighting the ceremonial jitters.
I'd have like to check how our invited cripples were doing, if and how many managed to make it, but I suppose if there's plenty of time after the ceremony we can look for them then.

>>5356229
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.
I Hope Richter's been working out at least a little.
Super light or not, princess carrying a girl all night is gonna be exhausting.

>Seek out anybody and talk to them before the ceremony begins?
Find Richter's parents
Find Maddalyn's family
Talk to each, about love and marriage and familial pride and anything else they'd want to get off their chests before two become one, advice or otherwise.
Make sure to give dear Eda a big huge hug. Richter's mother deserves it.

>>5356229
>>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.
It just makes tactical sense.

>>5356229
>Maddalyn was a light-weighted wife. You could carry her around for as long as needed.

>Seek out anybody and talk to them before the ceremony begins? What to talk about?

Our parents of course. Thank you for raising us, sorry for worrying you all over the years (especially the last one or two, love you lots.

>>5356265
>>5356464
Maddalyn's virginity is having a stay of execution.
Make sure to move her to your shoulder. Probably not wise to sniff her butt here though.

>>5356250
Get to the Signort before the other eyepatch wearer has to be in the same space as her.

>>5356319
>>5356338
>>5356597
Get some family engagement going.

>>5356319
Find the "invited cripples." I'm assuming that's your Silver Lance platoon members.

Writing- though priority goes to the one that your very soon to be wife instead of fiancée doesn't like being around. The other one that she doesn't like you being around.

>>5356790
I assume there'll be a list later for who were actually able to come?

Delaying again tonight, sorry, I just barely don't have enough time to finish the update after oversleeping.

>>5356996
>I assume there'll be a list later for who were actually able to come?
I'll be real with you man, there's no way in hell that I can draw up a full guest list. Which is why I ask for who specifically rather than having a roster of names. It's much, much, much easier to say who isn't there amongst those you want around, on an individual basis.

>>5357372
Fair, was mainly wondering about the non-Strossvalders and Sosaldtians like Magnus and Wlad.

“She’s a light weighted wife,” you said to Hans, “I can carry her around easily. As long as I need to, to speak with everybody I’d like.”

“Naederwohn.”

“What, Mal,” Hans admonished your driver, “Who doesn’t the little cupcake want to hang around with? We’re all friends here.”

“Er,” you coughed, “No, he’s right. She wouldn’t want to be around a few people…I suppose I’ll find them now.”

For example- the one woman besides Anya that made Maddalyn feel unreasonably threatened. She was in attendance, amongst the foreigners who had come. King Wladysaw had sent ahead that he would be unable to attend- he was simply too occupied with the politics of the reborn Ellowie to afford to leave the country, though he had waited some time until he felt he had no chance to take any holiday however brief. You’d heard of some of such politics- with the war in Netilland nearing its end after the climactic battle for the Capital, the Ellowian Republican Army was breaking off in parts to finally head for home, along with the Republican government in exile. They were vocally displeased to have to share the country with a king they considered completely illegitimate- but Wladysaw had consolidated power cleverly, having allies with the Netillian Republicans as well as forces of his own, though not near as numerous or equipped as the exiled Army. It was just enough for negotiations- and wide speculation that the end result would be a merging of governments into a Constitutional Monarchy, the powers of the crown but a check upon the representative government.

Quite frankly, that was probably better than before, in your admittedly biased opinion.

The other more traditional man you had invited, that Anya was absolutely certain would be around...wasn't. Yet, at least. Though your retinue was lurching about making absolutely sure of that before coming to any conclusions.

Though it was time to find the leader of what was supposed to be a representative republic, though all experience that you’d had with it was an army with a nation attached to it.

It was simple to find the Mittelsosalian party- not because of the newly minted dress uniforms, which were only recognizable because they couldn’t belong to any other men, not because you saw the young leader herself, but because of Lord Wossehn. The wealthy wastelander had always wanted to attend a noble function, he had claimed, and he had not held back on his appearance when he had gotten the chance to. The man was clad head to toe in gold and platinum, his very suit jacket’s cloth as well as that of his trousers was gold, and glittered with gems. He was so brilliant that he was difficult to look at- when the sun struck him, he became its twin. Your curiosity to what the devil all that brilliance was, was what initially drew you over. Though, who you wanted to find was not too far, accompanied by a few huge heavyweights in the midst of a garden of stonework- one of the heavies whom you recognized, though his garb was far fancier than before. Not saying much, considering what the former auxiliary’s dress had been. The guards all recognized you, and gave you and their ruler a healthy distance in a protective circle.

Signy Vang, Cyclops, the Minister of the People, and who could say what other titles accumulated by now. She wore a white dress with red and blue accents, a star and golden trim at the top of her chest where the dress ended and was continued by black, luminescent sheer, a crimson and gold ribbon on her throat. He hair was tied behind her head save for two long tufts at the side of her head- she was more ladylike in dress than you’d ever seen her before, but she didn’t seem uncomfortable. When you first knew her, she was deep in sadness, but she still had a shine in her eye and a hopeful spirit, an irrepressible desire to snatch a gleam of hope from the gloom. That shine was gone, or at least diminished, a cigarette’s final moments smoldering in her lips as she rested a hand on the edge of a stonework block. A willing fool to idealism now seemed to calculate as you approached. At least, you couldn’t quite shake such a feeling.

“It’s been some time,” she said, letting the cigarette drop and crushing it under a fancy heeled shoe, rather than a boot that was the normal otherwise, but had no less force for what that foot wielded. “Your army is doing well, Kommandant. You’ve left a legacy hard for people to measure up to, but they can’t help but try. I think you’d be proud, but you aren’t coming back any time soon, I bet. I knew you hadn’t been hurt worse since we last met, but it’s nice to see it with my own eyes.”

“I’m not that special in that way.” Plenty of other ways, yes. “Signy. It’s good that you made it.”

She blinked at her own name being mentioned. “I’m happy for you,” she said, though she wore no smile, “It’s funny. It hasn’t been very long, thinking about it, but our lives changed completely, while you’ve been waiting to do what you came over here in the first place to do, haven’t you?”

“It’s finally happening at least.”

“I can’t help but be envious,” Signy said as she picked a cigarette from her handbag resting on the stonework, and a lighter, staring contemplatively at the glow it made as she lit her smoke, and breathed it in slowly. “It’s not that long ago that all I thought I’d want was this, and not much more. I had such a small world to think about, but now it feels as far away as the northern sea’s edge.”

“Does it?” You asked, rhetorically.

Signy stared a half lidded gaze. “That’s not so easy a question as it used to be. Once I could be that self-indulgent, and, well, I was.” She paused, “Maybe I still am, a little. I’m rambling to you about myself on your wedding day. Sorry. You’ve come so far, you know.”

“I suppose I deserve this, don’t I,” you gave the bustling gathering a wide look.

“You deserve more, I think,,” Signy said, “Though that’s not my business.”

“Hard to think of it getting more than this,” you said, “What would it even be, the Kaiser’s coronation?”

Signy pursed her lips like you hadn’t gotten it, but let it be. “There’s to be victory parades once the last of the fighting is over back in the Republic. I’d ask for you to come, but you’ve already got plans, don’t you?” She gestured to the new rank insignia at your throat, “I was told you have a new position.”

A nod. “Von Blum is putting me in command of a new demi-battalion. Before I take to that, though, I’m going on a honeymoon holiday with Maddalyn. We’ll stop over in the Reich before going to Paelli.”

“Paelli?” Signy echoed, “Why there?”

“Paelli is the other side of the world. I’ve been all over the east. May as well see the west. It’s on the very edge, as well, where the Maelstrom touches the land. It’s a place for an adventure without war. Something I’d like to have with Maddalyn.”

“She doesn’t seem the adventurous type,” Signy said with a smoky sigh.

“Maddalyn might not think so either,” you said, “But I’ve spent more time away from her than with her. I want to even that out. Try to do something good for her. That, and Paelli has plenty of warm beaches.”

Signy snorted at that. “Western bathing fashion is better for those, certainly. I’ve never been back to Naukland, where I was born, but the seas there are cold. Nobody would wear what people wear down south, unless they’re as hot blooded as Emreans are. And Vynmark prefers to dress like their seas are cold.” She sighed again, “Maybe I’ll have the chance for that again.”

“Wearing swimsuits?”

Signy smiled slightly. “Ha. No, I’ve done that recently. For something silly, nowhere near any sea sides. I meant marriage, the adventure of romance. What I wanted since I was little, with my idea of how my life would be…I wonder what my mother thinks of me, let alone my past self. Sometimes I can’t help but think if the person I used to be would be disgusted with what I became.”

“You still have the chance for that adventure,” you glanced to the man you had recognized. Had he taken your recommendation?

Signy saw where you were looking. “Maybe. I’ve been approached, but now’s simply not the time. I’ve been told a part of my appeal to many men is the loneliness that I have to live with. Though not my particular standards…the first general elections will be coming after the recent special military operation ends, to bring western Sosaldt under the protection of the Republic. I doubt that my position as Minister of the People will change. Most of the newer, more spiteful territories are still being organized. In my quest to bring the light of Republicanism, Democracy, Liberty, it’s strange how I must infringe that of others, isn’t it? Even if it’s for the best, later on.” She pointed with her cigarette towards a flock of petty nobles, “I haven’t lost my reputation before, or after. I don’t think many people like somebody like me being here, Richter. I’m sore reminder.” A smug addition, that. “Though I didn’t expect criticism from the Republicans here, when I arrived.” She crossed one arm over the other and rested her hip on the stonework, “I’d like them to like me as they used to, but they’ve wrapped themselves in thoughts all this time. I’ve burdened myself with deeds.” She paused. “Sorry. You’re still the only one I feel I can talk to about this. Somebody who knows the before and the now. I’m sure you know plenty of people like that, for you.”

You shrugged. “It’s easier for me. I went back to Strossvald, where few respected what I did over there. Then I went to Ellowie, where things were the same. People heard I was the Kommandant, but that didn’t usually count for much.”

“Not so anymore. Now you’re the Silver Lance. Husband to a daughter of the powerful Von Blum family. Who can say what else.” She glanced to the medals on your breast. “Though…I hate to ask something like this of you, on a day like this. Where we should be celebrating the current peace, but…the future is looking murky in the east, Richter. I want to know…the Republic, this beautiful country that couldn’t have been real were it not for you and your sacrifices…if it were to come under threat, and the Archduchy loosed you from itself, would you come with your people and fight for it? I cannot think of any now who would not be inspired by that. Even those who called you enemy once.”

>Three times to Sosaldt was too much. You would not be Kommandant again. Could not. It was time for other legends to grow, because yours took you elsewhere.
>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.
>Other?
Also-
>Speak about anything else?

Signort in her fancy social dress is coming next update, putting this out now so you don't have to wait even more.

>>5357797
>Three times to Sosaldt was too much. You would not be Kommandant again. Could not. It was time for other legends to grow, because yours took you elsewhere.

Ask about Vynmark, how is their government reacting to the imminent Twaryian invasion? Going to do their own Alpha Two?

>>5357797
>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.
Richter's soft spot for the fledgling Republic, while a form of governance he doesn't believe in, is well documented.
But
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.
Richter has priorities and duties to nation and family to consider as well.

>>5357797
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.
But if shit really hits the fan the fighting will be done everywhere.

>>5357801
The way I see it, Richter has enough personal ties, along with metaphorical and literal investments there, to want to help as much as he could. Just not enough to drop other important shit to play Kommandant.
If he was allowed to go anywhere to help out, I'd assume he'd go there first and foremost.

>>5357801
+1, I'm sure he would like to, but I'm not sure he could. Maybe if things go really fubar in the archduchy that even the von blum's state collapses, but then it might be rather difficult to even get to Mittelsosalia.

>>5357797
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.

>>5357797
>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.
Strossvald sure does seem to have some problems looming, but as long as the shadow of the Reich is staying behind the mountains I would support going off to fight with the Republic. We do also have that meeting with Kaiser after all, and more or less I want to see if he is the kind of person that is going to conquer the whole continent again.

>>5357797
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.

>>5357797
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.

Between the IO, the Lances, the Von Blums, the Archduchy I think our loyalties are getting stretched very thin. which is very bad should any of these start fighting each other hint hint...

If we wanted that freedom, we would have stayed a Kommandant, or become a Warlord.
>Speak about anything else?
Good luck Signy, have a nice life somewhere far from here.

>Other?
Give a quick wink to the Wolfman and tell Signy that there was no one we trust more to her safety than him.

>>5357797
>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.
Anya gets 2 pictures and Signy doesn't even get 1, this shit is rigged.

>>5358122
>Good luck Signy, have a nice life somewhere far from here.
Damn, harsh.
If you feel that strongly, why not just go for the hard no?

>>5357797
>>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.

>>5357797
>Being pessimistic, you probably wouldn’t have that choice. In a world so fraught with looming uncertainty, you had to remain where your new family as well as your nation could find you waiting to defend them.

>>5357797
>If you have the choice, you would. With more men and more power in your hands, you could even bring something to the table besides a strange tank and a burnt-face half hand.
>Speak about anything else?
Any further word of the enigmatic Loch to share to with us?
She brought an impressive uniformed entourage, but is that all? How is the Republic handling it's more clandestine operations with Loch seemingly out of frame now OOC I'm assuming Signy was eventually made aware of our own dirty little assassination job and presumably others that went on in the background during the formation? Has she begun she putting together her own private intelligence service in his stead? This is definitely something we should keep tabs on early, if we were to return to the wastes Kommandant a third time, assumedly higher up the Strossvald spook ladder than ever by then.
Would anons consider telling Signy about the Kaiser's seal we cryptically recieved wise? She didn't react when we told her of our stop over in the Reich specifically on the way to Paelli, so I guess she's unaware of the audience we're expecting when we arrive.

>>5357799
Nah. Twice in the red dust was enough.

>>5357801
>>5357814
>>5358029
>>5358130
>>5358160
>>5358189
If you can, you will. What was fighting there before for if you would not return for what was fought for?

>>5357803
>>5357967
>>5358031
>>5358122
>>5358171
In the world you live in, you wouldn't have the luxury of that choice. You can only spread yourself so far, and ultimately, you have one allegiance.

>>5357799
How is that southern neighbor doing, considering their position on a potential list?

>>5358122
Try to wrap a bow on this.

>>5358189
What of Loch, and what of those unseen but most certainly felt?
You seem unsurprised about dropping by the Reich, as well...

Writing.

>>5358252
Damn, minutes to lste to tie the vote.

>>5358252
How's the drawing going?

>>5359698
It's been done, I just haven't given myself time to actually sit down and write until now. It'll be out tonight.
Also since my work hours are getting changed soon hopefully that'll be more updates for this thread at least.
Which is good because this is supposed to be, you know, an epilogue for this part. Better start deciding what you want to name the little shits on the way.

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“If I have the choice, I will.” A simple and easy declaration to make. Separated from logic, you had no reason to refuse to protect your investment, your comrades more than once, that once so small Republic that had grown into so much, because of a legend that you could only reluctantly admit, under its growth and exaggeration, was your own. A heroic epoch demanded you return in its hour of need…yet reality was not so poetic, was it? You still tried to justify it. “With more men, more power, I’ll actually be able to help more.”

Signy smiled at you- it was a nice, bright one, but you saw in her eyes that she knew your hesitancy. “That’s what you’d like to say, and I appreciate it. But..?”

“I probably won’t have that choice, I suppose,” you admitted, “I have more to fight for, more to protect. But I have my pride. I don’t want to choose. I want to fight for all of it.”

“I won’t ask that you fight for anything over your friends, your family, your Strossvald,” Signy said, “It’s not so simple for you to decide against those, as it is for me, now. Even if I understand…the greed.” Her tone turned melancholy. “I’d rather the future not require those kinds of questions, especially today. I want you to be happy, Richter. I always have.” She paused. “Maybe something less…heavy is better right now. Something on your mind rather than mine.”

There was admittedly more to ask. “You have an impressive entourage,” you looked to the Republican Guards, “They aren’t all there is, right? Somebody as important as you might need more subtle protection.”

“Mm.” Signy nodded, “That’s been set up. By….Loch’s people, before he and they all went. They aren’t numerous. But they’re well meaning. Xenakis would rather they not grow powerful, though. Says that their work and desire for it makes them untrustworthy over brute strength. So I defend myself with both.”

“Only defensive?” You weren’t about to spew it, but Strossvald’s Intelligence Office had expanded its offensive capabilities as of late. Perhaps that was a necessity.

Signy shook her head. “No. As I said…there are trust issues in the long term. I can’t simply do whatever I want when it comes to defying my closest advisors. I have to at least be the binding between these brilliant men.”

Maybe it was better, though perhaps not the wisest course of action. You could hardly say. The Intelligence Office had certainly done its part in exploiting you and causing you grief. Fewer organizations like them were not so terrible a curse. “Speaking of Loch,” you said, “Have you seen him? What’s he been up to?”

Signy glared a dirty look somewhere to the side. “I don’t know, and he can stay gone,” she said bitterly, “Always there when needed. Never close as wanted. He’s toyed with me enough and I won’t have it anymore. Next he shows his face, he’ll be locked away.” She looked back to you and frowned. “I’m not just some scorned woman. He’s up to something and he won’t say what. Even things I think I’m right about he’ll evade. I can’t have somebody like that close to me. Not with who I am now.”

Perhaps it was alright to probe a bit more. “You didn’t seem curious of why I was stopping in the Reich…”

“I know why you are,” Signy said flatly, “He told me why.”

Oh.

Signy went on. “He doesn’t want to trap or deceive. He was forthcoming enough about that. I think he just believes the Kaiser wants to take his measure of you. How it compares to the legend, of the man and the bloodline. His man extended that invitation long before- and Loch insisted on it after, with the same token. There’s no reason to be wary…but I don’t know what they expect, either.”

“I’m interested in him myself,” you said, wondering. You’d had the luxury of time to investigate that some. Including his physical appearance…which, as you expected on some level, was the same as Loch’s. Only his hair was long, past his shoulders, and his face had a sternness the other seemed to lack. “They aren’t the same person, are they?”

You hadn’t mentioned who you referred to when you wondered aloud, but Signy shook her head regardless.

If the man wanted to talk to you, and Loch wanted you to do so as well, then you’d find out more soon anyways. “Close to the Republic,” you swerved, “There’s something brewing between Twaryi and Vynmark.” Rumors had spread all the way here- in Strossvald, a conflict between Twaryi and Vynmark was not particularly exciting news in and of itself, but speculation was wild on how involved the distant continent of Caelus was. “What’s next is inevitable, isn’t it? Shouldn’t they strike preemptively, as we did?”

“They won’t,” Signy said, “They have defenses they’ve been shoring up, making a show of doing so. I don’t know why the Twaryians are taking so long. I thought they’d have launched their attack by now, but they’re hesitating, building more strength. Drawing more troops from over the ocean. Mittelsosalia won’t be able to help them. We have to spend at least some time pulling ourselves together. The Southern Cities…the Zuide Confederacy, they call themselves now.”

They had finally organized themselves into a nation, despite being a force in and of themselves for some time. Less changed than one might think, for the declaration of a new state. “They’ll probably help, but they can’t pull their strings all the way over the sea. Vynmark is an important shield and a vital market. I don’t think either they or Vynmark are ready for what’s coming. They’re anxious. They’ve set aside their pettiness for a moment, so that we can trade and make arrangements. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but Xenakis doesn’t think that Vynmark will win either way. He says they lack fighting spirit as a nation. They’re certainly not Nauk any longer.”

It wouldn’t be an unfair assessment. Vynmark had avoided proper all-out war for decades, unlike practically the rest of Sosaldt, being limited to small skirmishes and high seas policing. Most anybody else on Vinstraga would consider them soft people, all the cold edge of Nauk that the northern Nauklanders (the race that this young woman in front of you belonged to) melted away by the warm climes of the southern shore.

“I hope I’m not going there, then,” you said.

“Me either.”

A pause, as Signy had let the cigarette burn down to her gloves.

“I don’t know where I’m going next,” you said, “I’d like somewhat of a break before the next crazy thing happens.”

“You’d deserve it,” Signy said as she let the butt fall from her fingers. “Hm. I shouldn’t keep you longer. It’s not much time until the ceremony. It was nice seeing you, Richter. Hopefully we’ll see each other again.”

“Mm,” you waved, “Bye, then.”

As you passed out the ring of bodyguards once more, you strayed close to the biggest one of them all- his wolf pelt was gone, but his name wouldn’t have changed. “You survived then, Wolfgang?”

A snort. “’Course, Kommandant. I didn’t get where I was being a pussy.”

“Good,” you said, “I trust you to take care of her. I don’t know if you owe me any favors, but do me that one, if you can."

“You got nothin’ to worry about.”

You believed the swarthy former brigand well enough, though to be honest, you wondered how much Signy needed to be taken care of in the first place. She was still a round-faced, freckled north-blooded woman of only twenty years, but she might have been the most powerful person at this gathering, given time.

She had been right, though. You didn’t have much more time before you were to go wait at the altar, alongside a sort of functionary you hadn’t seen in a while- a priest. Alexander may have gutted the influence of the Cathedra and churches in general when he swept over Vinstraga, but they still existed where the people refused to have them replaced, and where they were no threat to powers that came after. Spiritual guidance, charity, unions made in the eyes of heaven. The place where they were allowed to fulfill a small part of where the Cathedra once claimed to be representation of divine justice. This priest was no Cathedra man, but of the Sect of Valiance. By your mother’s request, he had journeyed some way- as the Sect of Valiance was not one of the subsets of Holy Judgment common to the Blumlands, but the local differences were inoffensive anyways.

You certainly didn’t feel like finding excuses to get into theological debate. It just meant a few might cock an eyebrow at how the preeminent witnesses would be the ghosts of comrades and those who were ancestors in spirit.

In the minutes before you’d have to hurry along, you managed to find your parents- after greeting your mother with a tight embrace, you took them to find their counterpart. Easy to find as before, but much easier to have a lone audience with, Lord Baranabas Von Blum. Both of his fairer halves were now passed on, but his eldest son was present at his side.

“Sir Von Tracht,” Bastian bowed to your father as he approached with you, “It is my joy to see you and your family healthy and hale.” You thought he might be referring to you for a moment, but no- the bearer of a title belonged to the patriarch (or matriarch, if it so happened). Anybody referring to “Lord Von Blum” would be speaking of the father here, as well. “Words as ever cannot express my gratefulness to you.”

“Don’t be so formal, Bastain,” Geroldt said, relaxed completely, “I’d think your family debts of any sort are being settled today, no?”

Barnabas Von Blum leaned on a cane tipped with a golden bulb emblazoned with his family sign, though you had seen him spry enough to not need it as any more than a symbol of status. “We pass from debt to brotherhood. Lady Von Tracht, I should hope that nobody has seen to give offense to you?”

Eda Von Tracht-Blutenstein was given no favors by the latter part of her surname. A disgraced, treasonous house. She shook her head. “Your guests have been respectful, as expected.”

“As expected. Yet upstarts have a way of defying even simple expectations,” Von Blum huffed gruffly. “They will not be suffered to give offense on this day to your son.”

“What about to your daughter?” you asked.

“Richter,” your mother scolded you warningly, but Lord Von Blum let it pass.

“She is to be joined to your house,” the old patriarch said, “She will be afforded your honor, at a minimum.”

“Speaking of that,” your father said, “Richter, you have decided your oath, yes?”

“I have.” An important element of marital ceremony, especially to the high houses’ appearances. If a daughter was given over to a lower noble, it was not seen as casting off the blood for some mutt to feed on like dinner scraps, and the Oath to the Father was part of such. It was something to swear to Lord Von Blum, upon him giving over Maddalyn to take up the name Von Tracht.
There were a few different sorts- rather simple, and well-reviewed by any priesthood that had enough brothers to call itself a sect. It was seen as radical to make your own oath from scratch- though tolerable so long as it was approved of by a holy man. They did not necessarily have to be backed up to the letter by action, but some respect towards the words in the future was expected by anybody who heard them.

>An Oath to Steel, that your force of arms, your blade, would be carried in honor of your Father-in-Law. Your glory would be his house’s, and your banner his and yours.
>The Oath to Hearth, that your progeny would be as his, after yourself. Your home was made in his lands, as your family was made in his daughter’s blood.
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.
>Other?

>>5360062
Well Hearth is out given Richter's entire motivation, even if our kids being born Von Blums isn't exactly a terrible thing.

Steel for much of the same reasons; though do the Von Trachts still owe that to the Archduke's line?

>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.

>>5360068
To specify, the Oath to Hearth isn't a case where they're legally Von Blum, but more an affirmation of allegiance to the house and its lands. Staying true to it wouldn't involve not having your kids be Von Tracht, but more along the lines of, not jumping over to another high house and favoring them over the stated home.
It's not as much a strict legal obligation as it may have been in older times when the territories that make up Strossvald were much more fractious, but as said, it's expected to at least be given consideration and lip service.
Third time's the charm.

>>5360056
Signy be looking fresh!
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.

>>5360076
Ah I see. How would Steel work with all the strings the IO has over Richter?

Whatever we swear, yet another thing to bond with Magnus if he managed to make it, I'm sure he totally ate up all of this when he was younger judging by his childhood friend.

>>5360089
>How would Steel work with all the strings the IO has over Richter?
There's overlap between Steel and Light in martial terms, but they have different sectors. The Oath to Steel isn't necessarily one of military allegiance or defense, but of honor and glory. A declaration where even if you aren't marching with a lord's host, you still carry his blade.
Which also means that if you fuck up you dishonor your lord, of course. It being an oath to prestige and glory rather than to the people and the land.

>>5360062
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.

>>5360062
>An Oath to Steel, that your force of arms, your blade, would be carried in honor of your Father-in-Law. Your glory would be his house’s, and your banner his and yours.

>>5360062
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.

>>5360062
>An Oath to Steel, that your force of arms, your blade, would be carried in honor of your Father-in-Law. Your glory would be his house’s, and your banner his and yours.
Both Steel and Light are ones I like, but I am just a little wary of Lord Von Blum. The oath of light is something that already aligns with our interests but I don't like something that long reaching for someone who's family is just a little shady.

>>5360062
>An Oath to Steel, that your force of arms, your blade, would be carried in honor of your Father-in-Law. Your glory would be his house’s, and your banner his and yours.

I don't want future Von Trachts beholden to them, given that the Kerfuffle is on the horizon. Besides, I'd see Richter pledging to be honorable in this scenario.

Also way out of left field, but the goddamn Kaisers are all wizard clones. Wizards goddamn everywhere. Even Richter has wizards being made out of him!

And speaking of magic bullshit, does anyone think that if we go full demiphantom possession hunting we can stop the Archduchy civil war? Would it be worth pursuing?

>>5360267
No, I don't want Richter to be possessed again, not worth it.

>>5360062
>>An Oath to Steel, that your force of arms, your blade, would be carried in honor of your Father-in-Law. Your glory would be his house’s, and your banner his and yours.

>>5360272
Presumably we would refine the process somewhat before trying again.

>>5360283
How exactly do you "refine the process" of submitting to the Demiphantom's wishes and allowing another spirit to intermingle with yours?

>>5360062
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.
Von Blum lances when?

>>5360288
Maybe we can create a partition of ourself like on a computer so we can run two spirits on the same system? Look man this is what we pay soulbinders for if we stick them in the research dungeon long enough I'm sure they'll figure all this stuff out.

>>5360068
>>5360087
>>5360124
>>5360139
>>5360294
The Oath of Light, the torch blazing in the night to come.

>>5360131
>>5360172
>>5360267
>>5360279
The Oath of Steel, the raised blade, the standard borne.

Writing.

>>5360056
D*gZAMN

Images like this assure me that Anyafags are, indeed, fags.

>>5360062
>Swear the Oath to Light, that no matter how far you went or the length of time, you would aid his house in its times of struggle. You and your progeny would be there in the darkest hours.
This seems the most in-line as a Von Tracht, and lets our kids keep our surname. Barnabas has what? Three sons to pass on his name already, plus Mathilda has four(?) older sisters ahead of her. Just makes sense.

>>5360381
I know I'm late but my vote won so fuck you.

Though your oath was not to be said until the moment it was supposed to be uttered, you’d decided by now, of course. Though it hadn’t been an easy, obvious choice. Your favored two were the Oath of Steel, a promise for glory, to not bring the shame of defeat or cowardice upon the house, and the Oath of Light, to return from wherever, whenever, to defend the home and blood in their most dire hour. Ultimately, you chose the latter. Perhaps it was the romance of it. Perhaps it was a recognition of what appeared more and more inevitable.
“I would presume Steel,” Barnabas Von Blum said, a guess that he did not wish indulged, “Your son has an adventurous character about him, to say the least.”

“One we would rather he relax from,” your mother said, slightly discomforted, as she hugged you.

Well, it wouldn’t be a poor betrayal of expectations.

“I will not disappoint you, mother, father, Lord Von Blum.” You bowed your head, “Whatever your expectations may be.

Mother and father did not need to say what they expected. They had ever told you they wished for you to live happily- your goals for yourself had ever been more lofty than their plans had been. How you wished that grandfather and grandmother, and your uncle, might have seen you now as well. Yet Von Blum closed his tired eyes, and you wondered what he was thinking to say.

“Once, Maddalyn Annelie Erdelia was my most beloved daughter,” he said, suddenly distant, “I should hope she has learned from her mistakes, so that you know at least some of my adoration. I do not give her unto you without care. She has not redeemed herself by far. But I can trust you to not act with spite or hatred. In time, I will be glad for your happiness.”
A strange comment, and you and your fiancée had not been without tensions in the past, but you nodded, bowed.

Any further time was interrupted by summons, ahead of those of others. A pair of bridesmaids- representatives of both families, for what could be represented by yours.

The girl who looked identical to your bride today could be distinguished not by the false mole she usually wore, but by the exact style of her dress- and that she only wore a half veil that cascaded down one side of her face and not the other. For Mathilda’s purpose on this day as bridesmaid was to lure away evil spirits, traditionally, and her eerily exact appearance made her the best suited, on top of being a sister. She said nothing to you- only slipped her glove down to the elbow, and gave you just enough sight of discolored, twisted flesh to set you at ease. Did she know? She had been away most of the time between then and now.

In a strange twist of fate, the other woman was similarly mutilated, but in a far wider spread manner. However, a heroic effort to hide the numerous scars and burns and discoloration had been made. Hilda was a far, far different shape and size of body to Mathilda, but she wore the same half-veil and silvery-blue dress. She was still a homely woman- but the experts had afforded her a country beauty like a rough gem cut and polished, you had never been able to see through to before. Hilda couldn’t have a place in the ceremony without this- it was barely tolerable that a lowborn woman would have such a position as a principle bridesmaid in the first place, if her numerous uglier traits were allowed to show through, the high nobility would faint of shock. As things stood now, Hilda was merely the small controversy of an honored commoner, favored for deeds and loyalty, though her belly was beginning to push out more now, a separate controversy that would remain unspoken of.

“Oh, you look gorgeous, dear!” Your mother said sweetly as she embraced Hilda, making sure not to touch any of the thick painting needed to hide her scarring all over her body.

Your father had to squint at Mathilda still. “You truly do look exactly like your sister.”

“I do, Sir Von Tracht,” Mathilda bent at the shoulders and bowed ever so slightly, bobbing up and down at the knees. Her tone was stilted and formal- and no less disturbingly alike Maddalyn’s voice. “It is time.”

So it was. You bid a temporary farewell, and followed the two women to the altar where you would soon be standing, waiting, for this day’s most tense moment, trying not to sweat and stain your well pressed uniform any further.

-----

You joined the priest at the altar, a Brother of Valiance, named Adler, though such would not be his true name. He had a tired darkness around his eyes- priests were not numerous enough to fulfill even the reduced duties asked for them, and they were hardly encouraged to practice beyond that a man who guided faith often had the respect given to those who pursued what they believed was right despite not benefiting from it particularly. He wore a dress similar to a tabard worn by a knight of old, along with the hint of pauldrons and gorget embossed onto thicker parts of the clothes. Brothers of Valiance were expected to be veterans of battle, and you had no doubt that this greying-hair man had seen at least some.

The crowds filed in. Some amongst the rear rows were men you had invited- rowdier sorts, who had been cautioned against uproar but would do it for the sake of it anyways. You’d have much rather had them at the front of the ceremony, but custom forbid it. At least they were allowed to be there at all.

Silence, besides the soft droning of pipes as you looked down the garden’s aisle, off the platform you stood on, and were able to see Maddalyn for the first time in days.

A translucent white veil hid her face and her hair, a bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers in her hands, smaller than normal, as to not make a mockery of her tiny size. Her father led her up, by her side, an arm in hers. You stared, tried not to shake, as you met Lord Von Blum in front of the podium he was not to step upon himself, for it was for you, Maddalyn, and the Judge’s witness.

“Lord Von Blum,” you said as rehearsed, “I vow to you, to bestow upon your house mine protection and stalwart heart, to drive forth the darkness of the night that dares set itself upon thy blood and lands. As your blood is bound to mine, I shall be your Light, and no despair will descend so long as I draw breath and stand.”

Barnabas Von Blum tilted his head up in what seemed a small amount of surprise, and lifted his cane, touching its head to your shoulder, then raising it. “Your solemn Oath to Light is heard before my blood, and the Judge Above. I set mine flesh and blood to step forth as she wishes, for she has my blessing to go to you.”

>Blessing of a King’s Majesty- Bane of Dark and Shadow

He set his cane down, and Maddalyn stepped forward, beside you, stealing only a small glance through her veil before she ascended beside you.

Most of the priest, Adler’s speech, blurred by you, as you peered to Maddalyn. She was so lovely. So soft, pristine. Admiration and affection mixed purity and filth together. You hungered for her so badly your guts gnawed, but when she smiled gently at you, through that shimmering cloud of cloth, you wished to kneel. That your father and comrades watched you kept your knees and shoulders straight.

Finally.

“The Judge Above grants his protection in the will of warriors,” Adler said in a rough edged tone, “To defend house and blood is thine sacred duty, Warrior Von Tracht. Maddalyn Von Blum has come to you of her duty and will, should you think to shirk thine duty, then turn and retreat, in dignity. Else, commit to your bride your declaration of eternal duty.”

He closed his book, and though nobody expected you to turn and leave, there was still a silence as you slipped a golden ring onto Maddalyn’s finger, lifted her veil, and bent down to kiss her on the lips.

That moment felt eternal- you forced back the temptation to push your tongue into her mouth and feel her hot, labored breath and make her chin wet with drool, to take her as fiercely as your heart demanded, for this was a respectful ceremony. That soft touch later, her arms clasped about your neck and yours around her waist, you separated, to polite applause from the front, and a din of hollering and hoots and wails from the back as a smattering of enlisted tankers and Silver Lances showed the high nobility exactly what they thought of all their manners.

File: tcqscene208.png (2.15 MB, 826x1500)

2.15 MB PNG

“There were times when I thought this moment would never come,” Maddalyn spoke finally, her voice thin and glad, “I love you, Richter.”

Maddalyn took her bouquet, and flung it as hard as she could into the air, and where it finally tumbled to, you did not look. Your wife was protected by you now- she no longer need defend herself from evil with a veil and flowers.

>Who is lucky enough to catch it? Votes will be chances, and a dice rolled to decide whose hands it lands in.

“I love you too,” you said as you lifted Maddalyn up by her knees and her back, and carried her back down between the rows of guests. The party would begin again- and you had more people to speak with as music roused once more and the cheers and applause continued. She was now Maddalyn Von Tracht- in the eyes of man and God.

-----

A series of slaps on the back greeted you as you reunited with your platoon from the Silver Lances- Van Halm, with a crutch keeping him standing, and his younger brother accompanying him, and both Von Rotenhofs, Stevan having mostly recovered. They gathered with their crews, as well as your substitute gunner and radio operator, a few Republic men like Planckner, as well as your other platoon…though Anya had decided to keep her distance.

“What a catch,” Hausen whistled in admiration with a scrape and a bow, “Lady Maddalyn Von Tracht-Blum, your new husband spoke much of you.”

“Knock it off,” Schafer said gruffly. “Major. I didn’t know you were an adherent of Valiance.”

“Well,” you turned your head to the side, “I’m not exactly the best practicioner…”

“Eh. Bullshit.” Schafer closed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I heard this guy shot down a plane,” Stein said jealously, pointing, “Is that true?”

“Don’t play it up so damn much,” Schafer muttered.

“Vehrlors would’ve liked to come here,” Elder Von Rotehof approached you and saluted, bowed to Maddalyn in your arms, “He’d be happy you made it this far. Further than he got.”

“Ah, Maddalyn,” you noticed Maddalyn seeming lost, “These are my comrades. My friends. You know some of them, but I ought to introduce you to them…I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.”

“Don’t think she needs to hear all the stories,” Schafer said lowly. “Not from us.”

“No,” Maddalyn shook her head, “I want to hear from you, all of you. It would be my honor.”

Schafer and Hausen looked skeptically to your other crewmen. Malachi spattered out a jumbled phrase, that Jorgen agreed with.

“Shae’s reallfeng,” he slurred- somebody had given him a cup a bit early. “Naeda baellshedder.”

“Yeah,” Hans, cut in, “The Princess gives respect where it’s due. Don’t hold yourself back. We certainly didn’t.”

“…Better get ready for your arms to get tired then, Major,” Schafer said with a sigh.

As you mingled, though, you noticed more significant observers- Pfortner, you recognized the pudgy, square shape of, but there was also the barely recognizable form of your battalion commander Jagdmeister- and beside him, by the markings on his black and blue uniform, trimmed with silver, could only be the General der Lanz, Goldfolger.

A true honor, though you couldn’t salute them with Maddalyn in your arms.

>Take care of anything else at the wedding, besides this mingling? (Who to speak with, about?)
>Have your part in the afterparty. A short part. Because you needed to take Maddalyn home.
>Other?

>>5360903
Well besides this bunch:
Go greet the senior officers for a bit, not everyday you get to meet the General Der Lanz

Check if Magnus was able to make it.

Alina asked us to pass a letter to Stefan last thread iirc so settle that if it hasn't been.

>>5360900
>spoilers
Damn spooky, but not unexpected.

>>5360901
>Who is lucky enough to catch it?
Hilda. Girl NEEDS this.
Anya’s on the romantic come up as we speak and Signy COULD get married at any time when she decides to stop idolin it up.

>>5360903
>Take care of anything else at the wedding, besides this mingling? (Find Magnus and chat it up with him, Lord Wossehn, to see if this party was everything he imagined. And we can hit a two for one with Goldfolger and Jagdmeister)

>>5360918
This too.
Hopefully we can do all this before Richter's arms get tired.

>>5360903
Yay, it finally happened! Now it's officially no longer a harem quest

Supporting >>5360918

>>5360903
Interesting blessing Lord Von Blum has there, wonder if it does anything against spooky stuff

Take care of anything else at the wedding, besides this mingling? (Who to speak with, about?)
Supporting
>>5360918
>>5360971

>>5360903
>>5360971
support

>>5360900
can't wait to see what the blessing/bane gives us

>>5360901
gotta throw in a chance for
>Anya
I think it would be neat. Also might come with a side effect of easing Maddy's insecurity if Anya is seen as having other romantic prospects. I'd really like for them to make up one day.

>>5360903
>Take care of anything else at the wedding, besides this mingling? (Who to speak with, about?)
Don't want to leave out Pfortner if we're talking to the brass, I like him.
I wonder if we can spot an inconspicuous Poltergeist in the crowd, though we probably wouldn't want to talk to him with Maddy
Maybe talk to the parents again, with the bride this time, maybe get some advice.
Might be a good idea to see if any of the nobles we met at our debut are around, and to greet them.

I can't believe it finally happened.

My eyes aren't wet, yours are!
>>5360901
>Who is lucky enough to catch it?
Hilda if only because there's no way Maddy's dyel nerd arms could throw something far enough to reach Anya and the common soldiery in the back row heh
>>5360903
>Take care of anything else at the wedding, besides this mingling?
Previous suggestions are all good.
Are speeches usually performed after a Valiance Church wedding? Are we about to roast/get roasted?

>>5360897
>and gave you just enough sight of discolored, twisted flesh to set you at ease. Did she know?
That's pretty concerning. This means either that Mathilda somehow found out about Maddalyn's stunt (how?) or, even more concerning, that Maddalyn impersonates her sister so frequently that Mathilda just correctly assumed that she must have already tried it on us by now. This had better not become a regular problem.

Rolled 1 (1d5)

>>5360918
>>5360985
>>5360975
Go to the higher command staff.
Look for girly boots.

>>5360971
>>5360985
>>5361000
Go for that Golden Sun.

>>5361050
The company commander, and the household.

>>5361134
And previous.

>>5360971
>>5360985
>>5361000
Hilda
>>5361050
Anya
>>5361134
Hilda.

If this roll is a four then the winds of fate really have it out for hosing Hilda.

Writing.

>>5361134
>Are speeches usually performed after a Valiance Church wedding? Are we about to roast/get roasted?
Frankly, you'd be in your right to head straight out, since this ceremony is a mish-mash of different traditions that weren't made in mind for each other anyways. Messing about with the men is more intended for the separation days- or maybe the day after.

You hadn’t met with Pfortner yet- so you went to greet your former commanding officer, though he had found himself new to the job, having replaced the former commander who had fallen in the Battle of Sundersschirm, Von Silbertau. He recognized your approach, and saluted when you stopped in front of him, a flinty gaze professional, but not expecting your hands to free themselves from transporting a lady of a high house, especially one you were just married to.

“Major Von Tracht,” he said.

“Major Pfortner,” you said back, “Or have you been promoted? If your position is permanent.”

He nodded stiffly. “I am a Lieutenant Colonel now. A necessary promotion, even if it isn’t particularly welcome.”

“I believe you deserve it, at least.”

A respectful nod again. Though. “Compliments won’t have me regret my decision.” Not that you’d have it that way. The platoon had gone off knowing that they wouldn’t get off free for your brashness. With five months to go of having slashed pay and another eleven before a suspended sentence was nullified, Pfortner’s lash was still felt, but you knew it was not spiteful. The opposite, even. So you respected him. “Now that you are a major, perhaps you’ll see how troublesome it can be when a captain or lieutenant decides to go off on an adventure.” His tone was stern, but that was just the nature of his voice. He waved it off like he was speaking a joke. “Though by the same token,” he pointed to your Silver Shield, “A small unit, a lone team, can have quite the impact if they have the sort of daring that tempts them, can’t it?”

“Maybe fate’s revenge on me will show itself in a less strenuous circumstance.” Maybe you could contain any fury as well as Pfortner had seemed to.

“I apologize for any inconvenience my husband caused you,” Maddalyn said in a haughty voice.

That brought the smallest smirk to Pfortner’s otherwise jowly, ever frowned face. “Keep it a secret from him,” he feigned whispering, as you could most clearly hear it, “But the Beast Hunter of Fourth Company was mostly well behaved. Though I apologize if his cut in pay causes any financial difficulty to your family.”

Maddalyn giggled slightly, and you shook your head.

“I suppose you’ve had your taste of freebooting for now, though,” Pfortner returned to a serious tone, “The Lances are never hesitant to welcome former members back, remember.”

“Yes, sir,” you said.

“Fourth Company will remember, as well. I’ve done my best to prevent the attendant members from making this marriage memorable in a less pleasant way,” he squinted through his round glasses at some who must have been particularly disreputable. “And I should continue to do that, by the looks of things. I have a last message to pass along.” He pointed with a thumb, “Reserve Battalion’s commander and the Generalleutnant Goldfolger are present. They wished to see you in person.”

“Right away. Lieutenant Colonel…thank you.”

“At east, Major.” Pfortner tilted his head, “You’ve more important people to speak with.”

As you carried Maddalyn over, she said to you, “He isn’t the sort of man I’d expect from your Silver Lances.”

“Some people wouldn’t expect me.”

“Ridiculous.”

Your posture stiffened as you walked before your two former unit superiors, and you squared your feet off, and said in a clear and loud voice. “Oberst Jagdmeister, Generalleutnant Goldfolger. Major Richter Von Tracht, of the Blumlands Special Mechanized Force Demi-Battalion. You summoned me?”

Jagdmeister cackled harshly, though Goldfolger saluted. The higher officer, the General Der Lanz, had a tall, willowy frame, a sharp chin and a long nose, with narrow eyes and deep bags beneath them, that had an eternally condescending slant- an odd feeling that, despite how much he tried to look plain, he often looked confident in superiority. A look complemented by a silvered and blue cloak that fluttered in the wind.

“You forget to salute, boy?” Jagdmeister teased. You were caught off guard- you had seen Jagdmeister very seldomly before, and his sharp features and grey tufted hair gave him the fierce appearance of a hawk, though his grin had been stolen now from a jackal.

Some clever thought rolled through your head, and you heaved Maddalyn up to your shoulder with a huff of effort, sitting her up there with your arm supporting your side- leaving your arm free to salute properly.

Jagdmeister cocked an eyebrow. “An advantage to her small frame, eh?”

“Colonel,” Goldfolger coughed slightly, “As much as peacetime is for relaxation, take some care that this young man may not have learned the depth of that.”

“Eh, he was mine as much as I’m yours, General. He can take it.”

“Regardless.” Goldfolger bowed at the waist to Maddalyn, “Lady Von Blum.”

“Generalleutnant,” your wife answered. A simple payment of respect from even this prestigious officer.

“Major,” he regarded you next, “I’ve heard that you’ve received a fortuitous double promotion. Either your talent or luck has been recognized, clearly.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, “Though it is from my new father in law…”

“You are special, no doubt,” Goldfolger said, “Not many men would doubt you after that night of your defense against that armored assault, even if that song is not what most choose to sing about, hm?”

A little shiver in your spine. That had been a night so bad, you had been forced to use the Hellfire Shell, against men. An act that had you on edge for weeks, and had repercussions you were fortunate enough to never fully discover, if the soulbinders prowling about searching were any indication. If anything, you were saved by how unassuming they must have assumed a tank in a warzone was.

Yet Goldfolger knew something. Suspected something, from the look in his eye, though he couldn’t have understood what.

“You’ve a very interesting career, Von Tracht,” he said, rubbing his pointed chin, “Incredibly intriguing. With that in mind, I won’t demand you come back right away. After all, Jagdmeister might be hurt that one of his whipping boys is of rank to talk back so soon. However, should you grow nostalgic to take up Helman’s lance once more…speak directly to me. You’ve proven your worth as a normal soldier.”

“I…would be honored, Generalleutnant,” you said, hesitant.

“Good.” A quick up and down of that sharp chin. “Do not strain yourself before then. I would rather you remain young when we work together again.”

“I’ll try not to be too long.”

“You and your close comrades both. You should know, having lost some. When you are with them, they say to you with what smile they can muster…”I’ll see you then.” Many years after, when all of them are gone and you are the only one left? You cannot help but ask the night, “When will I join you?” It is an unpleasantness of true old age. So, mind that.” He turned to Jagdmeister, “Especially when some of them don’t ever seem to quite jump out.”

Some exposure of his spirit, but your guard was not down.

“That was all, Von Tracht,” Goldfolger said with a salute. “We can save anything further for when we work together once more. Send ahead what sort of beer you prefer then.”

“Sir.” Though you’d have liked to have chatted a little more, it seemed he was already short on time, with how he spoke something to Jagdmeister, and they both immediately turned about to walk off.

As you were left, you searched, asked your crew and officers who knew him for any sign of Magnus or his mates. There were none- and no distinctive Netillian cavalry uniforms, either. You did see Anya searching about- and she looked discomforted. Agitated.

A shame- though you did remember to get Stefan to stay in the area a while. You’d need to have somebody else deliver it with how occupied you were, but Anya’s sister had wanted a letter presented to him. You half wondered what it might be- and half were willing to guess already.

Instead, you found an incredibly easy to locate gentleman. Lord Wossehn, in all his glittering, also escorted by Republic guardsmen but in constant defiance of their efforts to keep around and about his person.

“If it isn’t the man of the hour, and the damsel of the day,” Lord Wossehn spread his arms out in an embrace of the air between you- and you saw that his very hair had been dyed white blonde (or perhaps it was a wig), causing him to glow even more than his clothes first impressed. “Richter Von Tracht, Maddalyn Von Tracht-Blum,” he bowed far too deeply and scraped too much to be seen as anything but obsequious to what small court manners you knew, but perhaps he felt he needed to compensate. Or he was physically incapable of overacting, like he was of unable to hold back being verbose, and…creative with language. “Sparkradiance and sunripples, your family keeps fine company, my lady.”

“Ah, I remember you,” Maddalyn said with a small gasp, “You’re the dandy that was such help.”

“Ho ho, a dandy? you flatter this gregariman, my lady,” another deep sweeping bow, “Did your man tell you of his newfound wealth?” Maddalyn nodded. “I’ve glad tidings for him and you, then. Your company has, as I foresawdictated, struck black, runny gold. Though of course, they’re afforded the chance to probe about by your efforts, hm?”

“That’s good news,” you agreed, though you wondered just how much time you truly had been a majority stockholder in this new company to be informed like this. They hadn’t even completed setting up mail correspondence with your household.

“Indeed, you’ll be able to return my loan in no time,” as ridiculous as he seemed, he never strayed from business.

“Is this what you expected?’ You asked Wossehn, whose first name you knew but which seemed unfitting without the mouthful of its other parts. “Is it as…splendorous as you would want it to be?”

“Why, no, my good man,” Wossehn said, as though proud, “It is not splendorous, but dignified, a quiet and regal beauty. A humbling surrounding to draw inspiration into the spirit. Ah.”

You presumed that the basic answer was, yes, he was a fan.

Maddalyn began to weigh on your shoulder, and you tapped her to slide down into your arms once more. Something Wossehn did not fail to notice.
“Ah, should you truly linger here? I will not be offended if our conversation is brief, dear Richter. This is far from our only chance at communications.”

“I’m fine,” you said, but Maddalyn put a hand on your chest. “…Though I suppose I shouldn’t tempt misfortune. I’ve done plenty of that these past years.”

“This is her day, remember,” Wossehn said with a wave, “Not the rest of ours. Never fear, I am plenty entertained, ho ho.”

“Don’t be in a hurry to leave,” you said with a wave yourself, what you could muster, “I’m finding plenty of free time, not being off on some adventure…”

So you carried Maddalyn out, followed by a train of well-wishers, passing Hilda- who now bore the bride’s bouquet, though she gave it little regard, staying with your parents. Mother gave you one more hug, and a rub of your head, Maddalyn included in the former and being squashed between you. A courier car waited to pick you up- and a trailing car with armed guards, of course, to take you to where you both could have some privacy from the party. A house reserved for guests, now reserved for you- and it would be delightfully empty.

Which was good, because Maddalyn’s mouth was being assaulted and her wedding dress being pulled off her body before you even passed through the doors to the bedroom.

-----

Yet.

Though you kissed her passionately, and she returned it, though you were both in your underclothes, and you both on the bed, your loins tearing against your briefs to be let out and your hands rubbing between Maddalyn’s legs as you made out, you felt…a recalcitrance in her. She wasn’t acting aroused as she often did when you fooled around. She didn’t croon and sigh, whispering sweet things. She felt…tense. Balled up, and cold. She didn’t drool when you kissed.

A quick and eager hand slipped her panties from around her hips and pulled them down, away from her thighs and over her little feet, tossing them on the bed by her, and tried to work your best magic. A long, loving lick, and a deep kiss, but she seemed to resist, even as you went in, around, teased and played with her for long minutes.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, puzzled.

File: tcqscene209.png (1.38 MB, 856x1000)

1.38 MB PNG

“N-no,” Maddalyn whispered, then swallowed, “…I’m just…j-just…I’m scared.”

“What are you afraid of, darling?” You stroked her cheek. A flash of concern broke through the steaming fog of desire in your mind.

“It’s…It’s nothing, truly,” Maddalyn said, looking crestfallen, “Just a silly feeling…just something I need to get used to. Just…just do it, Richter. We are husband and wife…” She put a hand to your crotch- felt the thing that was prepared for battle, had been pounded at the gates of your head to be released for this day, clawed and gnashed its teeth now that it knew the moment was so close, and its enthusiasm was terrible infectious. “We are in love, aren’t we? So we should make love…no matter what fear I have inside…”

You nodded, kissed her. Only, you were just wary that Maddalyn didn’t seem to feel the same, despite you doing plenty that melted her well enough in the past.

>She gave her permission. She asked you to. To deny her would be an insult. Let loose the amorous reckoning.
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…
>No. Even if it was your wedding evening, you just couldn’t. Wouldn’t. If she didn’t feel up to it and couldn’t explain it, then that was that.
>Other?

>>5361812
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…

By all means do it, but gently.

>>5361812
Oh man. I don't know how we're supposed to act in this situation, especially since it might be related to Maddy's sorcery, and not just anxiety.

>Ask if Maddalyn had an indecent fantasy of Richter that we could act out now.
Maybe if she were to guide us through the process, her fear will be lessened. And if she can't do even that, maybe we should delay the consummation to not ruin the experience.

>>5361812
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…
Really hope this is "take things slow" as opposed to "continue circling the drain" like they've been doing these past months.
And hopefully once we've got the awkward virginal fumblins of round one outta the way, Richter will be able to unleash that "amorous reckoning", as it were.

>>5361812
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…

>>5361812
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…

>>5361832
+1
Hopefully this is just a first time thing, and whatever she's afraid of goes away after or perhaps during this.

>>5361812
>Hold back. Keep yourself in check. This was new to both of you, and below the psyching up, maybe you had to be careful, frightened, too…
Supporting >>5361839 's idea of suggesting Richter try some kind of role play, if that were make things more fun and get Maddy into the spirit

>>5361832
>>5361841
>>5361886
>>5361894
>>5361924
Do it gently.

>>5361839
>>5361932
Ask if she's into something.

Roll a d10. Only one, first come first serve. Endurance. Then, gonna write.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

UOOOOOOH

AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA
LADS, I'M SO SORRY
IN OUR BEST UNIFORM TOO

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>5361959

>>5361959
Incredible.

Final thoughts lingered as you shuffled your underclothes off and knelt over Maddalyn, trying to keep yourself in check, to not just dive in as much as your lower half demanded. She was frightened- perhaps, to make her more comfortable, you had to share in that…at least for a little while.

You lowered yourself, touched her, guided yourself forth.

“Hn…” Maddalyn made a discomforted squeak as you became one.

Her body resisted, but you pressed forth as steadily and gently as possible, holding her closer, consoling her trembling best as you could…but she was so warm within, so soft, and the difficulty of the act made it so much more enticing…and you eased yourself, testing, further.

“Hgh!” Maddalyn quivered with a pained gasp, “O-ouch! Stop!” She put a hand on your chest and turned her head away, “St-stop a moment…”

You obeyed, dismayed, but her noises were so cute, even if they were discomforted, small, and she continued to squeeze you so tightly within her, just with how small she was within. When you swayed back and forth but a few more times, you felt yourself losing control, so quickly you couldn’t stop…

“U-urgh…” you sputtered, “Ah…” You gripped Maddalyn to your chest as you felt your mind slip away, for a few moments of ecstasy, and you remained linked for another minute, still twitching, still gulping air… “S-sorry…” you apologized, withdrawing, and looking down between Maddalyn’s legs. There was blood…and plenty evidence of your lack of endurance. Judge Above, could you have not lasted even two minutes? She did feel incredible around your manhood, in the time you lasted…

“I…” Maddalyn looked sideways, “It’s alright. I was…it only hurt for a minute, this way…”

“Hm,” you lay down beside her, and let her nestle against your chest, stroked her back, “I suppose I didn’t want to hurt you, so…” Yet it couldn’t end like that, could it? You had the rest of the night to yourselves, though it certainly felt like she’d already drained you dry. “If you want to keep going….is there anything you’d like to be indulged in? To make it more comfortable for you?”

“…There’s something,” she said, but she shook her head. “I don’t think you’d want it right now. It’s not a good idea, I just have to…get over it.” She looked into your eyes, still melancholy, but better than the look she had before you had taken one another’s virginity. “Was it that good..?”

Or you were just that bad. “For me, at least.”

Maddalyn pushed her head into your chest, rubbed her hand on your shoulder, “It’s my favorite part, you know…the catch in your voice, how you shiver, and melt into me, how your body tells more than words could…I love how I make you feel…”

She’d expressed this before, and you weren’t sure if it was a pity you wanted right now. As you recuperated, you tried to understand one another, talked, stroked and caressed one another, though you ever felt that fear, the tension in her body, and the apprehension in her eyes, that wasn’t willing to tell you all there was to her feelings, even when you made a second attempt at properly making love, while she wasn’t too sore to stand more.

-----

Elsewhere, another soul, briefly…

You didn’t understand it.

No, you knew what might be going on, but it felt so wrong. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t make a promise and then…just blow it off. Not unless he wanted to drive you away. Make you angry. Exile you from his life and future.

You wore your uniform as best you could. Stood at attention outside the wedding, where Richter and his new wife had long left, the sun setting, most people having left the ceremony for the city.

He said he’d be there…

“Hey, Fluffy,” Hans, Richter’s old crewman called to you as he and a bunch of others were leaving, “What are you standing out here for? Blue bloods get to you that bad?”
“Nah.” You didn’t want to talk.

“We’re going out on the town,” he walked closer, leaned on the wall next to you, “Get some drinks, snack food. C’mon. You look like you got dumped.”

“No I don’t,” you bristled, “That’s retarded. Dumped by who?”

Hans shrugged. “Your choice, fluffy. Nobody’s gonna complain about having a girl along. ‘Specially not you.” He turned and started to walk back to the group.

>No. You were waiting here. He’d come. You knew it. You’d already waited a while, you could go until you fell asleep standing up.
>Fuck it. This wasn’t the first time somebody hadn’t been what you hoped. At least you were wanted, over with the boys.
>You didn’t want to be here, or with anybody else. You wanted to be alone. (Where?)
>Other?

>>5361979
>No. You were waiting here. He’d come. You knew it. You’d already waited a while, you could go until you fell asleep standing up.

I'm not particularly a Magnus and Anya person but she'd wait imo.

>>5361979
>Other
Can we leave a message with a servant or guard telling Magnus where to meet us if he shows up later? We can meet him at some conspicuous spot in the city later tonight. Then we just need to avoid getting so drunk that we forget to go there at the proper time.

>>5361979
>No. You were waiting here. He’d come. You knew it. You’d already waited a while, you could go until you fell asleep standing up.
please don’t be dead…

>>5361979
>No. You were waiting here. He’d come. You knew it. You’d already waited a while, you could go until you fell asleep standing up.
Lol Hilda managed to get out of her curse and now it's Anya's turn.

>>5361978
>“I don’t think you’d want it right now. It’s not a good idea, I just have to…get over it
Hmmm, clearly she means cunny-lingus. But what if there was another way of pleasuring a woman with one's tongue? A... darker path?

>>5361979
>Fuck it. This wasn’t the first time somebody hadn’t been what you hoped. At least you were wanted, over with the boys.

Do you remember how ya'll voted for Magnus to go for his hitherto unmentioned childhood friend back home instead of Anya?

>>5361979
>>5361992
Have a drink, kick a man in the balls. Who knows, maybe it will summon him.

File: Spoiler Image (188 KB, 594x655)

188 KB PNG

>>5361979
>Fuck it. This wasn’t the first time somebody hadn’t been what you hoped. At least you were wanted, over with the boys.
With the addition of >>5361992's note idea
As much as I'd love for Anya to have her happy reunion tonight I think the milk is already spilt so there's no use standing around all night when the crews already offered to take her out.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5361983
>>5361997
>>5362000
This is hardly the worst place you've waited for a while.

>>5361992
>>5362015
>>5362142
Get somebody to take a note.

>>5362008
>>5362015
>>5362142
Having such high standards is bad for the spirit.


Flipping, then writing, 1 for staying, 2 for going. I'm assuming >>5362015 with the mention of kicking men and drinking is a matter of going with.

>>5362266
On second thought, I'm thinking that leaving a note is probably in the "go" camp, so I'm going with that. If I'm misinterpreting though feel free to say so.

>>5361979
>Fuck it. This wasn’t the first time somebody hadn’t been what you hoped. At least you were wanted, over with the boys.
Leave a message, it doesn't mean he won't come but simply waiting here won't cut it.

You watched the group get smaller, grit your teeth. He said he’d be here, you thought, and you’d be waiting…you wanted to be the first to see. What if he died? Bullshit. That wouldn’t have happened, you shot back inside your head. You’d gone back so recently just to make sure that didn’t happen. Went yourself to see where that girly haired knight had gone, threw yourself and some of the old band into the fire, shot at whoever had gotten in the way with that abandoned Netillian tank that you and those hogs had gotten to. You’d never been much a believer in an arbiter of good for good people and punishment for the evil- it seemed too good to be true, especially with your early lot in life, but Hell had been upset by that denial. Schweinmann had reframed it in a way easier for you to digest, that you’d chosen to stick with. If there wasn’t a hell to go to, then all the evil people in the world got off free when they died.

That had been a worse reality than you came to want to accept.

That piece of shit god hiding wherever he did had earned some points when you were lucky enough to find that way to get to Magnus, though. You knew he was alive, and that he’d get here…it just wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

If he didn’t come then fuck him, you tried to rationalize in your head. Some people just didn’t like you. A lot of people, actually. He’d told you somebody already snagged him, but it was somebody he admitted he hadn’t seen in a while, hardly knew for years. Was that really worth it for him?

Then, he could have that, you smoldered and seethed, after all, if you actually liked him, shouldn’t you want him to be happy? He’d be happier with you, wouldn’t he?

You tried not to think about it all. How he’d defended you against his men, how he’d danced with you, talked with you, roamed the night, when you were on different sides of a war, he let you go without any tricks. Thought more. How he wasn’t tied to a particular country, but an ideal, how he followed where the wind blew, steered his own course even through danger and battle. How badly you wanted somebody who would come with you wherever you went.

Everything told you that he was worth whatever fight there was to have for, but if he didn’t even show up…

“Hold on a sec!” you called, having an idea as you went to the gate guards to the hilltop villa, like a fort over a city. Probably was, once. “Hey, you, halberd guy,” you pointed to a guard as you approached, “You got some paper or somethin’? Somebody’s gonna be here, and I need this given to ‘em.”

For once in your life, you weren’t given sass. They knew who you were. “Yes, m’am?”

“A sexy- uh, pretty guy with long black hair tied in a braid, wears a blue sash, has blue eyes and walks like…” you trailed off, “His name’s Magnus Edelschwert. When he comes around, you give him that note, tell him to meet me at that place, at that time. Yeah?”

The guard accepted the paper, but he had a look of pity that infuriated you. “It’s quite late, m’am. I believe he wouldn’t come to a place where the event will surely be over soon, for most.
”
“Just…do it,” you pointed at him, “Alright? Alright.”

It left some hope open. Meant you didn’t have to accept what might have happened, despite your faith. You didn’t want to lose that, just in case he did come, and you had been the one to abandon him…what would he think of that? It made your legs heavy as you walked to catch up with the men you’d fought along with, to think about. No, you were still waiting…you just had to not get too drunk.

Maybe some liquid courage would make sure you could do what you wanted when he got there.

-----

Two beers down. A third one in the hand. They were easy to take when they were given for free to your group. It made you talkative- and the guys were nothing if not eager listeners, so you ended up telling them where you’d been. How you had been entered into the Archduke’s Own Panzer Academy, but your doubts had carried you back to Netilland, to find the mercenary group you once called home, and got their help again. They always seemed willing, but…you couldn’t go back like they wanted. You just couldn’t.

The last time you and Magnus had talked, he’d pissed you off. He told you he had to stay in the war. That he couldn’t do what you wanted him to do. Told you about Yuliana, his silver haired girl, and his twelve year promise. Told how you couldn’t understand how he could be tied down to something that mattered so little to where he was now.

It was an angry, sputtering story by then. Maybe some men expected you to cry, but you refused to do that. You were a warrior, and no warrior ever got what they wanted by having a pity party and bawling. That was what stupid, weak people did, when they didn’t have the strength to carve their own path in the world. Maybe you were a bit stupid, but you weren’t weak. Not even with a bum arm.
To be honest, you shouldn’t have been this deep in the cups, but Mal was here. Mal wouldn’t let anybody here take advantage of you getting tipsy. This tavern was full of people you knew, or who those people knew. Complete strangers were few and far between.

“You givin’ Mal pretty eyes, Fluffy?” Hans said, on your left side, standing at the same bar as you in this tavern, echoing with smooth, mournful wind instruments. “I think he’s more your type than that girly man.”
Malachi waved his hands in denial.

“Well, I’m not his type,” you said what everybody knew, “Hair’s not green enough.”

“You’re green where it counts,” Hans said with a mocking chuckle, and you felt his hand take a tight hold of your butt. Clever little shit, he was on the side of you where you couldn’t swing an arm back and wallop him. Not so clever, he forgot that you preferred using your feet anyways.

So Hans was sent to the floor in a two-part retaliation, where your heel shot up to his crotch and you tangled his legs up with that same foot as he weakened at the knees, sending him sprawling to the floor. The other lads appreciated the show with mocking laughter.

“Swear you like getting whacked,” you scowled, “Aren’t you plowing Stein’s sis? Thought you were more about the chest.”

Stein coughed, though he wasn’t next to you.

“I don’t wanna bed you, Fluffy, no offense,” Hans groaned as he pulled himself off the floor, “I’m thinkin’ of getting her back soon, actually. Figured somethin’ out. With the new unit, she might have a place back here. Stein convinced me to at least try it, though I don’t know if she’ll bite. ‘til then, I’m still on the prowl, like you ought to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “I ain’t on no prowl.”

“I hate to break it to you,” he said in response, “But you’re single. I didn’t hear you sayin’ you put a ring on ol’ Edelschwert. Still don’t know what you see in him.”

“Piss off,” you growled, “…he’s handsome. He’s got long, black hair, and he carries himself like he could fight the world.” He reminded you of him. Maybe that was why you got stuck in the first place, and nobody you told was any help.

“And if he doesn’t think the same of you?” Stein asked from down the way.

“…”

“Ey.” Malachi chirped a warning. “Donnese.”

“It’s cool, Mal,” you said, wondering how much tighter you could hold this glass before it smashed apart in your fingers. That’d be nice to have happen now.

“I mean, what’s the plan,” Stein pressed, drawing a circle on the bar with a finger, “You going to pine over one guy your whole life that doesn’t even think the same way? Doesn’t sound like you.” He was right, you hated the idea of that. You’d have to look yourself in the eye in a mirror and slug yourself in the face as hard as you could, if it turned out that was how it was. “If you’re lonely, give somebody else a try. If you don’t like them, drop them. They’d probably expect it.”

How the hell did he know about…no, he didn’t, never mind. He was right, it only had to be for a day, but…you’d never initiated any of those. “Whatever.” Maybe you only were considering it because you were two and a half down on dark stout.

>Alright then. To hell with it. Time to test the waters, just in case… (Who to hit on? There were grey uniforms and black and blue both, a few brown…)
>No, you weren’t about to admit defeat like that. He’d come around, and you’d force the matter. If it wasn’t worth fighting for, was it worth it anyways? Though you’d have to try and sway him somehow, surely… (How?)
>Everybody could just screw off. You weren’t here to fish for dates. Draw that line in the sand. You were fine. For now. It definitely didn’t hurt, or at least, you wouldn’t admit it. Even the guy you were waiting for, you didn’t need that way, you’d decided.
>Other?

>>5362375
>Everybody could just screw off. You weren’t here to fish for dates. Draw that line in the sand. You were fine. For now. It definitely didn’t hurt, or at least, you wouldn’t admit it. Even the guy you were waiting for, you didn’t need that way, you’d decided.

>>5362375
>No, you weren’t about to admit defeat like that. He’d come around, and you’d force the matter. If it wasn’t worth fighting for, was it worth it anyways? Though you’d have to try and sway him somehow, surely… (How?)
Are there people around that know Edelschwert? Maybe any Netillians that got invited? Maybe we can ask them about him to get more of a gameplan. Otherwise, she can become pen-pals with him? Regularly writing and getting to know him, and sharing experiences and what she is learning and how she is doing at the academy. Maybe even meet up during breaks? It gets boring out on the field of battle when you're not fighting, I'm sure he'd appreciate the extra letters and friendship, especially if it's with a woman he might find attractive.

>>5362375
>Other?
How about you just chill out? You left the letter and either he'll be here or he won't. Until then there's no need to preen yourself like some sorta hen or break glass with your bare hands or even drink yourself into a stupor. You're at a fun place, with fun pals of yours. Let those worries go and dance, play some gambling games with the boys, or something. It's your favorite idiot's special day and you shouldn't let what may or may not be a misfortune piss you off enough to keep you from having a good time! Assuming having a good time doesn't involve getting too drunk.

>>5362375
>You going to pine over one guy your whole life that doesn’t even think the same way? Doesn’t sound like you.
Lol. Lmao, even.

>>5362375
>Alright then. To hell with it. Time to test the waters, just in case… (Who to hit on? There were grey uniforms and black and blue both, a few brown…)
Hmm, can't think of any names in particular but maybe someone with a von? If there are any here, there are plenty of guys Anya could be into among Richter's peers, if she got to know them better.
If she doesn't have any luck on that front how about seeking out a certain cyclops? Kill two birds with one stone haha.

>>5362450
Couldn't we both still try to get with Edelschwert somehow and also look around locally? Until we actually get involved with someone that is.

>>5362375
>>Everybody could just screw off. You weren’t here to fish for dates. Draw that line in the sand. You were fine. For now. It definitely didn’t hurt, or at least, you wouldn’t admit it. Even the guy you were waiting for, you didn’t need that way, you’d decided.

>>5362375
>Everybody could just screw off. You weren’t here to fish for dates. Draw that line in the sand. You were fine. For now. It definitely didn’t hurt, or at least, you wouldn’t admit it. Even the guy you were waiting for, you didn’t need that way, you’d decided.

At least until we see if he comes by. No use pining if it was never meant to be but the hope doesn't have to die yet. I'd agree to writing him and seeing what the fuck happened.

>>5362410
>>5362569
>>5362597
No dates for you. You're single and picky as hell, and you'll stay that way if you want. Unlike your sister.

>>5362421
Look around for anybody who might know him. Think about correspondence.

>>5362450
Prowl about for somebody of...noble, bearing.

>>5362424
Lose at Vier-Sechs and get liquor shots drunk out of your bellybutton.

Writing.

“Screw off,” you muttered darkly, “I’m not here t’ fish for dates. Leave me alone. Not waiting for any dates, either.”

That was the line you wanted to draw. So people would stop reminding you. Were you still waiting? Yes, and you’d head to the spot you’d arranged, at the bridge over the river. You hadn’t lost faith yet. Keeping your mind on it was just pissing you off, though. He’d either be there, or he wouldn’t. Until then…you’d been invited to enjoy yourself. May as well try.

There weren’t any Netillian uniforms around- nobody who’d know any better where he was than you did. Hell, you’d have been the last to see him, when you went back to Netilland after being enrolling at the Academy. Moping turned to plotting- even if you were rejected, you didn’t want that to be the end. Maybe you could write letters back and forth? You’d never done that with anybody, except very seldomly with Alina, but maybe?

That just put your mind back on him. You ought to test the waters, you thought to yourself- not trying to catch anybody, not to hit on anybody, but just to…see what there was. Besides, you were supposed to be at an after-party of sorts. Everybody here knew Richter- and you were his Retinue, which meant you were as close as could be. Maybe closer than even his wife. Where the hell had she been when he’d been at war, after all. If you loved somebody, the least you could do was stand by them when…never mind.

You left the bar, carrying a half empty glass with you, and poked about, looked amongst the officers, mostly because they tended to be the nicer ones to look at. As the only one with a pair of tits here, you could be choosy if you wanted. The eye drew to somebody you recognized- but didn’t know.

“Hey, you,” you said to the man with dark gold locks to his shoulders, along with a weathered, bandaged man who must have been his brother. “You’re that guy who kissed my hand back at Richter’s house.”

“She doesn’t remember your name, brother,” the older one glanced across the table, “You’re losing your touch early. Is this some poor girl you dropped a bill on?”

“Nonsense,” the younger, prettier one scoffed, “Do you know this woman, brother? She is Anya Nowicki. Don’t you remember me, Lady Nowicki?”

Lady Nowicki. You could only stand that from some people, but this guy was lucky. “Errr…”

“Karel Van Halm,” the older one saved you, “I’m Oskar Van Halm. I got knocked out of Richter’s platoon before Sundersschirm.” He pointed to the medal on your chest, “You know how she got that, little brother?”

“The Von Rotehofs told me,” Karel said, a frown crossing his face, “…Judge Above, will you not stand for a wounded girl to sit?”

“Don’t care,” you sat on the table edge. “Hey, hand smoocher. Where do y’know Fairy Boy from, eh?”

“Fairy boy?”

“She’s talking to one right now.” That got a laugh out of you, though you had to bite it back. It was a familiar sort of sibling pummeling, and you liked doing it yourself when you could.

“Not talking to a baked boy at least,” Karel said, though he looked to you when he said it. “I know Richter from the Academy. He wasn’t much a merit student. Antisocial, not a high scorer on exams. He could think for himself, though. In the final exercise, as we graduated into officers, his was the sole platoon to not embarrass itself on his side. He might have snatched victory, if he were only a more creative thinker,” he put a hand on his chest, pridefully, “I beat him. Though my service record is admittedly far more mundane than his. If I were matched with him again, I probably wouldn’t do so well, if what everybody else says about him is true.” He returned your question to you. “You weren’t around at Academy. When did he come to know you?”

“When he went to Sosaldt,” you said, “It’s a long story. His uncle adopted me, and we sort of…drifted together, I guess. I was visiting my sister and I’s hometown when he led a Republic raid before Todesfelsen got knocked over. Caught me. Decided I’d join up with him, and when we came back here, he had me made his Retinue. It’s a decent paycheck.”

“It’s not about the money though, is it,” Oskar said knowingly.

A shake of your head, small and slight. “Nah. He’s…I dunno. My cousin? My little bro? Something.” You looked back at Karel. “So do you just go around kissing hands, or what’s with that.”

Karel was confused, then amused. “Did I steal my lady’s first kiss?”

“No,” you said, and decided to share because you had emptied two glasses before the one you held. “When I was living in Lark, my home town, and my sister was real little.” After your mom died, a year before Alina was abducted and your life was changed forever. Your breasts were growing out. That had made some boys interested. “One of the boys around town said he’d give me a mark if I kissed him on the mouth. I was poor. So I did it.” A single union mark could buy a lot, for you. It meant a bit of a break from pickpocketing and trash picking.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Karel bowed his head.

“Maybe a kiss would make it better,” his brother teased him. He was more relaxed. Less formal, but his fancier pants brother deferred. Uncommon for the blue bloods, you’d seen and heard, who shunned rougher natures. Which is why Grumpus acted so strict around you. “Hey, Anya. You grew up in Sosaldt?” You nodded. “You lived a while there, then? Why wouldn’t your parents take you out?”

“They died.” You said flatly, hesitating to reveal the truth of your mother.

“When you were how old?”

“I dunno. When my sister was six.” You knew how old Alina was. You’d cared to count the days and check the months, unlike your mother had for either of you. You were old enough to do so. To care, to remember.

“How old are you?” Oskar pressed more. He was trying to piece together a story. So you told him.

“I dunno.” You didn’t know your birthday, either, but you knew Alina’s- March fifteenth. She was nineteen now.

“You’re a retinue,” Karel pointed out, “You have to have a date of birth to put on your papers for that. What did you put?”

>March Fifteenth. 1908. Sharing your birthday with your sister made celebrating it easier. It made you, according to one government, twenty five years old.
>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.
>Birthdays weren’t a big deal to you growing up. So you’d taken the suggestion from the hogs to put it on a Langenachtfest day. December 21st. It was near the end of the year, which you figured with a birth around 1910 made you twenty two.
>Other?

As you thought about your answer, a tap came on your shoulder. “Hey, fluffy,” Hans raised a hand in greeting, “We need a Blackjack dealer. You wanna do it? Make some marks?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s the catch.”

“There’s no catch,” he said innocently, then looked sideways. “Well. Look, if anybody loses against you, you take their bet.”

“I don’t have much money.”

“Yeah, but see, if they win, they get to drink a shot off your stomach.”

“…” You could try some card sharp tricks and frisk a bunch of dumb men…or you could just ask the question the drinks in you asked. Which was, who cares? Just do it. Live a little.

>You’d clean them out. Say you’d do it. (Cheat)
>What was gambling if you didn’t stand a chance to lose anything? You’d deal. (Don’t Cheat)
>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.
>Other?

>>5362868
>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.

>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.

I'd just cheat...but in case they're doing the same, I don't wanna risk it.
Besides, these idiots need to get used to Anya as a proper soldier and peer, before they get anywhere near her abs.

>>5362880
+1

>>5362868
June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.
>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.

>>5362868
>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.

>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.

>For once in a lifetime, Anya shows any interest in romance
>People immediately shut it down for her
wtf?

>>5362880
+1

Speaking of birthdays, what's Richter's?

>>5362868
>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.
>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.

>>5362912
Because it's funny.
>spends so much time not caring or disregarding feelings and mushy shit
>can't get any so she becomes a femcel

>>5362868
>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.
>What was gambling if you didn’t stand a chance to lose anything? You’d deal. (Don’t Cheat)

>>5362880
I'll support this
>>5362912
For me at least I want to see if Mag actually does show up, or if he doesn't then hear his excuse. If he's gay for Yuliana then we dump his ass.

>>5362868
>>June Sixteenth. 1909. June Sixteenth was the day you were rescued by Hell in 1923. You never wanted to forget it. It would make you almost twenty four.
>Tell the guys to drink their shots out of each other’s arses. The only drinks getting on you would be on your lips.

>>5362880
>>5362884
>>5362900
>>5362907
>>5362912
>>5362941
>>5363052
>>5363082
If you like this guy Hell so much why don't you marry him.

>>5363009
The dissent.

Writing.

>>5362934
>Speaking of birthdays, what's Richter's?
That's a similar vague point in time that hasn't been defined, but it is a concrete date. It'll need to be decided eventually- in the way Richter would define- by its adjacency to an important historical event.

“If you want to drink shots out of anything,” you sneered at the radioman, “Drink it out of each other’s arses.” The temptation was to scam them out of their money for being stupid, but you didn’t have a plan for what might happen if they were cheating too. That wasn’t something you could prepare ahead for, so the risk wasn’t that much less than if you didn’t cheat at all. Besides, if anybody here wanted to get anywhere near your belly button, there was a strict time requirement to actually know you before you’d consider anything like that.

The ones who you would let slurp a drink off of you probably wouldn’t be playing anyways.

Hans threw up his hand. “Alright then, don’t complain later when you want to go to the jewelry store.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, then looked back at the two better men. “What was I talking about?”

“Your birthday,” Karel prompted you, looking a bit glummer. Hmph.

“June Sixteenth, 1909,” you said, “That’s what I put for the retinue info. It’s not my real birthday. It’s the day Heller Von Tracht, Hell Git, found me. So it may as well be my birthday.” You never wanted to forget the day, the hour, that the man had stumbled into your life and ripped away what had once imprisoned you.

“Twenty three, almost twenty four,” Oskar said to himself, “You don’t look that old, to be honest, but that was the same of the bride today, wasn’t it? Looks the same as her sister even though she just passed eighteen herself, and she hasn’t changed in…want to say four years. D’you know Maddalyn Von Blum at all? You’re the groom’s retinue, and all. You must’ve met.”

“She doesn’t like me,” you said. The feeling would have been mutual if it was just disregard, but damn, that runt really hated you. To the point that it just wasn’t worth the trouble to get near her. She wasn’t the sort of person you could set straight with a solid punch under the sternum when all else failed. “That’s all there’s to say.”

“It’s because you’re a woman who’s close, I bet,” Oskar said, putting his hands together on the table in front of him, “I’ve heard how close you and Von Tracht are. Some people just don’t got faith in themselves. You aren’t tied down either, from what I hear.”

“Nah.”

“So you owe Von Tracht a debt you said, right?” Oskar looked to his younger brother, “How about taking a load off of his shoulders?”

“Don’t be rude to the lady,” Karel crossed his arms, “There’s no need to rope her into our plot to frustrate our elders.”

“If you owe Richter a favor,” you leaned over slyly, catlike, “I could use one. Get me a drink?”

“Aren’t you forward,” Karel loosened, his golden locks bobbing. “I can’t refuse such an earnest request. What do you like?”

“Beer.”

“Please,” Karel matched your slyness of gaze, “There are other ways to drink. What other drinks do you like?”

You shrugged. “Soda?”

“Fruit?”

“Sure, I like those.”

“Alright then. A Lapizlazulli Sunrise, then.”

That made Oskar laugh for some reason, because you’d never heard of that. “You’ve spent too long at home,” he said mockingly to his younger brother, “Do you expect this hole in the ground to have Vitelian sparkling wine, especially these days? Peach puree? Even blue colorant?”

“I’ll find a way,” Karel turned his lip down and stood, as though challenged to a duel, “Wait here.”

You did, finishing your stout, as you and Oskar talked about what you had been doing in Sosaldt. He had lost his tank shortly before you had found yours. Soon enough, Karel returned, holding a tall, long stemmed glass between his fingers, and with a bow, he presented it to you.

“Lady Nowicki.”

“Uh,” you took it, “Thanks. What, did they have all that stuff?”

“No. But I have my secrets.”

“Do you,” you said as you swirled the drink. “Sparkling wine and peaches?”

“A little salt, or else it wouldn’t be like that Vitelian coastal city. I confess, my brother’s right about the Vitelian wine. I could only find Delsan Sparkling.”

You couldn’t have told the difference anyways, and you sipped at it. Fruity. Light. Bubbly. “It’s good,” you said, trying to be softer about this. It was a nice thing he’d done, though you were skeptical of the man. “Thanks.”

Karel smirked at his brother and stuck his chest out. “And you would have let the lady go wanting. Maybe you have been living out in the country too long, Silver Lance.”

The time was coming around for when you planned to meet Magnus- you excused yourself, and refused any escort. Even though you were feeling those three stouts and that wine cocktail pretty damn well. It felt warm, and your head swam a little every so often when you thought too much about what was coming. At least you weren’t so upset anymore. You’d need it…if he didn’t show.

A pair of Blumsburgh constables stopped you on your way, noticed you were intoxicated, but they deferred to your uniform and medal when you told them to piss off. If you got into trouble, you had a pair of derringers tucked in your waistband, a knife in your boot, that last ditch razor tucked in the underwear. Though you’d never needed that.

The bridge loomed up before you thought you’d be there. It was a smallish stone one, not very wide, enough for two lanes of traffic, and footpaths on either side, iron lamps lighting up the thing. It led out of the city, to a town on the other side, but no traffic was passing through. It left you alone, as you wanted to be. Until he got here.

You checked the time under the lamplight. Tried not to be discouraged. Late again…

Ten minutes passed, and you saw somebody approach from the north. A shadow at first, but you could distinguish them from a distance soon enough. He insisted on wearing that sash. It was a family thing.

You said nothing as he approached, passed you, turned about. You stared at one another.

“…You’re late,” you said bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said. He had a somewhat sad look. It was…prettier than usual. He was prettier than usual. What was that warmth in your cheeks? Get down from there. “I had to settle more affairs than I planned.”

“You missed the wedding,” you swayed on your feet, but caught yourself, forced steel into your legs.

“I wouldn’t have made time for that, with what had to happen. Again, I apologize. I wanted it settled, and my way clear. So you wouldn’t have come for nothing.”

Maybe being a little drunk was a bad idea. You didn’t want to be mad at him.

“So…” you said, putting your arm down by your side, “I…”

“I know you aren’t as deft with certain words,” Magnus interrupted you, “I know why you wanted to meet me here, but I don’t want to make you struggle to get them out. I have a path I want to follow, but you do matter to me. What you feel is important to me. But I have my duties, to many people. I know you disagree with that. We can settle that later.” He looked out over the river. “I don’t have time to bicker or argue. I want you to do what you’re best at. Don’t try to put it into words. Just do it. I’ll decide what to do once I know what your feelings are.”

>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.
>Sock him one. Serves him right, for being late, for staying, everything.
>Stand still. You didn’t want anything if it wasn’t something he’d act on. You could be close, but no need to be closer.
>Other?

The picture that was meant to go with this will have to wait, I'm already late enough as is.

>>5363393
>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.
Shoot the shot, my girl.
Getting ghosted is one thing, but at least you know he liked you enough to show up.
No matter what happens now, you've won.

>>5363393
>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.

>I’ll decide what to do once I know what **your** feelings are.”

I thought he was a person of lordly caliber...

>>5363432
There are two types of Men in this world.
Idiots and Von Neubaums.
Anya's just gonna have to learn how to deal.

>>5363393
>Stand still. You didn’t want anything if it wasn’t something he’d act on. You could be close, but no need to be closer.

I liked her chemistry with van Helm better. Plus he doesn't have anything at home, IIRC.

>>5363393
>>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.
I think Anya just went from having too few love interests to too many. Maybe Magnus and van Halm can duel for her affection. But Magnus is more invested so it feels wrong to blow him off for a guy she had one conversation with.

>>5363393
>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.
Really appreciate Magnus here, he knows what's up.

>>5363492
I liked her chemistry with van Halm too, but maybe we just haven't seen enough of Anya and Magnus together yet. But the way I see it, it's a miracle she feels this way about anyone, so "too many" options is just fine by me.

>>5363393
>Stand still. You didn’t want anything if it wasn’t something he’d act on. You could be close, but no need to be closer.

>>5363393
>Sock him to get him to bend, then kiss.

>>5363393
>He was a head higher than you. Too high. Pull that braid of his so you could get those lips where you wanted them.

File: tcqscene210.png (2.26 MB, 1248x1400)

2.26 MB PNG

>>5363397
>>5363432
>>5363457
>>5363539
>>5364002
Take what you want.

>>5363457
>>5363539
Leave it all be.

>>5363680
The fakeout.

Writing. Sort of funny to me how Karel Van Halm has a bit of support despite being in only one scene, but I'm not complaining.

Here's the standoff. In the night, on the bridge. Anya left her coat with the boys because it's a warm night. It's totally not because I wanted to draw her ass.

He had come here, you thought. He hadn’t just left. Why hesitate? You swallowed, stared intensely into those blue, concerned eyes. Everything you could think to say anyways was ruse.

“Absolute shit for brains,” you muttered with a bite of your lip as you strode forward, “What the hell is wrong with you, that I have to tell you..!”

With the one good arm you had, you snatched for Magnus’s long braid of hair and tugged him down. Inconsiderate, tall man, his face was too high up, and you dragged him roughly to your level. What you wanted wasn’t something you had much practice with, but you let instinct carry you as you pushed your lips into his, held his head against yours, tugged on his lower lip. Kept him there until your hold on his hair relaxed, and you brushed your nose against his. You must have been bright red from the heat in your face, but you didn’t give a shit, as you glared right into his eyes.

He still looked like he did before, though. A flash of fear that made it through your determination- did you…fuck up? No. You kept your hold on him.

“I wish I could say this made it easier,” Magnus said quietly.

“No…” your grip tightened again, “Don’t you dare.”

“Anya,” Magnus’s hand came up and stroked your hair, your cheek, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I cannot reject you, after all of this. But I have so much more to do before this can…continue.”

Relief. All the color in your face felt like it drained out into your feet. Good thing you had fortified yourself, or else you might have embarrassed yourself. Fainted like an idiot wuss girl.

“You ain’t leavin’ just yet,” you didn’t let go of his hair, “Not yet. We have to get a drink first. At least.”

“Anya…” Magnus put his hand on yours, “You’ve already been drinking. I could taste it.”

“Oh yeah?” You pulled him down again. God, it felt even better the second time. Couldn’t he grope you, or something? For how we went all out in battle, you wanted all that reservation to come out. It had its place, like when you danced, but you wanted to rip it down now. “Come on. There’s a tavern full’a guys who want t’ see you again. T’ meetcha.”

“Anya,” Magnus said again, an apology already in his voice, “I don’t want to have to leave you like this, but I can’t stay here for long. I only ask you be patient. Let me go for only a little while. I’ll come back for you, I promise. We both have things we have to do.” Yeah. He had something he needed to do. You. He managed to push his hand into yours, though, and you let his braid go as his fingers stroked up the middle of your wrist, into your palm, then up your fingers. It made your spine tingle. “I know how strong you are,” he said as you felt your eyes go moony, “You’ll be alright. I won’t go risking anything needlessly, either. Have faith in this knight. Even if I might be late.”

>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.
>Don’t let him go. Not yet. Hold that hand, even if you have to break it.
>Other?

This is the last otome game update for now, honeymoon is next.

>>5364064
>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.

>>5364064
>Don’t let him go. Not yet. Hold that hand, even if you have to break it.

If this means Magnus is coming over to the Archduchy eventually I won't be complaining, though what he has left to do sounds slightly concerning.

>>5364064
>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.

>>5364064
>Don’t let him go. Not yet. Hold that hand, even if you have to break it.

>>5364064
>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.

>>5364064
>Other
An explanation. Only after he's told us what's so important it has him running off already will we let him go.

>>5364064
>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.
Being Anya is suffering. Anyacoin crashes, Hildatoken rises.

>>5364064
>>Let him go. Even if you couldn’t watch him walk away.

>>5364069
>>5364083
>>5364087
>>5364203
>>5364217
Let him go. He'll be back. He said he'd be.

>>5364070
>>5364084
Too many people have left and never come back. You can't let that happen. Not yet.

>>5364196
His business is your business, isn't it?

Writing.

Your hand was tight with his. If you let go, some stupid, childish voice suggested, he’d never come back. He had to leave, though- and you trusted him enough to let your fingers slip away from his.

“Thank you,” Magnus said, as he straightened his back again, “for understanding. Going on when the past is half done…it isn’t something I can do. It might take some time, but it won’t come clawing for me this way. Or for you.”

“Wait,” you said, stepping forward into him, stumbling back, then shaking your head. You’d expected him to head off right away, but he hadn’t. “Why. What’s so damn important that needs to be taken care of? You owe it to me t’ say.”

Magnus hooked his thumb in his pocket, turned a little, not enough to go. “My home, my men. Friends and family. Yuliana. Palatenhugel is safe enough, and though Netilland and Ellowie’s wars are cooling, the conflicts beyond are not quite ready to cease. Some people won’t have a place in what’s to come. Me included, maybe. So I need to help where I can, settle what will happen, move people and things. Once it’s all done, I’ll come to see you again. Things will be different. I don’t know how much so yet. But if I leave it all now, I’ll have left myself behind. I wouldn’t dare call myself a knight any longer. Do you not prefer a knight?”

You paused. Stared. “I do.”

Magnus nodded. “I know.”

“At least,” you added, “Can you…write? So you don’t just vanish? If you send it to Richter’s dad, it should reach me. I’m staying at his place while I go to the academy near there.”

“Of course.” He almost turned, but glanced back. “Oh. I should say…you look good.”

“Huh?” You looked yourself over. “’Course I do.”

“I meant with your uniform on properly,” Magnus elaborated, “I don’t know why your stomach isn’t out, but you don’t need to show much to look lovely.”

“I. Uh.” If only you hadn’t left your coat back at the tavern, damn it. “It’s cold, that’s why.”

“Hmm…” Magnus gazed at you longer, and you felt a need to brush your hair from your eyes. “Maybe you’d be partial to going to a cold climate…goodbye, Anya. I’ll try not to be late next time.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

You watched him turn and walk, but had to turn around yourself before he went too far. Watching him go was making you feel weak. It struck you where life hadn’t hardened you, where you couldn’t place armor. It felt so much like watching the Iron Hogs leave for war that one time, before you could join them.

You were stronger now than ever before. You’d wait however long it took.

-----

April 12th, 1933

It had been two days since your wedding to Maddalyn- and you hadn’t planned to stay long. A flight had already been prepared, and your things were packed. A pair of Maddalyn’s guardsmen would be with you on the trip, but you could leave them behind at will. Ideally, they would only be around to carry luggage and be assistance of last resort. After all, they couldn’t be around for all the things you intended to do. Not that you anticipated any risk in Paelli.

Somebody found you at the airfield, though, as you were waiting for the crews to finish their checks on the twin-engined leisure craft, a shining passenger plane marked well with Archduchy and Von Blum symbols.

“Von Tracht. Lieutenant.” A cold and stern voice of a woman, who you looked up to from your seat as she approached, a familiar cadence of the clicking of high heels. There was no mistaking who it was, and you stood upright reflexively.

Her black hair had gotten longer over time, and she wore it loose, going past her shoulders, sunglasses resting on her nose. A red wool jacket was worn lightly off her shoulders and a gold bangle and necklace rang off her neck and wrist, the lone splashes of color next to a black vest and trousers.

Right, the IO was in the Blumlands- of course she would have heard of this. You hadn’t exactly been timely with informing her- since you thought you were off.

“Er,” you stammered as you looked up at the Major, “Hello?”

“Off to your marital holiday, I take it,” she said. She held a small attaché case in her hand. “Paelli. To the Reich first.”

“Yes,” you said defensively, “There’s no problem, yes?”

“No,” the Major said, “You will not be expected to perform any duties there, or meet anyone. Much as some might prefer otherwise. Though it would be a good idea to be observant. The Reich is, after all, a popular monster in the closet.”

“So the Intelligence Office doesn’t consider the Reich a threat..?” you asked in a quiet tone that the Major didn’t bother to copy. To be fair, the two of you were suddenly alone.

“The Grossreich is over the mountains, straining to be held together, and has greater concerns. In the short term, no, the Reich is better as an imagined threat than a real one. There is plenty tumult to be concerned with on the east side, in Sosalia. The IO only has so many assets.” She set the case on the bench you’d been sitting at, and she opened it. “That is not to say the Reich does not consider Strossvald worth ignoring easy opportunities. So. To ensure that you are not a defenseless pup to be taken into custody by any interested in the Reich, or the chance of Revolutionaries skulking in Paelli. A take-down pistol, easy reassembled from three parts that can be distributed over your person and hidden easily. A suppressor for said pistol, if needed. Pervitin, in case of a need for extended operations…”

Maddalyn and you had made love again the other night, after a break in between the wedding night and then. Extended operations were something you were having difficulty with, even if Maddalyn did not shame you for it, it was still not a point of pride. She still seemed uncomfortable, resistant, in that way her body was even if she didn't speak of it, and it made you feel ever so little like you were forcing yourself into her...

The Major hadn’t stopped listing the inventory. “Ten meters of silk cord. Invisible ink. Edible paper. A miniature file and pry bar, lock picks. A micro-torch. Tranquilizer solution. A set of cleaning supplies for blood and fluids. Condensed rations and water purification tablets.”

“It feels like my mother’s packed me lunch,” you said.

The Major changed subject, but did not acknowledge the smartass remark. “You’ve not considered swimwear, I assume.”

“Maybe.”

“You would not be able to purchase much worth looking at here,” the Major said, pointing to the mountains, “The further west one goes, the less modesty is in demand. Atom suit styles are becoming popular in the Reich. Vitelian designers and further are even more daring.”

That made you think…

>Maddalyn shouldn’t be forced into anything exposing. She probably wouldn’t like it. Besides, her pale skin didn’t need to be scorched wearing something besides what was conservative.
>If atom suits were popular, and you were going west, surely Maddalyn couldn’t object to doing as westerners do?
>Even more daring than an atom suit? You could hardly even speculate. That had to be your preference.
>Other?

“Before you leave,” the Major said, closing the attaché case with a soft click, and putting her hands on her hips. “There is nothing I need to be informed of or inquired after…yes?”

You hadn’t told anybody of your meeting with the Kaiser. As far as most knew, your stopover in the Reich was out of curiosity. Which to be fair, was not a lie, or even controversial.

>?

>>5364330
>Even more daring than an atom suit? You could hardly even speculate. That had to be your preference.
I'm finna do it.
I'm finna push Richter's luck.
After being given the character trait of "quick shot", I feel the boy needs something to lighten his mood.

>Don't say exactly what Richter was up to but ask if there were any insights she'd potentially like gleamed from higher management over there. Anything specific she'd like looked into assuming Richter had access to high command....hypothetically of course.
I feel like keeping secrets from the secret service Isn't the best idea in this case, so we might as well play this as Richter taking some...initiative or some such.

>>5364330
>>?
We should tell her about our plan to meet the Kaiser, same with our father in law. It probably wont be a secret for long.

>If atom suits were popular, and you were going west, surely Maddalyn couldn’t object to doing as westerners do?

>>5364328
>you don’t need to show much to look lovely.
PATROLLED

>>5364330
>Maddalyn shouldn’t be forced into anything exposing. She probably wouldn’t like it. Besides, her pale skin didn’t need to be scorched wearing something besides what was conservative.
The Judge made her pale and pale she shall stay.

>>5364330
>If atom suits were popular, and you were going west, surely Maddalyn couldn’t object to doing as westerners do?

>?
Even if the IO only has so many assets, there has to be a few eyes pointed toward the Kaiser, even if its just the most surface level of observation. Pragmatically speaking then I think it would be bad to not let the Major know beforehand that a meeting is going to happen. It would not be good for her to figure this out from someone that isn't us.

>>5364330
>>Maddalyn shouldn’t be forced into anything exposing. She probably wouldn’t like it. Besides, her pale skin didn’t need to be scorched wearing something besides what was conservative.
Atom Suits probably don't come in childrens sizes anyway.
>?
Considering Richter's (at that time, percieved) introduction to the IO was upon turning in an identical invitation to the Kaiser's court to the one he's currently carrying, the Major probably has some reasonable suspicion at our "innocent" stopover in the Reich.
Honestly, I think we'd be safer going into this by letting her know and taking her guidance as opposed to waltzing into the presence of the Kaiser and making some wrong move by acting out at our own initiative and getting executed as a spy.
The consequences of telling her "Yeah, we won a ticket to tea with Kaiser Alexander for saving this foreign war hero, but some very sussy guy who may or may not be pretending to be dead stole it, then gave it back later for no reason and now we're cashing it in as a pre-vacation bonus" at the last minute are not going to be pretty, but I fear that our entire ass, dick and balls will be pummelled for an eternity for withholding that if we don't tell and somehow she finds out after the fact.

Henrik, excuse me. The poor guy spends so much time in his ancestor's shadow I forget he's there sometimes.

>>5364330
>>Maddalyn shouldn’t be forced into anything exposing. She probably wouldn’t like it. Besides, her pale skin didn’t need to be scorched wearing something besides what was conservative.

>?
The Kaiser has extended me an invitation for a short audience in Zeissenberg, yes. Personally I'm interested to see the man behind the rumours of being the second coming of Alexander.