Both you and Cesare had to look up and blink at that.

“Well,” Cesare coughed, “I suppose it isn’t necessarily like that…”

“Hey!” Gracchio had appeared then and interrupted it all, providing an unintended and welcome diversion. “Should have told the guys you were all coming up here, you know. Anyways, I just saw a mosshead for the first time, and let me tell you, those hips on them aren’t a rumor…”

It was a different time then- when you didn’t want to view Futurism as coming about any way besides as a glorious triumph, a thing that would be recorded as nothing but happy times cheered on by all but villains. Yet now, as you lay in your cot in a cold hole in the ground dug by Imperials, you wondered if your collective naïveté had blinded the lot of you. Most of the Young Futurists from those days were dead now, and those you consorted with these days tended to be of noble born blood.

Had you found out a truth that would only be discovered through tragedy? Had you grown? If so, then why did you wish for those days to return? At the very least, you wanted to go back to that café again when this was all over, with whomever was left…

Besides letters to Leo, Cesare, and your wife to be, the world had shrunk to your company and platoon. Your men were hardly the only men to receive a hiding that day, as the Reich had proven a more difficult opponent than expected by everybody, but it had strung their pride the most. A quick solution was offered and accepted- they would distract themselves from the need to mope and sulk by readying themselves where they clearly weren’t before. There was no more complaints or derisive glances for your efforts to drill them- you worked with united purpose now. What drove them apart once, they had to realize, could not any longer if they were to watch the backs of one another, to support each other to be more than they could be alone.

This training continued through limited operations. The broad front attack had failed, despite taking ground, and the lack of artillery meant that the job had to be taken up by the tanks. Yet the task was more demanding than the machines could accommodate for despite your best efforts in maintenance. After a few days of grueling short-term supporting operations, assignments were often on a pair or individual basis at best as the tanks were intolerant of abuse and cold both, and grew exhausted all the quicker when the two were inflicted upon them together. So, despite the need, you found yourselves oddly idle.

In terms of training and not action, though- for a couple of days after the initial operation, the lot of you did naught in your free time but spar. The clack of sticks brought the occasional spectator, but your attentions were focused on each other. Nobody was left out- the drivers learned as well as the commanders, and they were matched without care to courtesy or level of talent, for the Reich would be just as pitiless for a misfortune they could seize upon.

Your superior officer, Captain Chiara Di Scurostrada, naturally came by to observe, leaning on the wall as the fighting pairs circled one another.

“What are you looking at?” Di Nero, your partner now, asked as he held his training piece in a reverse grip, hunched slightly as you were.

“The Capitano has come to visit,” you said, “I expect she wants to discuss something with me.”

“Perhaps she is here to watch instead,” Di Nero said- perhaps a bit of an untoward accusation given that sparring was done stripped to the waist. The raven haired second straightened, relaxed his guard. A sign to stop a moment, not something he did near as often as any of the others. “…Tenente, I wanted you to repeat what you said to me two days past.”

“Have you forgotten?” you asked, not drawing down your stance.

Di Nero shook his head. “No. I want to hear the words as you speak them though, once more.”

You shrugged. Why not? “There is no shame in fear. Only the insane and foolish lack for fear, and I don’t see those traits amongst my platoon. The Reich may strike fear into your heart, but in time, you will strike into their hearts what they presently draw forth from you. Conquering fear is an endless struggle, but one that makes you ever stronger.”

“Yes, that,” Di Nero said, standing a little straighter. Perhaps it was that he could not feel the weight of such if he heard it in his own voice. He assumed a guard again. “Come at me, Tenente.”

You acquiesced with a lunge that Di Nero skillfully pivoted away from- but one that was easy to predict the counterblow from as you avoided overcommitting to your attack, and twisted your arm to strike away the thrust from the flank. A quick darting jab with your stick to Di Nero’s now exposed center, to which he turned away from and jumped back, putting distance between the two of you, recovering quickly before you could capitalize.

“Tenente Bonaventura,” Chiara called out as she now approached.

You stood straight again and saluted. “Have you watched enough, then?”

“Perhaps,” she said, “May I give my own brief instruction?” You motioned with your hand. “No,” Chiara specified, “I meant in proper physical demonstration.”

You looked Chiara up and down, then to Di Nero, who was much larger. Di Scurostrada was shorter than Yena even, and despite what one might think of the differences between man and woman, the size difference here was less comparing people and more of putting an ermine against a wolf. “…Are you certain?” you asked, “I cannot rightly ask Sottotenente Di Nero here to hold back with my philosophy of teaching.”

“It will be fine,” Chiara said, assuming your acceptance, should she simply state her willingness herself. “I am no fool, my eyes are not instruments to delude myself.” She unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off, walking over to hang it on a wall hook, before taking her uniform jacket off as well- a loosely fitting cloth undershirt beneath. For her small size, her muscles were well defined, though still unmistakably womanly- especially as her breasts pushed out further than one might expect. Impossible to notice such with the slightness of that undershirt.

Di Nero was already on guard as Chiara took your training stick. “I should hope you are not attempting t put me off guard by disrobing,” he said, “I have seen many a woman more exciting to the loins.”

Chiara responded by whipping her arm out, and the training aid flew forth straight and true, striking Di Nero in the center of the chest- he recoiled in surprise as it stuck for a moment and then bounced away.

“…I didn’t know you were an adept knife thrower,” you said to Chiara.

“Few do,” she said, “I learned well from Arditi craft, you could say.”

“Hmph,” Di Nero picked up the training aid and tossed it back, “But what if you had missed?”

“I did not,” Chiara said, “You failed to account for an action you didn’t see happening and presented an opening. A weak point, since you presumed my smaller size made me beneath you. Dangerous thinking for a tanker. Now you know better, I hope.”

Di Nero crouched, raising his false wooden knife. “Again, then.”

Chiara sighed, and raised her own guard. “Again.”

Di Nero then raised his hand and pointed his finger, put his thumb up. “I win.”

Chiara cocked her head. Then she threw the stick at Di Nero again, and when he flinched, she copied his motion. “Your men learn quickly, Tenente,” she said, “But remember, Di Nero. Pointing a gun does little when we are all ready for death. Next you try that ploy, remember to say bang.”

“Methinks that Di Scurostrada is a sore loser,” Di Nero said contemptuously, but Chiara ignored him.

“Tenente,” She said to you, “I want to speak with you privately.” You would have squinted at such a suggestion had she not already moved to put her coat back over herself, though not her uniform jacket- perhaps she intended to spar further rather than go through that effort only to barely make two moves. She began to walk off, presuming you would follow.

“You are a capable officer, Tenente,” Chiara said as you both moved up the tunnel, “More than I might be right now, I fear. The Kaiser’s killers can be seen as naught but enemies, and I can deal with such. However, when the troubles come from within…” She sighed, and turned around, having brought the both of you far enough for her liking.

“I don’t know of any friction with the other officers,” you said, “Are you and Marcella not over…whatever it was?”

“No,” Di Scurostrada said icily, then let the edge fall off. “No, it’s not anything like that. You see, I have been sending letters as usual, and eagerly await some more than others. One person, I know is in a position that is no longer one as dangerous as before, yet…” She grit her teeth. “Tenente, does Giovanno not still exchange mail with you?”

“Of course he does,” you said. “Leo is my best friend.”

“Then why not with I?” Chiara demanded, “It occupies my mind and spoils my focus. Tell him to cease ignoring my letters. I cannot stand it.”

Erm. This was not what you expected. “Why would he ignore your letters?” you asked, “He has spoke nothing of doing such to me.”

Chiara gave you an incredulous, annoyed look, and bit her lip. “I know not why. Yet without contact with him through that, I cannot amend…whatever it is. So tell him to make contact with me again.”

You knew well what the cause of any drama could be- despite Leo telling you he would resolve it. Yet any affections were supposed to be a secret, and you had been diligent in not intruding where you were supposed to be ignorant.

Maybe now was a time for that to stop, if your company commander might otherwise be distracted by frankly ridiculous emotional conflicts.

>Leo said he’d deal with it, so that’s what he’d do. Make sure your next letter tells him to take care of his women.
>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.
>Enough of this. There’s no way to deal with this talking through a veil. Reveal what you know- and what you think. (Write In)
>Other?
-----
First Thread- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5687489/
Second Thread- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5771752/
Announcements and miscellaneous crap are on my twitter @scheissfunker

>>5810252
>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.
Women. Can't live with em... that's it, you just can't live with them.

>>5810252
>Leo said he’d deal with it, so that’s what he’d do. Make sure your next letter tells him to take care of his women.
Yeah, buddy needs to at least offer some closure if he wants to wipe his hands free of this. He doesn't need to be her pen pal or anything, but leaving her out in the cold can only be a bad move, for herself and us more than anything.
Although.
>Other (Try to ask what's going on from her perspective. We know Leo's side of the story but getting the details from her might help clarify why all this continues to be an issue. We her friend, male or otherwise she should be able to confide in us.)

>>5810252
>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.
>"However, consider- Leo is giving you the cold shoulder, that's an answer in itself"

Glad to have you back Tanq. Just finished recapping PCQ, including my first reading of the Silver Lances arc. Fucking incredible character writing. Seeing Maddalyn's skeletons/human experiments stack up in her closet makes me deeply regret supporting her waifu candidacy. It's so fucking bad when you read each thread back-to-back. Richter Von Tracht- dog of the state, dog of Von Blum.. Not!Roland II when?

>>5810252
>>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.

>>5810252
>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.

>>5810252
>Tell Chiara that Leo was his own man- you can’t tell him what to do. Whatever was between them, you can’t get involved. It’s not your business.

>>5810252
>Other?
‘Chiara you should realise the lack of messages from Leo is the message itself’

>>5810252
Supporting >>5810279

>>5810367
Supporting this. We did recommend to Leo to talk it out whatever it is and he did eventually sit down with them and somewhat resolve it. I suspect Chiara is just frustrated she lost her hot Arditi hunk.

File: Spoiler Image (4.86 MB, 1404x2000)

4.86 MB PNG

>>5810258
>>5810367
>>5810587
>>5810588
>>5810736
>>5810996
A man walks the path he chooses.

>>5810279
>>5810916
Time to sentence the man.

>>5810815
The subtext in notext.

Updating.

>>5810367
On the bright side, there are perks. I've already posted this everywhere but I don't know how many people check the threads and the threads only.
This is not the Roland 2, or whatever people decide to call the variant stolen by a runt and iterated upon.

>>5811110
Maddalyn is great. The unethical experiments only make her hotter.

>>5811110
Danke, I read threads and threads exclusively

>>5811110
Wait, there's more than these threads?
Sorry for being uncultured, but I just got into PCQ from the last thread.

>>5811228
There's the Tanq's twitter.
Nothing extra goes on there besides thread announments and art then usually find's its way here anyway.

>>5811235
Alright, will check it our when I got the time. Thanks man.

>>5811110
>"Noooo don't ask questions just think about the sex Richter
I'm on to you Maddy

“Capitano,” you said measuredly, though Chiara already seemed to know how much she would dislike your answer, “Leo, Cesare and I, we all came from where we were to here because we would not be told what to do, or even what was wise by the standard of many. I can’t tell him what to do. Whatever is between the two of you, it is not my business to intrude upon.”

The short officer’s cheeks darkened with fury, and her brow creased, her frown curled, but she closed her eyes and contained herself. “…Fine, Tenente. I understand that there are…matters that he may keep to himself, apart even from you.”

How much did she suspect otherwise though, you wondered.

“If I may speculate,” you added, “I would consider the possibility that Leo’s lack of messages to you is one in and of itself.”

“What?” Chara near exploded, “Why in the darkest hell would that-“ she shut her eyes tight again and bit her lip. “Perhaps. But I do not know why such a message would be one he wants to give me.”

You neither, then. A bizarre dance, this was.

“Come along,” Chiara said suddenly, heading back the way you both came, “I have not had a sparring partner since Leo left, and I trust you more than I might others when I am exerted.”

“What,” you asked, “Is Marcella not suited? You’d be at a serious disadvantage in a spar with most others…” You couldn’t imagine her proving any obstacle to Leo, of course, that sort of spar sounded more a farce than anything.

Di Scurostrada scoffed as she tore her coat off her shoulders and bundled it under an arm, sweeping her hair back from her face. “I would get nothing more from my driver than using her as a sandbag, and combat while at disadvantage is something I am well used to, and better off not avoiding given our enemy. If the Kaiser deploys a legion of women, I would not aim to be merely their equals.”

When you arrived in the improvised sparring space once more, Chiara tossed her coat up where her uniform jacket still hung, and cared little when it fell to the floor instead of neatly hanging from the hook, as she was already fetching a training baton.

“On guard, Tenente,” she said with a low edge, and she immediately attacked you.

Chiara was an utterly unfamiliar sparring partner- and holding back against her turned out to be a mistake, as you apparently became extremely predictable when using Leo’s techniques while also restraining yourself. She fought you like a mad dog- and when you called for a break, both of you were soaked with sweat, and you had to wonder how much anger you were having to soak up here…

-----

Back up you went to your tanks, eager for the winter air’s chill once more after Chiara had worn herself ragged. The tanks required constant maintenance in the present climate, even with shelters being made to try and prevent them from getting showered with snow, the drivers were practically always busy. Even so, Luigi apparently was feeling overly diligent, and saw you as you approached.

“Oi, boss,” he said when you got close, himself sitting on a folding stool with a spanner in his hand he was juggling. “They have a sauna set up here and you didn’t tell me?”

“Clearly you wouldn’t want one with the firepit in here buried in snow,” you scowled, and looked around. From the other side of your tank, you heard somebody messing around with the parts. A peek over the side. “Oh, hello, Marcella.”

“Heya,” she said back, looking up and smiling with a wink and a wave, “Just bored.”

“Don’t give Luigi an excuse to be lazy,” you said, “He’ll just waste his spare energy complaining.”

“You’re a miser, boss,” Luigi shot back as he got up and stood beside you, “I have to save up just to pay the interest on the kinds of loans your sheep-humping arse gives out. You’d fit in well with the people just north of your home, I’m sure.”

“Anyways,” you helped Marcella to her feet, “You can’t just be bored. I know you’re not here to enjoy my driver’s company.”

“Haw, hell no,” Marcella grinned, “Know he likes mine, eh, heavy eyes? Actually, Bonetto, I wanted to ask you somethin’,” her smile became a thin line across her face. “’Bout Chi-Di. She’s been actin’ like a huge bitch lately, won’t say why.”

“Leo hasn’t been sending back letters to her,” you said, thinking of no reason that had to be secret, “It’s agitating her. Especially since I can’t really help her. Leo does what he wants, I won’t force otherwise.”

File: scene_24_Marcella.jpg (253 KB, 914x1000)

253 KB JPG

“Hahhhmmm..?” the smile smeared right back onto the lady driver’s face, a rather untoward smugness. “Wonder why. Well, if she’s been actin’ t’ him like to me, she’s askin’ for anybody to put in earplugs. Hear she went to spar some. How’d she do?”

“She sparred with me,” you answered.

“You give her a few lumps on ‘er head then?”

“No,” you said testily, “She is my superior officer, I don’t need her thinking affected by me rattling her brain with an idiotic accident.”

Marcella crossed her arms and made a pout at you. “Jus’ sayin’, probably more likely ta knock some sense back into ‘er skull.” She waved away the thought with a single rise and fall of a hand. “Anyhow. Bonetto, can you do me a favor? Bleach Head won’t stop treatin’ me like a cramp, so if y’ could send some mail for me..?” She reached down her jumpsuit and pulled out a soggy looking envelope.

You stared at her. “Write another letter first.”

Marcella pouted at you and made a put-upon face. “Tell the higher ups ta put pockets on these things if y’ don’t like it. What I was sayin’ was, y’ girlfriend’s stayin’ at Chiara’s place, and I wanted ta talk to ‘er more. Was hittin’ it off real well last she visited, but…” She rolled her eyes and hunched over, squeezing her arms tightly together. “Ain’t too many gals ta talk to out here, Bonetto. Know what I’m sayin’? Jus’, no peekin’, hm?”

You shrugged. All mail was opened anyways, and you and Yena didn’t keep secrets from one another. Not that you were the sort to peep in mail anyways. Though it did seem a bit odd- after all, Yena was very good friends with Chiara, and while the driver and your wife to be knew each other, you wouldn’t have presumed a deep friendship…

>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.
>A simple request. Why not? Nobody could reasonably get mad at you for letting women talk amongst themselves…
>Other?

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.
Sorry Marcella, the Tenente washes his hands of this affair.

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.
We're washing our hands of this.

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.
These women are truly a headache. But Marcella is a baddie, sorry Chiara.

>>5811603
>If she wants you to send her such a letter (one that will probably be shared by Yena anyway) then let her tell us to our face what it is about. None of this running around in the dark.

>no Luigi drawing
A tragedy.

>>5811661
Some tenth anniversary this turned out to be
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Year_of_Luigi

>>5811603
>If Chiara found out you were ferrying mail for her rival that she clearly didn’t want sent, you’d surely enrage her. Not a smart or sensitive move. No need to involve yourself at all, that included handling any sweat soaked letters.

>>5811603
>>A simple request. Why not? Nobody could reasonably get mad at you for letting women talk amongst themselves…

>>5811603
>A simple request. Why not? Nobody could reasonably get mad at you for letting women talk amongst themselves…

>>5811603
>A simple request. Why not? Nobody could reasonably get mad at you for letting women talk amongst themselves…

>>5811606
>>5811611
>>5811614
>>5811616
>>5811623
>>5811830
No dice, boobs girl.

>>5811661
I'm gonna need to vet this letter.

>>5811993
>>5812135
Just don't get me shot in the head.

Updating.

>>5811661
>no Luigi drawing
I intended it to be a both drivers image, but, I ran out of time.
There will be a Loogey.

>>5811228
I wish you luck, considering how much material there is.

>>5812264
Plus you.

“I can’t,” you said, “Whatever is between you and the Captain, I’m not getting involved. That includes going behind her back to do something she doesn’t want you to. Whatever the reason is, I know that she wouldn’t want me to cross her doing that. Sorry, but I have not only the feelings of a friend to consider, but those of a superior officer. My hands are tied.” Even if you weren’t doing your best to wash your hands of any of…this.

Where Chiara had seethed in fury at your refusal, however, Marcella merely shrugged, though she half closed her eyes in annoyance. “It was worth a shot,” she said, “Well, I gotta go, then. Got a lotta work to get done.” She waved, wiggling her fingers with a final wink, “See ya later, hips-man.”

“Oi,” Luigi piped up as the mechanic woman left, “Hey, hold on-“ He crossed his arms and harrumphed to himself. “Women, ‘swear. Thought I could relax a day for once. The moment you don’t got somethin’ they want…”

As much as you’d avoid going into a misogynistic tangent normally, a tired part of you was agreeing with your driver, truly a sign of troubling times.

-----

The war thought dispensed with returned, as the fight over the river crossing that was spanned by the Howl continued. The Special Weapons battalion, while mostly successful in their operations, had suffered harsh rebukes from the Reich- they were mostly unable to repeat the scale of battle that had been displayed on the New Years Assault.

The platoon that had volunteered to conquer one of the riverbanks had been the worst off- having been utterly destroyed. Besides them, most of the Battalion’s units had been reduced in at least a similar capacity to yours, as the Reich’s new anti-tank tactics had developed, and their new weapons had caught you all off guard. Yet, it could not be said that you were unable to adapt, and the small-scale operations that only involved a platoon or two were much less seriously impeded by these new weapons, though the casualties and mechanical wear were such that the operations were less and less frequent over the course of January. The officers joked darkly that they didn’t know that they had signed up to be Arditi- the biting and holding actions had often required tanks to succeed, and though the Reich had not brought up any tanks to counter you, their medium guns were particularly deadly, and more feared than the infantry-borne anti-tank rifles.

Your platoon soon emerged as the best in the unit, especially as casualties were replaced by less of the old guard and hard core. No more combat losses were suffered over seven assaults by your platoon, though the tanks wore down from the weather and rigors of battle until the last one, where you were alone in the last tank in a harrowing attack to claim a hilltop pillbox, and it broke down as the Reich counterattack and barrage begun. You and your driver were minorly wounded- and your platoon was put out of commission for the time being, shortly followed by the rest of the unit as it became apparent that the “battalion” now only had two platoons worth of tanks able to be used in battle, even if there were men ready and able. There simply wasn’t enough parts and spare tanks produced to maintain what was needed- the battle also slowed, and you heard, the commanders grew ever more impatient, and the assaults became bloodier, more persistent, and where tanks once dominated, there were the fresh students of Leo and other veterans, who were thrown into dangerous assignments where none were said to return from more than twice.

The tanks remaining were all of Reich models, captured in the past, and when they broke down, there was little choice but to cannibalize another for the parts needed. Sometimes you managed to gain them for the ever-ongoing training, but at the beginning of February, they were committed in their entirety in a massed assault launched in seeming impotent frustration, for the Howl itself. One that your unit could not join, but waited expectantly for news about regardless…

An odd outcome after an entire week of fighting- the river was still not officially gained, but the Howl was- the half on your side of the Gepte. The frontlines crossed through, within, and under the great fortification. Of course, all of the tanks were gone now- and you were to be withdrawn- where many of the formerly wounded, including Marcus Di Portaltramanto, would be waiting to rejoin at Sella Castella, where the Battalion’s tanks would also finish their extensive and long awaited refitting.

Not that you were allowed peace the whole time. The constant pounding of Reich barrages shaking the earth had been grown used to, but not the probes by Reich tunneling teams. They never broke through near to where you were- but a breach occurred close enough to the battalion headquarters once to send everybody into a state of alert and overturn the bunks in preparation to repel subterranean stormtroopers. You had heard stories through the grapevine concerning tunnelers and counter-tunneling operations. They were not to be envied. You might have preferred to join the Arditi on the surface rather than throw in with the moles.

March. The Spring approached, and from what you knew, the Reich was weakening just in time for the Gepte River to thaw and become the perfect obstacle to smother the offensive, even if pushing further into the Reich was seen as of dubious value by…anybody. However, the month meant something more to you than that.

Yena was quite pregnant. It had been just about eight months- not long now before your baby would arrive. Given the amount of time that had gone by with the Special Weapons Battalion forced to sit on their hands, you could take the opportunity to arrange for leave- to be their for the birth of your firstborn, for your wife to be- though it would ultimately conflict with the battalion’s redeployment. In your absence, Di Nero would be in charge of the platoon, and he did seem ready, but still.

The alternative, besides staying with the unit, of course, presented itself in an unexpected way. A cadre of captured Grossreich tanks had been accumulated to the north, in the Gilician front, and they needed a commander. The privilege had been extended by old Colonel Di Zucchampo to Di Scurostrada- who had offered it then, to you. It would be quite the career move, a promotion to Captain to command that small unit, but it would also mean leaving behind all of your friends for unfamiliar grounds- in a front that was rumored, though never officially spoken as such, to be extremely brutal and dangerous…

>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.
>Keeping affairs straight in the unit was how you’d keep everybody important to you alive and well. Leaving them in their time of need was improper. You’d stay with the unit for their glorious return, when it soon came…
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.
>Any other things?

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.
A M B I T I O N
M
B
I
T
I
O
N

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.
Onwards and upwards

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.
We should be there for the birth of our child

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812681
Wasn’t our boy supposed to take Yena up a mountain and marry her before she had the kid or else her and the kid are damned?

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.
A quest about tanks.

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.
Being responsible is neat.

>>5812720
No, it's very normal for the marriage to occur after the child is born. The whole bastard thing is if the dude never marries her and leaves.

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812777
>Being responsible is neat.
It's one child vs our entire unit. Going with them is also responsible.

>>5812809
Oh ok, so you voted to go with the unit then?

>>5812812
>Implying taking command of an armored unit in a vital sector is somehow irresponsible

>>5812816
That's not what he said though. He was talking about going with our unit, which the Galicia vote says in the text we are leaving behind for the sake of our ambition.

>>5812681
>>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812681
>>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5812681
>Gilicia called, and you would answer. Like Leo, perhaps, even if you had to leave others behind, there was a chance to go higher here you couldn’t pass up.
Fuck hoes, acquire glory

>>5812682
>>5812696
>>5812749
>>5812776
>>5812896
>>5812979
>>5813437
Ambition calls you forth- to where the war is all the worse.


>>5812705
>>5812711
>>5812777
>>5812804
>>5812963
>>5813155
>>5813229
>>5813275
The future awaits in the hearth, and you would be there to guide it.

Honestly more divisive than I thought it would be. I'm going to assume people's Halloween is going to be plenty busy- not that I've been timely with these updates anyways...

>>5813562
Waifu Commander Quest is going strong

>>5812681
>Take some leave to go back and be there for Yena. You were quite sick of war, and could do with some time away…even if your time in the war itself would be envied by most.

>>5813562
If I've learnt anything from all the threads, waifu-related votes bring out the most fervent voting.

>>5814453
I hope Tanq makes us roll for if the mosshead and/or the shamrock shake baby makes it through childbirth.
captcha was TND, it's on my side.

>>5815141
Wierd kink anon but ok

Hey guys, not dead, but been knocked off my rhythm. I'll be sure to update tonight.

>>5815956
Nice

>>5815956
>Soon

Well I guess with us going home we could possibly see out the remainder of the
war then.

Did I say last night? I meant tonight. For real this time.
Unless an illustration of pregnant Yena is extremely necessary to the coming update for some reason, as I am cutting that for time's sake.

>>5816977
Super necessary

>>5816977
>Unless an illustration of pregnant Yena is extremely necessary
You already know what people are gonna say.

The amount of time you had to make a choice was great- but the opportunity to think about it thoroughly did not make this any easier whatsoever.

What you would have done before all that had happened would have been an obvious choice. Entering service as a mere soldato and rising up to a commissioned capitano in only a few years was an incredible pace of advancement for somebody not highborn. That it would let you see Cesare again, hopefully, was icing on such a cake. That ambitious route was the one the most optimistic Bonetto of the past would have placed as a fanciful tale of wish fulfillment, near too good to be true.

However.

The young man who had gone straight from the Azure Halls to the Royal Army had not anticipated Yena. That girl who seemed to fancy you for reasons you couldn’t fathom, who then clung to you, who had been so fragile and closed off, and then, you had saved her…and you couldn’t let each other go after. You couldn’t have predicted it even when you started dating her, thinking it would only be until she was healthier. Only, when she became better, that was when…

Now she was going to bear your child. How had that come about? It hadn’t been planned for at all. Anticipated as an outcome, yes, but in the moment? Whomever they would be, they were conceived out of lust for one another, out of an intense moment of passion, with little thought for anything else. You didn’t regret any of it, but admittedly, things wouldn’t be so difficult to decide on if Yena had gotten pregnant after your romp in the forest, rather than on the kitchen floor in an apron.

Oh, was that woman irresistible, though. Patient as well. Not one complaint had ever been made towards your absence. She might have kooky mountainfolk beliefs and her head didn’t quite wrap around Futurism, but her charm points were not things that had to be buried from under poison mud, bombs and bones.

Yet even still.

If you wanted to secure not only your own future but that of your wife and child, of the country, the Saints be willing, then wasn’t this huge opportunity something that you couldn’t pass up? That you could excuse missing the birth of your firstborn for?

Both paths to the future, but only one was something you couldn’t get later.

So that was how it would be. The Bonetto of the past might curse you for this decision, but then, the Bonetto of the past didn’t go home to marry Elena, and he had regretted that terribly. You’d put in a note that you’d like to be strongly considered for the position being offered, but ultimately, you would be taking a nice extended leave to be with your fiancée. A trip down to Di Scurostrada’s lands, accompanied by your driver, who was included in leave. He said he had friends and relatives who lived in that province…but you somehow doubted that.

All the friends in the unit were given fond farewells, and you passed on command to Di Nero- time would tell if the position would stick. At least you were around just in time to notice that Di Portaltramanto did not eye you with as much spite as he once did. Whether or not you’d return to this platoon, you hoped that what you’d taught them would ensure you’d meet again in the future, even if they didn’t find the glory they sought.

So, with that, Sella Castella vanished away into the distance- but the wistful sight was not where your eyes were. The Forlorn still crept about, no matter if High Command downplayed their presence, and in the shadows, you still saw the black coats, and you kept a watch out even if there were already soldiers doing that both on and in front of the train. Luigi was in no mood for that, as he tried to chat you up, but you didn’t feel conversational whatsoever until you had left the Auratus entirely. It would be a poor punctuation to your life to live as you had only to be felled by an ambush far from the frontlines.

Yet just when you thought you could relax, as the train stopped at a station for water, you looked to the hills and saw a blackened, ruined village, small in the distance yet disturbingly familiar.

“What happened over there?” you asked one of the workers on the train, who suddenly became nervous.

“Oh that,” he said distantly, “An accident. Just a little carelessness, and it all went up a month ago. A real tragedy.”

Yet you had your doubts- that village looked like it was made the same way places like your town was. Yes, a fire was a serious danger, but they were spaced rather far apart for stray sparks to go around. News from other fronts was rare, but what of further inland? You supposed not much specific came out from there, too. Some complaints you’d heard were of letters from home having sections cut away. Easy to be distracted from near the Reich’s soldiers, but no help to your restlessness now.

There was an unwelcome alien quality to the lands now, even as you came close to your destination.

“Almost there,” you said to Luigi.

“Oh,” he said snidely, “You remembered that I exist. Hey, boss. Has it been long enough that I need to introduce myself again?”

“Spare me,” you held up a hand. “You said you were from here. I have to say, it doesn’t look like how you described it.”

“That’s because this is near the Di Scurostrada’s private estate,” Luigi said with scorn, “The South Valley’s the place most of us are. It’s less green and pretty there, where all the muck gets shoved to get washed downstream.”

“Not very scuro, still.” Rather bright meadows all about actually.

File: scene_25_Luigi.jpg (254 KB, 860x900)

254 KB JPG

“There’s a story behind that name,” Luigi said, gesturing out the window. “In the Second Empire or something, there was a valley that had a First Empire era road between two important places, don’t remember what they were. One end north, the other south towards the sea. All sorts of money going up and down this road, and a lot of people lookin’ to take advantage. So when a bunch of landless knights came around and cleaned out the bandits, the Emperor gave them that valley and called them Di Scurostrada. Used to be a lot of forest too. All gone now.”

“A nice story,” you said, “But Dark Path is still a rather ominous title, isn’t it?”

Luigi chuckled at that in a thick, fake sardonic tone. “That’s what the other thing I’ve heard mentions. Not as much somethin’ to take pride in, the other story. You know what landless knights became a lot of the time? Bandits. So there’s as much a chance that the first Di Scurostradas were just bandits who got paid off to not be highwaymen no more. You know how nobles are. Not much better than bandits if they think they can get away with it.”

“I don’t think our Captain would appreciate that sentiment,” you joked.

Luigi shrugged and joked back with a raised finger. “A noble and a woman. Mama always told me, never trust a woman unless she’s your mum, or one your mum picked out. Never steered me wrong, that bit of advice.”

…Mother would never have picked a mountain girl for you…

The train pulled into a quaint, rural station that was little more than a stop for water, coal, and passengers, with a little town around it to sustain and be sustained by it. Not where you expected the villa of Di Scurostrada to be, but perhaps some nobility preferred to be away from the hustle and bustle. These surroundings were assuredly what Yena would be more used to, at least. A smaller and more relaxed community, and a link to an important, known figure. A far cry from how she described the Holy City in this time of strife.

“Well,” Luigi picked up his haversack and raised a hand, “Guess I’ll see you in…a month? Two? Until your spawn pops out and you feel the need to show him to me? May the Saints guide you, boss. Preferably one of the reasonable ones.” He began to walk off, but you grabbed his ear. “Oi, what’s all of that?” He whined. “We’re on leave, find somebody else to kick into mush.”

“You’re meeting Yena,” you said flatly, “What are you in such a hurry to leave for? This leave is so long, and Scurostrada so narrow a territory. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you were in a hurry to head off to the pleasure palaces of Marenabocca.”

Luigi scoffed and spat. “Paellans. They’re what happens when an entire race of people has an absent father. I’d still be tempted if it wasn’t either their finest or their garbage with no in between. Just what I’ve heard. I have too little money and too much common sense to head over for a visit.”

“Surely they regret not drawing you in,” you said, “It won’t take long. Stop whining and come meet my fiancée, I want her to know who’s taking care of my tank. Let’s a go.”

“Nah, let’s a no, your piece and I will both be happier without eye contact.” Luigi complained, but you kept your grip on him firm until he walked with instead of against you.

-----

Yena was found sooner than you expected. What you anticipated was that she’d be at the villa, but green heads stuck out like sore thumbs in this part of the country, so you naturally picked one out as soon as you left the station.

She was dozing off in the afternoon soon on a wooden bench, a handbag by her side and one hand wrapping a shawl tightly around her- her face looked down and a hat was keeping the sun off of her, but the braid on one side of her head and the roundness of her belly left little room for doubt as you walked over to her and put a hand on her cheek.

“Mm,” she breathed as you moved your fingers around her chin and tilted her up as Yena’s eyes fluttered open. “…Palmiro…” She accepted your kiss as soon as you moved forth to make it.

“I’m back for a while, Yena,” you said to her, “Have I kept you waiting long?”

“Very long,” Yena said as she put her arms around your shoulders. “But I would wait however long I had to. I would come here to wait just in case you came early.”

“Then I’m sure you’re hungry,” you said, helping her to her feet, “Yena, this is my-“ Luigi was nowhere to be seen. “Damn it all, he scampered off. I was going to introduce you to Luigi Lucanto, my driver. We’ve been through a lot…apparently he’s had enough of me for now.”

Yena pushed herself close to you. “That’s alright. I’ll take his share of you if he doesn’t want it.”

You seated your hands around her hips. “Let’s not be too hasty, there’s people around.”

Yena purred into your ear in New Nauk, “I wish you would.”

You smiled at her and nibbled on her ear- though you had to make something clear. “Don’t speak in that language, love.”

“Ah…” Yena looked down, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want to show me back to the Villa then?”

“To eat?” Yena raised an eyebrow. “I would rather do that at the café here, if you like.”

“Of course,” you said, “But wouldn’t the food at the estate be better?”

“Maybe, but,” Yena looked around at the other people on the street, “It makes me feel bad to eat better than these kind folk just because I’m staying at a place of importance, when you send me money so that I don’t depend entirely upon charity…they appreciate that I spend upon them, too. The people here know I am of the east, not the west. Those of Donom Dei were not so inclined, and I want to thank them for that…”

“Alright then,” you said, clasping her hand in yours, “Show me the way, then.”

When you got to the place, a little cottage with a dining area closed in to the point that three people couldn’t stand astride its width, you were surprised by how empty it seemed. Were these not the usual hours?

“People have to make their money go further,” Yena knew what you were thinking, “Coffee is so expensive now.” Indeed it was, you noted with a look to the price scribed on a chalkboard panel. Three times the price you remembered in Lapizlazulli, and you remembered that being particularly overpriced. “People forget there’s more than coffee to get here, though…”

You both got a cup of a kind of pasta soup traditional here, Conchiglie en Brodo, and sat next to each other at one of the optimistically arranged crowded tables- yourself moving your chair close to your fiancée so you could touch her stomach- trying to feel the life within.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Yena said to you quietly as you touched her skin beneath her loose jumper- her stomach was hard, swollen feeling already, but you knew it would grow larger still. “They’re asleep now, but they’re so full of energy, Palmiro, like their father.”

You rubbed her belly more. “Have you been feeling alright?” You asked, “I know how rough this is on the body…”

“Chiara’s attendants care for me when needed,” Yena said, “And now that you’re here, I want for nothing.”

The hot cups came, and you dug out your wallet to pay, but the owner and server, a plump hillman with dark hair and a thin mustachio, shook his head and waved his hands. “No, no, a soldier of the Royal Army need not pay here!”

“I would insist,” you said, and pressed proper payment into the man’s hands. “My Yena has told me that you have need of it, and I would rather share.”

The owner thanked you profusely, but had to be gifted the money several times before he actually took it. That he had such faith and gratitude for the army…what a different sort of story these people must have believed compared to the truth. “They like the military around here, then?” you asked Yena.

“Many volunteers came from here,” Yena said, “And when I told them about you, they accepted me as near kin. Everything we hear is of the victories up north. The war has been going very well lately, hasn’t it? I’ve been hoping it might even end while you were here with me…” She saw the grave look on your face, and paused in sipping at her soup. “…Palmiro? When do you think it will be over? Will we win soon?”

You thought about that. “I can’t say too much,” you said carefully, “But the Reich’s picked where they want to fight, and they’re fighting hard. The Emreans launched a big offensive up north, and I hear they’re smashing the Reich up, but I don’t know. We thought all the fight went out of them months ago, when we started advancing through the Gepte lands. Now we have all of that, and everybody thinks that means we’ve won…only, we’re still fighting. Even though we’re all tired, we’re still fighting.”

Yena looked downcast, and put her hand upon yours. “You don’t have to be tired now,” she said softly, “If there’s anything you need to let out, I will listen. A strong and brave man ought to have a wife who is as much.”

Earnest- yet you hesitated still. “The time will come,” you told her, “For now, let’s enjoy what is new…”

-----

The leave away from the front was a happy time. With the news distorted as it was, you couldn’t concern yourself properly with the war even if you wished to, and it engendered a strangely pure bliss. Even if your heart had twinges of regret, knowing that you woke up in a soft bed in loving arms, whilst your fellows knew cold cots at best and wet, muddy trenches at worst. Or graves.

Yena, having been separated from you for so long, had understandable priorities which you shared. Even after the rigorous coitus of the first night, her libido had absolutely exploded since you last met. Whenever you had a private moment she was touchy-feely and amorous, and she was always warm and affectionate. Oddly, she had some sort of aversion to using the bed for bedroom purposes- the first you got handsy with her in it, she laughed and told you with a lilt in her voice, “Palmiro, the bed is for sleeping in!” Usually, that meant that sex took place…anywhere else, practically, but often it was either against the wall, outdoors or at the private baths, the two of you sneaking into the glades to be amongst the gardens and trees, where you had to puzzle out new and exciting ways to make love with her new figure.

The aversion to antics in bed did not extend to everything. Near every morning, when you woke up, it was to the feeling of Yena’s lips, her tongue, the heat and wet of her mouth wrapped about your manhood. After she was done, she would ask if you wanted any breakfast- every time. Always concerning food, though, not a proper reciprocation. And you were supposed to be the one taking care of her…

Your fair fiancée was not merely sick with love and hungry for you, of course, but the sheer frequency of amorous romps was a far cry from the cold coffee and weary watches, the quaking of shells, the deaf feeling about of tank fighting. Back on the front, you dreamt near every night of fighting in your tank. You scarcely found yourself in command of a machine gun one, yet your dreams still put you in them, or a cannon one, or some strange dream amalgamation of both where you might have one or the other, killing faceless Reich troops. Rolling over bodies that popped. Getting out and seeing Reich and Vitelian uniforms so spattered in mud and blood they were indistinguishable- them fighting so close you may as well have been killing both.

Yet if you did not kill them all, they invariably would attack you, for some reason.

The dreams continued, but so did the waking paradise, for what it was. March passed into April. April into May. Yena’s belly got bigger, so big she had to lean on you to walk any distance. Until finally, one evening, as you walked in the garden, she finally stumbled.

It was time.

The eighteenth of May. You waited anxiously, the sun still not peeking its head up, the Di Scurostrada’s own doctors having disappeared into a room with Yena in tow hours earlier. You had been reassured that they were very good at their trade, and moreover, very kind- the Di Scurostradas won the hearts of the people by enabling them to go about the lands and give pro bono treatments of all sorts. There were no better in Vitelia to let midwife Yena, you’d been told confidently by a manservant. For whatever reason, you were similarly assured that it was better for you to remain outside to not distract the professionals.

Even still. You were used to saving Yena by your own hand. Helping her yourself. Easing her pains and healing her mind and spirit. Placing her in somebody else’s hands for this felt wrong, but what could you do? You knew about as much about delivering babies as you did about Zhantaoan pottery making.

Finally, the door opened again. A nursing attendant called to you. “Signore Bonaventura? We are ready for you.”

You took a deep breath. What was it like to be a father? You’d find out now, you supposed…

…Though a uniformed man of the Royal Army had appeared down the hall and was now waiting as well. Ominously. Like he was only standing away out of courtesy for this special moment in your life, and as soon as it would end, he would demand you for something that would snatch you away from this pleasantness of the past months.

>Roll three sets of 1d100 for bab traits. No I won’t say which is which. Also, if any of the rolls are 100, then roll another set of three.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>5817082

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>5817082

Rolled 80 (1d100)

Let's see what a critfail does.

>…Mother would never have picked a mountain girl for you…
At least somebody in this quest has common sense.

Into the room, you followed the doctor, away from the presently unwelcome portent of misfortune. Yena lay on a bed, sheets being changed out, and she smiled weakly at you as you came in and leaned over her. She was sweat-slicked, exhausted, and shallow of breath, but she looked as happy as you’d ever seen.

“…Palmiro,” she wheezed, “She’s ours…our daughter…”

You reached out to take her from Yena’s hands- she was big, heavy.

“Very healthy,” one of the doctors said approvingly, “As is the mother.”

Your daughter…she had your blonde hair, your eyes as she opened them to look at you and wailed in protest at not being at her mother’s breast. You didn’t know what to say, or think, despite this moment having been anticipated so long…

“Her name?” an attendant asked, “And her Saint, her honored name as well.”

Honored Name being what most referred to as a middle name, as it was traditionally one that belonged to a person respected by the parent who named the child. As for her Saint, well…

Yena and you had discussed this- though you paused a bit to make sure you remembered it all well enough. Traditionally, the names given to firstborns were the same as one of their ancestors. Technically speaking you were named after your grandfather, so it would be appropriate to name your daughter after your mother or Yena’s mother, though hardly restricted to such. After all, something so restrictive and traditional wouldn’t be very future, while giving her a brand-new name would be.

As for saints, you had to remind yourself, admittedly, of all there were, but you were decided now.

>Name your firstborn daughter. It should be something Vitelian, or at least appropriate. (Read- Pasta Pizza, not Bratwurst Sauerkraut)

Also- Give her an Honored Name:
>Would it not do to call her Antonia, after Anton Ange, father of Utopianism?
>Your grandmother would do well. Giorgia- always best to remember her roots.
>Yena’s grandmother shared her own name…maybe calling your daughter after her mother would please all involved.
>Something else?

Additionally- Her Birth Saint:
>Saint Grigori, the patron of Stoicism
>Saint Emelida, the patron of Heroism
>Saint Morginn, the First Saint
>Some other domain?

>>5817101
>she had your blonde hair
Just going to assume this is the high roll.
>Would it not do to call her Antonia, after Anton Ange, father of Utopianism?
Something something Sigmund Vang.
>Some other domain?
A natural or legalistic saint maybe, something to do with either the mountains or what Yena's family does.

>>5817101
>Vittoria
>Would it not do to call her Antonia, after Anton Ange, father of Utopianism?
>Saint Emelida, the patron of Heroism

>>5817109
+1

>>5817109
I'll go with this

>>5817101
>Beatrice
>Yena’s grandmother shared her own name…maybe calling your daughter after her mother would please all involved.
>Saint Grigori, the patron of Stoicism

>>5817101
>Alba
>Yena’s grandmother shared her own name…maybe calling your daughter after her mother would please all involved.
>Saint Morginn, the First Saint

>>5817101
>she had your blonde hair
Just going to assume this is the low roll.

>Vittoria
>Would it not do to call her Antonia, after Anton Ange, father of Utopianism?
>Saint Emelida, the patron of Heroism

>>5817109
You're not going to believe this, but I came up with my vote before I've seen yours.

>>5817101
>>Vittoria
>>Would it not do to call her Antonia, after Anton Ange, father of Utopianism?
>>Saint Emelida, the patron of Heroism

>>5817101
>>5817109
I like this

>>5817101
>>5817109
+1

>>5817101
Drusilla
Lucia, after the first Kingdom of Vitelia's founder
>Some other domain?
Saint Lawrence, The Patron of Cooks

>>5817108
The saint of expedition and exploration, he who crossed the northern peaks, Saint Dans. Also he who scribed the codices to distribute abroad in early Nauk Imperial.

>>5817109
>>5817136
>>5817144
>>5817199
>>5817257
>>5817282
>>5817336
Vittoria Antonia, guarded by Emelida.

>>5817146
Beatrice Yena, guarded by Grigori

>>5817175
Alba Yena, guarded by Morginn.

>>5817520
Drusilla Lucia, guarded by...wait, that's not the Patron of the Kitchen.

Calling in an hour though I think things are solidly locked in.

>>5817737
Does Vitelia have a national patron saint?

>>5817737
>Vittoria Antonia, guarded by Emelida.
I'm already proud of our little revolutionary. Hopefully she ends up in one of the less shit factions

Called and updating.
>>5817748
>Does Vitelia have a national patron saint?
Some would say it is Augustus Superbus, the greatest ruler of the Fire Empire, though he wasn't a man who was said to have the holy fire of a proper Saint except for accounts of him made after his passage. As far as what the Vilja Domkarl and the Cathedra would say, the would instead elevate Claudius Lux, the missionary to the west and beyond, founder of the holy city of Donom Dei, which was only later made capital of the First Empire. However, such is less popular and not so well known outside of the city itself, and even in Donom Dei, most would rather venerate the First Empire rather than any previous polities.

Don’t you think that’s a little on the nose? That was what Cesare might have said about your choice of name, but if you really wanted to go overboard, you’d call her Angelina. “Vittoria Antonia,” you told the attendant, “Under the guidance of Saint Emelida.”

“Very good,” the attendant said, “We’ll be keeping the mother and child here for a couple more days to keep an eye on them, but visitation will be completely open, barring unforeseen emergency.”

“Thank you,” you said, perhaps belatedly, and Vittoria wailed a loud, piercing shriek as babies were wont to do. You placed her back in Yena’s arms, and your daughter searched for nourishment.

“…The name we decided for a daughter, right?” Yena smiled weakly as you as she wrapped her arms around Vittoria.

“Of course,” you said, curling a lock of Yena’s hair around your finger, “Good work, dear, good work…” The door opened, and everybody looked- it was the military man that had been watching you outside, earlier.

“Signore,” a doctor objected, “This is not a public place. Please, wait outside.”

“No more waiting,” the man said, a pair of small round glasses seated on his nose, a scrunched in face, his hairline peaked high and his chin recessed. A nasty looking fellow. “I am Maggiore Celere, of the Royal Vitelian Army Interior Command. Tenente Bonaventura. You are coming with me.”

You curled your lip. “It can’t wait whatsoever? You had all the time in the world to find me before, but you picked this moment to-“

“Tenente,” the army man repeated coolly, “There is no time. Be thankful that I allowed you the time I did, and that I did not send an impatient adjutant. Say your goodbyes and be along. I will explain when we are on the train.”

He closed the door, and there was silence, save for from Vittoria, who gurgled in ignorance. Yena gave you a confused, pleading look. “Palmiro…What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” you kissed her on the forehead, “I’ve not done anything to be punished for, but this is too sudden to be anything good. I don’t have much choice but to go. I’ll be back. Be well.” You rested your hand on Vittoria’s head, “For you, too, Vittoria. Be patient. Daddy will be back before you know it.”

As you’d told Yena, it couldn’t be disciplinary, and Celere reaffirmed as much as you walked with him.

“Then tell me,” you said, “What in the world demanded a Major come and find me in the dead of the dark morning, on the eve of the birth of my firstborn daughter, that couldn’t wait a single moment?”

“On the train, Tenente,” Major Celere said, his voice a cold, flinty deep. “There are reasons that the Royal Army does not speak openly of everything that occurs. Many a Halmeggian ear might be assumed to be a Vitelian one in the east.” Most would consider that paranoia, though not unjustified. Halmeggia was the neighbor of Vitelia, and an old kingdom, but still one closely aligned with the Reich. Rumor had it that volunteers from there bolstered the Reich’s armies most unnecessarily. “Your driver has been wrangled, along with some others having holiday here. Said rest and relaxation is now over.”

No less frustrated, you kept your mouth shut until on the train, and further, until it was in motion, when Celere finally relaxed his posture. “Coffee, Tenente? I think you will need it.”

You nodded sharply. “Along with some basic answers.”

“First things first, Tenente, you are to not speak so freely should we be fortunate enough to be granted a moment to breathe, but we are in the midst of a national emergency, kept as quiet as we can make it to not excite the populace. All remaining reserves are being called up. All household guards mobilized. Even marines from the Royal Navy have been summoned north to the mainland.”

“Why?” you of course demanded, “You make it sound as if we suddenly have no…”

Celere motioned to his server, who was actually a non-commissioned officer and far above being a mere waiter, yet still placed cups by both of you. “Your suspicions are what may be the worst-case scenario, but information is not yet clear. What is clear is that the assurances of the frontline command were outright falsehood for at least a week before it became impossible to deny the truth. Said truth being the collapse of our lines.”

“…What?” You were dumbfounded. That sounded utterly impossible, and you repeated such. “It may have been a few months back,” you said, “But the Auratus Front’s position was unquestionably sound. We were on the offensive; the Reich was on the back foot. What could have possibly changed?”

“The scope is outside of my ability to view, let alone to have a tenente see and judge, however, since you will have the unenviable task of trying to repair this sorry state of affairs,” Celere said, “There is some new weapon the Reich have deployed. It alongside large underground explosive mines were used in an initial attack. A kind of incendiary device, though the reports sound greatly exaggerated."

"I do not know whom besides hysterical shellshocked enlisted would describe a weapon as turning the land into a vision of fiery hell, a storm of fire, pillars of light. Ludicrous." Celere's voice was full of contempt, but tinged with doubt. "However, I would be on guard for anything that the Reich might have deployed. Their greatest trump card played against us rather than the Emreans, who push upon them fiercely to the north. I suspect they wish to defeat Vitelia then focus northwards once more.”

“Where are we going, then?” you asked.

“I remain in the interior to continue preparations,” Celere said, “That we are speaking is a kindness of fate and my own superior officer, who has a favorite teacher in the Assault School. You, on the other hand, are to take a brevet promotion and assume command of a formation I believe you were already notified about, for it was a safe distance behind the line. Perhaps not so safely distant anymore. North, in the Gilician Front.”

Not to your old unit? “The Special Weapons Battalion sounds as though it would have need of its officers in this situation.”

Celere’s eyes flashed. “The Special Weapons Battalion was involved in heavy fighting with Imperial Armor even before the current catastrophe. There has been no news of their equipment making it out of the retreat, as the first thing the Grossreich took in the shock of their offensive were the crossings on the Gepte. I know not of the battalion’s men, but the general word has been that all of the armored vehicles in the Auratus have been captured or destroyed.”

It was good that you were seated, else you might have collapsed, bent at the knees.

“Suffice it to say,” Celere mulled, “A tank commander is better off with tanks to command. This is what has been decided for you.”

-----

One time, you would have had plenty of time to prepare for the turmoil in the north. Time to get to know who was in charge, who to be friends with, what the enemy was like, the local troops and landscape…everything that would be helpful, perhaps vital.

This was not such a time. A file full of “need to know” was pushed into your hands roughly at the same stop Celere got off, and you went over it with Luigi. The information within was from before the current predicament, but even so, it was not reassuring, as it was information that you could tell was hidden from most for how poor it would have looked in the public eye.

The Auratus had volunteers, special units, treatment, as the favorite child of the Royal Vitelian Army. The Gilician Front was not fought over land that was desired, or an ancestral point of pride, but merely because both sides were there to fight, but that did not make it less a necessity to man. For the Reich, Gilicia bordered an unimportant protectorate. For Vitelia, the Reich bordered the path into the heart of Vitelia, into Lindiva and beyond, an important choke point to keep defended. So here the ugly work was carried out. The roughest conscripts, the scrapings of the barrel passed over for other duties, former convicts, the poorest and the vagrants, whoever could be swept up and given a modicum of training, which given the danger of the front, was usually poor.

The Gilician Front had represented the majority of casualties taken in the war, and much of the bloodshed appeared completely avoidable were it not for the adversarial relationship between the conscripts and the officers who drove them forth. A constant watch was kept for mutiny, and it was advised that any hint of insubordination was to be harshly punished, summarily, if need be. Captains had no need to consult anybody above them to carry out judgments for insubordination.

The Bocca di Muschio, or the Mossmouth Valley, was the place the Gilician front fought over. A mess of foothills in the mountain pass, it was frequently misty and foggy, visibility poor at the best of times, and trench lines and fortifications threaded around the hills in ringlets like spilled spaghetti, with cave and tunnel systems underneath a similar bloody maze. One hill might be utterly unoccupied, but around the edge of it could be a fortress, or an enemy assault. The rises were utterly deadly unless in heavy fog, in which case the height was no advantage, but rather, made whomever resided in the hilltop outposts and bunkers a sudden target as assaults ensued to take them.

An already extremely unfriendly place, before the last small note. A little last addition- that the front had suffered from a huge amount of instability now, as the poor morale of the troops had caused them to surrender to the Reich stormtroopers in droves, and positions were fled from rather than defended. Orders were to round up any men withdrawing without permission and send them back…but it gave no actual method or plan on how to do so.

“Honestly boss,” Luigi sighed on that last one, “I think we’s best stay outta their way. I’m not gonna get shot by one of my own people if I can help it.”

You had to agree. This command might have already turned out to be an unappealing one. Now there was little choice, unless you deserted along with the others…but you shouldn’t be too hasty.

When you were almost at the station you were to be dropped at, where the tanks were being kept, you could already here the rumbling and booming of artillery fire.

“Judge Above,” Luigi swore, “How far the hell forward are they? Are we gonna get off the train and find ourselves in a Reich station?”

Not so- but the train was immediately swarmed by civilians, pressed back by gendarmes who got off the train, and who were only scattered by a fusillade of rifle fire- not into the crowd, but they screamed and ran as though it had struck them.

“Come on,” you told Luigi, “Let’s hurry and find those tanks, at least.” In your hand you carried the badge of a temporary Captain- not that you liked it, but you carried the authority of law here, if you wished to wield it.

At least the armor company motor pool was easy to be guided to, even if there was a disturbing lack of people who knew what to call it- or anything, besides that they knew where it was. Many of the soldiers seemed to wander about purposelessly, lost, and some asked you what to do as if you were their commanding officer, but most avoided you deliberately.

Finally, you got to the tanks. All Reich model captures, as you’d been told. Five of the heavy model, with their forward cannon and three machine guns. Ten of the lighter model, little boxes with machine guns, a couple with a machine gun and a long, narrow rifle like the ones you’d seen before on the Gepte attacks, but mounted alongside the machine gun instead of carried by a man. Those were three of them, another three were armed with light cannon, and the remaining four had machine guns. All were painted in the blue-green of Vitelian armor, despite their Imperial origins.

The crews and commanders lingered- and you noted there seemed to be no separate clique of noble officers. Everybody was amongst one another. Perhaps they lingered because they didn’t want to lose these machines that had been gifted to them. They certainly couldn’t be staying in anticipation of your arrival, with how they looked at you down their noses, through slit, suspicious eyes.

“Hello,” you introduced yourself, “I am Brevet Capitano Palmiro Bonaventura. I am here to take command of this armored assault company.

A snort from one of the officers. “The Judge must be pissed at you for somethin’.”Perhaps so. “Guess that Cesare guy’s shit outta luck. Gettin’ caught up front a couple klicks out that couple days ago.”

“Think the fort’s still holdin’ out?” another officer asked.

“Not for long.”

…

You had to get things moving. To where, though…you weren’t sure, but you had to do something.

>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…
>The situation was chaotic, but not unsalvageable. You’d have to get everybody ready, and dug in, to repel the surely impending Reich attack.
>There was no point in staying here, and you knew what command would be popular. Get the tanks started up- and head south. Staying here was suicide, and a waste of man and materiel.
>Other?

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818097
>The Bocca di Muschio, or the Mossmouth Valley, was the place the Gilician front fought over
>hat the front had suffered from a huge amount of instability now, as the poor morale of the troops had caused them to surrender to the Reich stormtroopers in droves, and positions were fled from rather than defended. Orders were to round up any men withdrawing without permission and send them back…but it gave no actual method or plan on how to do so.
Son of a bitch. I should have expected the Isonzo...

>>5818101
>There was no point in staying here, and you knew what command would be popular. Get the tanks started up- and head south. Staying here was suicide, and a waste of man and materiel.
This feels like fence sitting, but attempting a break through sounds like suicide and digging in sounds like it will maintain the status quo, things getting worse for our own side.

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818101
>There was no point in staying here, and you knew what command would be popular. Get the tanks started up- and head south. Staying here was suicide, and a waste of man and materiel.

>>5818097
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818101
>There was no point in staying here, and you knew what command would be popular. Get the tanks started up- and head south. Staying here was suicide, and a waste of man and materiel.
Damn, too bad Palmiro spent time with his waifu rather than his tankfu

>>5818085
Honestly, I wonder if Chiara and the named officers managed to get out alive or not. Anyway, it seemed like we dodged a bullet at the very least.

Also, saving Cesara might either be a move that completely screw us over or make us a major war hero.

>>5818148
Well Julio of all people has to survive, so hopefully some of the Battalion survived/ are stuck as POWs.

Could totally see just Bonetto and Leo at the end of this though.

>>5818154
I won't be surprised if Julio got too cocky and ended up leading the company to a trap which caused a massive loss to the Special Battalion.

I'm also hoping Chiara survives, but without her good luck charm (i.e. us or Leo), I wouldn't be surprise if she got heavily scarred or crippled from the war.

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…
Charisma, gooooo

>>5818101
>The situation was chaotic, but not unsalvageable. You’d have to get everybody ready, and dug in, to repel the surely impending Reich attack.
I'm firmly against sending these men into an all out attack simply to save Cesare. Cesare is a smart man, cautious. I believe he will hold out long enough or spare himself and his men by giving up in time if he sees the situation in unsalvageable. Throwing these demoralised men into another pointless attack to save Cesare is cruel and uncaring, no matter how charismatic we are.

On the other hand, we can't give up on Cesare and his men completely. Or Vitelia, in this matter. If there's a chance that Cesare and the rest breakout, there must be a decently safe place for them to retreat to. Not only that, if we retreat now, Vitelia will be completely exposed to the Reichdogs. They aren't giving it their all to attack here just so that they can stop. It will be an all out offensive that can very easily kick out Vitelia out of the war and leave us at the mercy of the Reich. However bleak it may look, we can salvage the situation. We are experienced and level-headed. We can do this shit.

>>5818101
>>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818101
>Other?
Light the beacons and call for aid.

Lel we're gonna get this whole company encircled and captured

>>5818101
>Did that man say Cesare? There was no time to waste. You had to get everybody ready for an attack, to break through again…

>>5818899
Yeah I don't know why there's such an obsession with suicide charges. It's dumb.

>>5818959
Well, we are not!Italian...

>>5818959
>>5818963
There wont be a charge because our own troops will string us up lol

>>5818959
We are reenacting Isonzo

>>5818106
>>5818108
>>5818118
>>5818137
>>5818205
>>5818613
>>5818721
>>5818944
The call for heroism, driven by friendship. At least, with one person.

>>5818117
>>5818127
>>5818138
The only option is to take what's salvageable and leave- this place is already lost.

>>5818609
Prepare to repel the invasion- or at least, try.

>>5818875
You're the aid, buddy.

You know, for the romanticism of it, this is probably going to be harder than you may think. Writing.

>>5819228
Where's the Kommissarat when you need them, baka?

>>5819228
Goddammit Palmiro

It was a common name- but one that stood out to you. He had been somewhere north, you weren’t sure where, but just in case it was coincidence…

“Did you say Cesare?” you asked, “Do you know him?”

“Analyst with a bum leg? Sure do. Can’t help but hear about him talkin’ about Futurism or somesuch.” One of the crewmen said, “Heard he was gonna be attached to this unit before everything went to hell. Why, he call you up here?”

Two kilometers through Reich lines. Yet you had tanks, and the front was surely chaos for all involved, so there was a chance. You could do it, if you could band all these men and tanks together and just go. Not even to take the ground for good, but to break the siege…

“Get the engines started,” you called out, “You have fifteen minutes, I’m going to find a map, and we’ll be making preparations to attack-“

“Nah.”

What? You looked over to the offending dissent, who was staring at you as blankly as everybody else. He was a scruffy little sea man with an officer’s bicorne, but he wore a plain pullover sweater instead of a uniform. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Brevet Captain. No. Do I speak for everybody here?” A murmur of agreement. “Hear that? I bet you don’t even know anybody’s names.”

“There is little time,” you said, trying to be patient, “Proper introductions will come, but we are in no place of such comfort as to sit around and talk. Lives are on the line, and we can save them-”

“We?” Another officer said, though this one was only recognizable by his stature amongst his fellows and his willingness to speak, as he had discarded any uniform pieces whatsoever save for his trousers and boots, plainly clothed elsewhere with a fur hat on his head. Perhaps a Gilician native. “We. Hah. I don’t think you know where you are.”

“He’s new, Bruno, we can be easy,” the sweater man said, “First off, Pal. I’m Tenente Dario Corallo, and that’s Tenente Bruno Amaro. Brevet as you are, we’ve got no commissions.” The look on Bruno’s face said he was constantly tasting something like that for certain. “The third guy isn’t present, might be sleeping off the brandy. We have to make something clear, though. Here in the Mossmaw? In the Gilician Front? It was always attack, attack, attack, into whatever it might have been. We got out of that, and now, everybody’s out of it. No more charges, no more offensives. Especially not from some guy I know less about than the first to walk the earth, besides that he come up and think we’re gonna just do what he says because he’s a big shot somewhere.”

Bruno flicked a Gilician Razor out of his belt and ran his finger down the edge. “You got a problem, then we won’t, real fast.”

They were trying to scare you, thinking you were some fresh pup, your position a favor of a noble, presumably. Frankly, you’d seen scarier from the Reich, and you pointed to the tanks. “How came you by these?” You asked, “Did you buy them with coin? Did you seduce an Imperial and waddle away with them and a looser backside than before?”

“Funny man,” Bruno growled as he flipped his razor in and out, though he didn’t advance at the insult.

“We took them ourselves,” Dario shot back, “That’s why we have command of them, why we’re here instead of at the front where we can breathe in poison, get burned black by Imperial chemicals, stabbed, shot, blown up and buried. All of us took our prizes. They’re ours by right, even the shittiest of the highborn slave drivers agree.”

“Are they broken down? Unable to function?” you asked rhetorically, “What purpose does a tank that can fight have, if not to fight?”

“No fight worth fighting here no more,” Bruno said casually.

“Your comrades, your fellow Vitelians,” your voice began to raise, “They are beset upon by the Reich, and you will not use your strength to aid them? Is that not even worth consideration?”
You could tell from looking around that you were stinging their pride, as they looked around doubtfully for any others whose confidence in their self-righteous apathy was cracking. Yet the leaders were unrepentant.

“We’re not fighting Lucius’s shitty war no more,” Dario snapped, “No matter what. Go and get yourself killed if you want, but if you think you can just walk in here and make us die for a lost cause that never had nothin’ to do with us, you can blow it out your ass. You hear?”

There wasn’t any actual counterargument to the point you were trying to rally them around. They just didn’t want to fight. From what you had heard of this front, you couldn’t blame them, but that recalcitrance was petty spite from where you were standing. You needed their help, your friends, their friends perhaps too, needed their help, but this company was just too sick of the war and their commanders to do anything that might help the people they hated more than the Reich.

Nothing you could say would change that. Those who didn’t want to listen would hear naught.

>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.
>There wasn’t any point in trying to attack without them. Perhaps you could at least convince them to accept your leadership for their self-preservation though- in doing something else. (What?)
>Other?

>>5819491
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.
The time in the tank has made us weak.
We don't need those fucking things to save our boy.

>>5819491
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.

>>5819491
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.
Well, if we're going to be retarded might as well go all the way with it. Abandon our command and infiltrate like back when Bonaventura was enlisted

>>5819491
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.

Try to get more details out of them at least. Who else is stuck in the fort, how big a force? Any significant armour presence up ahead or mainly infantry/stormtroopers?

>>5819491
>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.
I really don't think we'll find any significant numbers to go on this suicide mission. Might as well take some armor with us.

>>5819491
>>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.

lmao time to die for something meaningless. What happened to that whole speech about keeping yourself alive was a greater glory?

>>5820396
We already have a daughter to pass on the legacy now.

>>5819491
>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.

>>5819491
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.

>>5820400
Yeah, but she'll be rejected by her mother for being soulless cause we aren't married to Yena.

>>5820396
You're being too pessimistic, the situation was different, but we've been in this type of situation before and we can do it again.
We'll make it back to properly marry our wife and we'll bring Cesare's cripped ass to see it done!

>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.

The leaders don’t want to, that’s fine, but the rest of the tankers might join us. Lead by example, and use Bonetto’s force of character to make things right.

>>5819491
>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.

>>5819502
>>5819535
>>5819542
>>5819546
>>5820562
End of Panzer, return to Pasta.

>>5819726
>>5820300
>>5820403
>>5820706
>>5820842
Panzer Commander Forever

Calling or rolling off in an hour.

>>5819491
>>5820905
>If these people wouldn’t listen, maybe somebody else would. Even if you had no tanks, you would still try and rescue Cesare and those with him.
I don't see much stock in taking just a handful of tanks if it means we're also lacking for a decent sized infantry screen. Better to consolidate what men we have into infantry and get across the battlefield as fluidly as we can without bringing along any big targets.
Also ask Luigi if he wants to stay behind. He's a good driver/mechanic and I don't recall him being touted as particularly proficient in hand to hand combat training, so there's no use throwing him into the trenches if he doesn't think he's fit for itm, though having him watch our back instead of one of these reprobates would be appreciated.

>>5820905
>>Fine then. They could be that way- you’ll take a tank yourself and go. Anybody who was not a coward could follow you, but no matter what, you were going.
Avanti!

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5820917
>>5821012
Still tied up huh.
Well, I'm two hours late, but I'll roll it off here. 1 for no tank, 2 for tank.

Going to love the reaction of High Command when the man they sent to stabilize the Front somewhat ends up riding in a sole tank into enemy lines to save his friend

Fine, then. If they would not be moved by words or purpose, then so be it. That would not keep you from going, though.

“There are men whose lives are worth fighting to save, whom for all the purposeless death this war has wrought, it would be worth risking life to keep the war from taking them too. If that is not enough to motivate you, then nothing will be enough. I will still go, however. When I return, I will take a tank, and anybody who has the valor to follow me. If I go alone, then let that be a black mark on whatever pride you hold.” You flashed a glance back as you turned your back. “A true knight is worthy of his armor, but no knight is made so by his metal.”

Walking away, Luigi trailed behind you, glancing back at the tank yard as you left. “Hey, boss, that was a nice speech and all, but I’m not too hot on heading in all by our lonesome, tank or not. The two of us by ourselves could crew one of the little ones, but that’s not enough to break no one out, y’know?”

You looked to the squat driver with a resigned gaze. “Luigi, you’ve been at my side since I found out what a tank was, you’ve been my partner through many battles, but if you don’t want to join me in this, you don’t have to.” He didn’t know Cesare- and if you were forced to do this alone, you didn’t want to take him down with you- even if you did need him.

Luigi scoffed at you and raised his eyebrows indignantly. “Huh? Did I say I wasn’t gonna help you? Not how this works, boss. When I was little, my mama told me, Luigi, no Lucanto’s ever taken back his word on nothin’, ever, and if you’s the first to do it, your great granddaddy will never let you sleep again. I’m an only child, so nobody’ll break that word but me, if I do it.”

“You’ve said many things,” you noted, “The only thing I’ve heard you give a promise like that on is that my taste in coffee is as good as my taste in women, and I still don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I was gettin’ to that!” Luigi said peevishly as you turned towards a trench pointing to where the headquarters, and more, vital information on the chaos of this situation would be. “When we were about to go, I got stopped by the Captain, and she goes somethin’ like, keep the Tenente safe. I say I’ve already been doin’ that, but then she says, give me your word. So that’s that. It’s not my choice no more.”

“…I’ll pay you back someday,” you said.

“Pay me back now, more like,” Luigi said pointedly, “Whatever crazy thing you’re thinking of doing, make sure I walk away from it.”

-----

The headquarters was a storm of indecision, panic, with small pockets of resigned quietness where a few continued to do the necessary work so that all the scattered pieces of what once was a command structure didn’t fly away on the winds. It was at one of these places that, being an officer, you managed to find a sympathetic ear to your plight. A raven haired bespectacled young sea woman with a fresh red bruise on one side of her face- presumably from being struck, despite being in a secretarial position. Her voice was too quiet to properly hear amongst the mess, so you helped yourself when she answered your questions with gestures to papers and locations.

The picture of the situation was less and less reassuring- regardless of how optimistically you might have already been viewing it. As was normal on the Gilician front’s foothills, the fort that Cesare and anybody with him was holed up in was less anything like a castle and more a burrow on a hill, with a bunker atop it, though this particular complex was spread over three hills forming an elbow shape in concert with another pair of forts. Its flanks had been taken if it was isolated, but there was still an approach to it from the south- this particular fort line, while intricate, was only one “line” thick, as further development had been abandoned when the fighting advanced beyond. Now, regrettably, the fortifications that would have prevented further disaster lay incomplete- and the Reich’s assault was crashing down upon the hastily assembled frontlines only a kilometer ahead.

The only reason you could think of that they hadn’t broken through already was because they had used up their burst of speed, and attrition had chewed apart the offensive force to the point where it couldn’t immediately shatter the subpar attempt at a defensive. That left a small amount of hope to any plan for a counteroffensive. Not a general one, Judge Above, no, but a small enough one to force a gap in the swirling storm of steel so that you could break out…how many people were in this fortification? It could have been a platoon, it could have been two, it could even be only a dozen people by the time you got to it.

Or it could be zero.

The maps weren’t doing any good here, so you took them. Some small solace found its way in when you realized that the chances of mines being around was nil considering how fluid the lines were, but there was plenty of things that could ruin everything. Stormtroopers, enemy tanks, Flayer vapors that you’d heard of but didn’t have the misfortune to experience, and of course, whatever the strange secret weapon was that had supposedly broken the lines here and to the east.

Nobody who was put together seemed to know what that was. Those who might have directly experienced it were so traumatized that they were either rendered dumb or incoherent. The only reliable thing you heard was that, whatever it was, it turned the sky itself red as fresh spilt blood, set aflame like lava from a furious mountain- that it felt like the air itself ate away, ever so slowly, at the flesh and mind, like a frog drying in the sun.

Maybe you’d never see it. Maybe, for how terrible it was, the Reich might not have any more. No more that it would expend against you rather than Emre…

-----
When you returned to the tank yard, a few people had cycled out, and back in. Bruno watched you with contempt from the other side, but didn’t lift a finger or say anything when you and Luigi picked out a familiar model of what the Reich called a Panzerwagen Three, one with a machine gun, and the oversized rifle mounted in the hull also. Reich-captures occurred in the Auratus as well, so you did know how to operate them, their tolerances, everything needed- though you considered them inferior to the C2. Perhaps one of the Kriegswagen-Sturm, would have been preferable, but without a full crew to operate it, you’d only be crippling any attempt you made at this rescue.

It wasn’t to be suicide- despite what some might consider an attempt like this. Yet you owed it to Cesare to try your absolute best. After every other one of your friends had lost their lives- not just because of Leo, as he might put it, but because of you. Leo was safe- Cesare very well could be the last of your old friends, and as far as you were concerned, he was still in reach.

“Hey,” a slurring voice approached- it belonged to a sea fellow who wasn’t wearing trousers, a pair of dirty trunks all he wore below the waist. His eyes were heavy and red, and he near limped. Intoxicated? “What’re you doin’ with my tank, whoever you’re s’posed t’…” He trailed off.

“Requisitioning it,” you said without concern for what the owner might think, “It is doing no good sitting here. Who are you?”

“Tenente Giulino,” the man said in a drawn out syllable smashed together, “Why’d you need my tank for?”

“To save lives.”

“Whose?”

“Good men,” you answered, “But mostly, my friend Cesare.”

“Agghhh, him, aye,” Giulino nodded exaggeratedly, “Sounds good, I’ll…I’ll be right there, just gotta…” he stumbled off, and fell over near the wall. At least somebody was giving their blessing- even if it was a man still drunk from the past day.

The engine was started up, the ammunition and fuel checked- full up on both at least. As the engine warmed up, you called out to the camp:
“Anybody who feels the smallest bit of kinship with their fellow Vitelians,” you shouted, “Any of you at all who would wish to do more than sit here and wait for Alexander to take them, then start your vehicles and follow me when I leave! The plan will come when we all are at the edge of our lines. For all the worthless attacks made in contempt of your lives and bravery, this will not rank amongst them. Those of you whom do not follow- when we return, I expect you to fall in line!”

The time to depart came, and you ordered Luigi forth. A compliment to the Reich’s engineers- a sufficient screen between you and the engine meant it was possible to properly communicate within the tank, at a shout. Though even if you wanted to kick Luigi, the inside of the tank was not constructed in a way to allow such, a cramped box you had to sit and squeeze yourself within, though for now, you could push yourself out the top hatch to observe. A steel helmet rested upon the top of your head now, rather than a bicorne. You’d have liked to have the armor you’d seen on some Arditi, but here, the steel helmets were the only protection available, whether they were more primitive earlier models that looked like they were beaten together by an amateur blacksmith, or the newest models that were neat ridged domes, the latter being what you had managed to get.

Not until you were near the lines did you gather the strength to look back to see who had followed, even if the noise assured you something did tread in your track-trails- your confidence might have faltered otherwise, and the sort of confidence you wished to exude could suffer no self-doubt…

>Roll four sets of 2d6, for eight individual d6 rolls. On a 1-2, there is no follower. On a 3-4, there is a PW-3, on a 5 there’s a PW-3S (cannon type) and a 6 is a heavy tank.

Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d6)

>>5821917

Rolled 3, 2 = 5 (2d6)

>>5821920
lmao

>>5821917

Rolled 3, 1 = 4 (2d6)

>>5821917

Rolled 6, 4 = 10 (2d6)

>>5821917

When you looked back, you could be disappointed, but you had been prepared for worse. Not by much. Three PW-3 types, all machine gun armed, and a singular KWS. The last was puzzling, but hardly unwelcome. All in all, it was a single reduce platoon. Something you could work with. A compact fist that, if driven into the right soft place, could do plenty of damage.

You stopped, and calculating that there were no Reich sharpshooters around to take advantage, decided the time was right for theater. You climbed atop the hull of your tank and stood on the roof, turning to face those who had chosen to follow. You waited, as the other commanders popped out to see what the deal was. You motioned to them to exit.

One man you did not expect to come along- and you addressed him immediately. “Did you have a change of heart, Tenente Corallo?” He had commanded the lone heavy tank- all the more important you understand why he had come.

The squat Sea Vitelian squinted at you, contempt and skepticism in equal heavy measure. “No matter what you say about us, we’re part of a group. Anybody who made the fool decision to come with you, I have to try to bring back, whether they’re in one piece or they need to be scooped up in a can. Also, if you’re going to do this to our people, I’m going to make sure you’re the first in. No more standing at a safe distance while the others do the dying.”

That made you burst out laughing. “Tenente, you’ve no idea what sort of man I am. That threat has no substance. You will all be following the trail I carve out. It is not the way of a Young Futurist to follow meekly. Nobody can arrive at the future by standing still and watching from afar. Especially not on a day like this where what is ahead is so uncertain.” Fire and fog, full of foes- it was stunning to you to think of how easy it had been to say words of similar weight when there was no threat whatsoever. Now that it was time to prove your mettle…would you have hesitated before? “If there aren’t any further concerns about my character,” you jumped down to the level of the others, “Let me get started on how we’re going to do this.”

File: scene_26_BreakIn.jpg (338 KB, 1200x857)

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Going out beyond the frontlines, there were either three or four hills to either cross or go around before you got to the besieged fort where Cesare was, depending on the route you took- the first two relatively wider and flatter compared to the harsher inclines of the next two before the fort. With the last two, crossing them on the low ground still involved clearing a saddle- there was no flat and open ground to be had here. Logically, the escape being cut off meant you’d have to break through or drive off at least one section of enemies, of what type, nobody could be certain of. The presence of the KWS and your own tank’s huge rifle meant that even enemy armor wasn’t quite insurmountable, if you wanted to just push through enough to allow an escape, but getting there was going to be the most uncertain part of this operation.

The bunkers were at least only armed with machine guns- though you couldn’t say how heavily armed the Reich’s soldiers would be, only that there wasn’t anything heavier they could have taken advantage of.

>Plan your route of advance. Trenches and bunkers are marked as grey structures. Your tanks are able to cross most trenches- or find a way over them. These aren’t the best developed obstacles.
>Being in the lower two terrain tiers means being in mist- you can’t see far, but things can’t see you well either. Being atop the hills here or near the tops means being quite visible.

File: MistPlan1.png (1.22 MB, 1204x864)

1.22 MB PNG

>>5822698
I say we try to move through the mist as long as possible until we get to that last hill. The exact approach to it I'm not sure of, but I think it's among the best places to enable a breakout, since using the mist to go around the sides of the second set of hills seems like too much of a detour.

File: 1699406995987007.jpg (335 KB, 1200x857)

335 KB JPG

>>5822698
Plan 'Fuck these machine gun bunkers in particular and avoid sneaky AT gunners in trenches at all costs'. Red strike throughs are what absolutely needs to die before we progress, anything else is to be left alone/entertained with harassing fire if disturbed

>>5822757
+1

>>5822766
+1. I don't like the idea of punching through a hill trench + bunker combo while being visible to whatever forces are on the fort

>>5822757
This. The other plan has us try to clear two trenches up a steep slope, this one only one up a gentler slope.

>>5822757
Supporting

>>5822757
+1

>>5822766
Support plan "stick to the mists"

File: Spoiler Image (5.6 MB, 1700x1800)

5.6 MB PNG

>>5822757
>>5822905
>>5823218
>>5823263
>>5823434
Plan A

>>5822766
>>5823104
>>5823454
Plan B

Updating.

Attachment unrelated Since she sure as shit doesn't look like this at this moment of the timeline- but I think "late by over a year" is a new record for me since this was supposed to be done the halloween before.

>>5823757
An unexpected but not unwelcome appearance of best Luftpanzer girl

The ideal route would be to avoid fighting for as long as possible- which meant keeping out of sight until the moment you’d be making your decisive attack. It also meant not being able to see around you, but that was the sacrifice you’d have to make- and the chances of being surprised by somebody that could destroy you were nil, if you evaded the trenchworks. The Reich’s medium guns and anti-tank rifles were still quite cumbersome, and never expected anywhere but a prepared position. No, the greatest concern would be tanks, and artillery. Anything else you hoped to either slip by or surprise in the dense fog.

The plan explained to your ad-hoc platoon, you had them line up in a close order column, yourself at the head and Corallo at the rear in his heavy tank. At the head, you had to peer over the top of your PW-3 through a rather poorly designed hatch, unsuitable for anything but escape, as the periscope was simply unsuited for keeping awareness by itself. Even though the size of the hatch cut into the roof and its lack of rim meant it practically invited a grenade to be thrown in while open.

The platoon crept forward, down the slope, into the mist. The clouds swallowed you, and one of the few indications of where you were was whether you were suddenly either going up or downhill, your map in one hand and checked constantly- because the place where you couldn’t afford to look around anymore was a trench line coming up that faced the mist. Even if the Reich’s infantry weren’t probing yet, they undoubtedly had men in that trench you had to pass by.

Around the first hill you went, and you promptly shut the hatch, expecting rifle fire to chase you- but none did. A search with the periscope- the trenches were there, though difficult to see. Was there nobody there? Or- was it possible- the Reich only expected their own tanks? Much more than the silhouette of your vehicles would be hard to see, and as far as you knew, the Reich had no reason to expect Vitelian crewed tanks here, especially with the collapse of the line. Fortuitous, if your assumption was correct. If only you had a uniform, your knowledge of the Imperial language might even have proven invaluable. Alas, it was already testing your luck to be advancing in entirely the incorrect direction.

Worse, that you weren’t immediately opposed meant that there was certainly Reich tanks here.

The turn came- and you pushed the signal lights to turn left, thanking the Reich for not interrupting this most vital movement. It was already hard enough to grope around in the limited visibility, but if you had to do it while being shot at, there was a good chance you’d get hopelessly lost in the mist, and end up on the wrong hill, or in the midst of enemies. That was going to happen soon anyways, if the rise and fall of the northward journey didn’t tell you that you were about to reach the critical point of the advance. If the Reich didn’t know your intent yet, they would very soon.

The hill- it was a rather steep slope for a tank, and you were aiming to cross right over its saddle.

“Luigi,” you said loudly in the tank over the banging of the engine behind you, its noise only somewhat dampened by a thin sheet of metal and wood panel, “Can we make it up this?” It was steeper than you’d ever tried to move over. Not a problem if you were on foot, but you weren’t sure if you had the power to make it up this way.

“Don’t know,” Luigi replied, “The big guy might be too heavy, but I’ll give it a try.” He waved over behind him, “If I mess up, though, we’ll crash right into anybody following. We’ll need to do this careful.”

“Do you think the others can do it?” you asked.

Luigi glanced at you. “Honest, boss? I’m not sure on this, which means, hell no.”

“Damn.” You looked back at the map, then around the mist. “There’s a gentler slope that way,” you looked with the periscope. The map lacking proper height was rather a problem, but you supposed that command had thought it wouldn’t be needed, and you were lucky to have this at all. “A saddle between these other hills, but it will put us in front of a bunker.”

“Don’t think we have much choice, boss,” Luigi said gravely. “Doesn’t seem like that one guy wants to let you out of his sight, and splitting everybody up in this weather..?”

“Fine then,” you said, “We’ll have to try the crossing. If anybody doesn’t make it, they’ll have to go to the right. Wait here.”

Quickly darting about from tank to tank, you spread the backup plan about- but you hoped against hope you wouldn’t need it, because the most expedient way forth was to avoid as much fighting as possible until you were actually at the fort Cesare was holding out in…

“This is it, Luigi,” you said as you vaulted back over on top of your tank and down the hatch, “Forward!”

>Roll 3 sets of 5d100. First is for getting over the initial hill, Second is for breaking through, Third is for following through. Failing the first makes the second roll more difficult. DC is roll over 25 for yourself (the first dice), 40 for the PW-3s, and 75 for the KWS. Afterwards, rolling over 20 is better, 50 if not passing the first roll.

Rolled 23, 15, 81, 24, 19 = 162 (5d100)

>>5824038
Is the Judge with Vitelia today?

Rolled 68, 39, 45, 76, 83 = 311 (5d100)

>>5824038
Rolling.

>>5824047
Lmao He definitely isn't.

Rolled 23, 26, 98, 84, 65 = 296 (5d100)

>>5824038

The tank platoon fanned out into a line- and with you at the head of the wedge, you charged forth to conquer the hill. It would have been an inspiring sight- until you stuck the hill proper, and near every tank faltered at the steepest portion. Including your own, failing to climb further after nearly beating the hill. A singular tank from the platoon cleared the hilltop- alone as it raced forward in ignorance.

“Luigi!” you cried, “We’ll have to divert-“

“Ain’t no driver,” he huffed, ignoring you, “Gonna beat a hill that I can’t!”

The extra burst of determination found the tank sliding down somewhat, but finding purchase on a piece of the hill just barely more amenable, that collapsed as soon as you crossed over it in a tumble that shook the tank just before you also rose over the top. An admirable effort- but you’d have preferred Luigi swallowed his pride. Nothing to do for it now- time to fight, as the trench ahead was immediately bustling with activity as your allied PW-3 raced up to it, gun blazing and chattering, return fire coming with equal ferocity- especially as the tank stopped to get better shots.

“Don’t stop!” you shouted at Luigi as you checked the machine gun one more time- a group of Reich soldiers jumped from the trench to flank your fellow, and you sent them either to the Judge or back to the trench with a pair of long bursts. A quick poking up of the flag- Advance. Stopping here would be your doom, with your numbers as they were.

Both of you pushed through, plunging forward into the mist as you went- the next you’d need to see, you’d be at the fort, which was already under attack at the moment. Hopefully two tanks would be enough to buy time, at least, until the rest came.

As you exited the mist again, you were sent reeling by the mount of gunfire directed at you, and you had to pull yourself together to start shooting at shapes in the trenches that seemed the right color. With that, the fire subsided some. The people in the fort, perhaps, realizing your allegiance.

You had no further time to think. As soon as they realized what was happening, the Imperials began to weave about your tank through the trenches, doing their best to distract you, and your partner- until they realized that the other tank had shot through a belt of ammunition and was reloading, whereupon they sprang an assault.

They were repelled, just barely, but grenades had been hurled en masse at you and the other tank. Stinging bits of shrapnel had peppered you and Luigi, and something had punctured the PW-3’s inner workings, as the engine protested at the slightest movement. Luigi theorized that it was a coolant leak, and the other tank was definitely leaking. Fuel, water, nothing good. The only upside was that the other tanks had arrived- and the Reich’s attack to the south had been driven off, them retreating when they saw how outmatched they were.

File: scene_27_onwards.jpg (317 KB, 900x859)

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Finally a moment of quiet- and after you caught your breath, dared to look about with the periscope rather than the gunsights- you checked the machine gun belt, took out your pistol, and went over the top. Collapsed to the ground, waiting for a straggler to take a potshot at you. A look to your reinforcements rejoining you- one tank was missing. You motioned to the trench- you needed to reconvene while the Reich gave you peace.

One of the tanks had been lost- Corallo said that a pair of Reich tanks had engaged the others from another hilltop, as had the bunkers. One of the PW-3s had been disabled and was stuck behind, and there wasn’t a tank in the whole platoon that wasn’t seriously damaged in some way-mostly in regards to mobility or prolonged maneuvering. No more hill riding- and no speedy retreat either. Not unless you got enough time to try and make some hasty repairs. Unlikely.

Above all else, though, you ordered Corallo to remain outside and keep watch, and didn’t wait for him to agree before you went towards the bunker atop the hill, through a communication trench leading to a tightly closed hatch. It opened to accept you- a wide eyed conscript remarking that they didn’t think anybody would come for them.

“I-I th-though that,” he stammered as he shut the heavy iron door behind you, “That, there wouldn’t be a counteroffensive so…”

“There isn’t one,” you shut down the boy’s hopes. He was too young to be within the conscription age- perhaps a state’s lord had fudged the numbers so they could provide more of a commitment, or get rid of certain undesirables. “Get me to your commanding officer, or failing that, a man called Cesare Fabius. We don’t any time.”

You were brought to the latter, without being told whether he was the former. After so long, you weren’t sure what to expect- Cesare had changed his look a lot. Heavy bags now weighed his eyes, and his mustache had vanished, his hair cropped close to his head, but when he looked up at the mention of you, his old, easy smile came back, like he’d remembered something long forgotten.

“Bonetto,” he said, holding his arms out as you embraced one another, “It’s so good to see you…but we don’t have any time, do we.”

“Nor is this a place to get comfortable.” There was so much you wanted to talk about, to catch up on, but if you didn’t get things going, then you’d lose any chance to get what was left of the gang together after the war. “I’ve come with tanks. A single platoon. We’ve driven away an attack to the south and scattered troops on the way here. Whomever can move, we have a route of evacuation to take.”

“Those tanks came for me after all…” Cesare sighed, “Show me. There’s twenty five men here still able to fight, and as many who are wounded. We probably can’t move them out, if you were only able to come with one platoon…”

The two of you started heading out- though troops were already commanded to move, to peel off from their defensive positions if they could. Mortarmen in the center of the fort continued to work feverishly as you moved outside with Cesare, him impatiently pushing himself forward with a walking stick.

“What condition are they in?” Cesare asked.

“Poor,” you said, “They sustained heavy damage on the way here. We won’t be able to make it back the way we came. Not without field repairs. We don’t have the benefit of time either.”

“But without the tanks we have no advantage,” Cesare said, tapping a finger on his chin. “It’s your decision. You know the tanks best, from what I hear. I think we need them to escape just like you needed them to get here, but if you think that haste is more precious, then I’ll take your word for it.

>You’d have to take the tanks as far as they’d go, back the way you came- and drop them when they failed. That way you had time and tanks…at least, for a little bit.
>The tanks could still move. You’d just have to stick to the valleys and not test them on hills…though that would take you near occupied trenches and ground not gone over.
>You could delay for a bit- the way you came would be the best way to return, and you would only be able to do that with tanks- so you’d fix up the tanks and do it.
>Other?

>>5824285
>You’d have to take the tanks as far as they’d go, back the way you came- and drop them when they failed. That way you had time and tanks…at least, for a little bit.

>>5824285
>The tanks could still move. You’d just have to stick to the valleys and not test them on hills…though that would take you near occupied trenches and ground not gone over.
Time is precious, our tanks aren't fit to make it the whole way back we came, so we must simply make a new hole in their lines

>>5824285
>You could delay for a bit- the way you came would be the best way to return, and you would only be able to do that with tanks- so you’d fix up the tanks and do it.

>>5824285
>You could delay for a bit- the way you came would be the best way to return, and you would only be able to do that with tanks- so you’d fix up the tanks and do it.

More speed, less haste.

>>5824285
>The tanks could still move. You’d just have to stick to the valleys and not test them on hills…though that would take you near occupied trenches and ground not gone over.

>>5824285
>>The tanks could still move. You’d just have to stick to the valleys and not test them on hills…though that would take you near occupied trenches and ground not gone over.

>>5824285
>You could delay for a bit- the way you came would be the best way to return, and you would only be able to do that with tanks- so you’d fix up the tanks and do it.

>>5824285
>The tanks could still move. You’d just have to stick to the valleys and not test them on hills…though that would take you near occupied trenches and ground not gone over.

>>5824285
>You’d have to take the tanks as far as they’d go, back the way you came- and drop them when they failed. That way you had time and tanks…at least, for a little bit.

>>5824285
>You’d have to take the tanks as far as they’d go, back the way you came- and drop them when they failed. That way you had time and tanks…at least, for a little bit.

>>5824291
>>5824646
>>5824738
Taking them the way you came- as far as they could.

>>5824295
>>5824440
>>5824449
>>5824487
Move where you can move, without breaking down just on the climb.

>>5824304
>>5824344
>>5824470
Make a delay, so you can make it out at all.

Writing.

“We got this far with the tanks,” you said, “We’ll get as far back. Though we won’t be able to run them roughly. We’ll have to stick to the mists and push through whatever’s in the way there.”

“Risky,” Cesare said, scratching his chin and looking doubtfully over the hills before reflexively ducking his head back into the trench, “But we don’t have much choice, do we?”

“It was risky to get here in the first place,” you said, “But there won’t have been a point unless we make it back.”

Krause looked at you with a soft frown. “I don’t agree,” he said, “But we do need to get going now. I’ll get the men ready; I’ll trust your men to you. The moment our defenses aren’t manned, they’ll know, so find me the moment you’re prepared.”

“Right.” So you went- and gathered up the tank officers once more. Officers being a relative term, since they didn’t seem to actually hold commission.

“So,” Corallo said darkly, “What now. The tanks are beaten like a dockworker’s wife, and we’re at the top of the Reich’s shit list. Do we run or die?”

“The former,” you said, “The tanks are still hot, and they can still move as long as we don’t test them on the slopes. Look here,” you traced your finger on the map, “That’s the path we follow. It’s roundabout, but simple. We just follow the land back to our own lines.”

“In front of two trench lines,” Corallo added, pointing himself, “Crazy. That’s against every sensible way to fight on this front.”

“Not when it comes to tanks,” you countered, “Their machine guns can’t move. Ours can. Think like you want to win, or we won’t.”

Corallo had no smart remark to make to that. He knew as well as you did that nobody here had a choice besides to give up or do what you sid, and they had no better plans, or the will to remove you from authority.

“Get the men ready,” you said, “I’m getting Cesare and we’ll move as soon as the men are out, down and into the mists. No looking back. We’re halfway through, and all we have to do now is run down the other side of the proverbial hill. Vittoria per Vitelia.” A scoff all around at that, but you had to say it anyways. “Vittoria per il Futuro,” you added. “Your future. Our future. Fight for that even if all else has betrayed you. As soon as you see me again, get the tanks moving. We’re out of time to debate.”

Yet the addition you made was not mocked like the first part of the war cry- a silence that spoke beyond words.

-----

The engines of the tanks complained, screeched, and groaned as they were made to push the tanks forward again, protesting at not being allowed to lay down and die. A controlled descent was made down the hill’s slope, the infantrymen disposing of any caution and stumble-running ahead of you into the mist, where they knew that being hidden was a greater safety than anything else on this front. Cesare himself could only run awkwardly, but he refused to be taken on a tank to ride, afraid he would get in the way. Not that your tanks could outpace the well-motivated infantry in the condition they were in anyways.

Many wounded were left behind, but there was no choice but to do so when you had to fight all the way back. You could only hope that the Reich here was lenient and merciful, and not spiteful in their present victories.

“Boss.” Luigi said to you as you descended into the mists again.

“Luigi,” you responded, “I don’t want to make a hasty judgment, but I think I’ll be able to keep my word to you. This has gone decently well, despite all the setbacks.”

“Just thinking about what happens after,” Luigi said as the slope ended abruptly and he released the hand brake with an angry squealing from the tank, “We get back, and then what? The Reich’s still ready to crash down and break the line again. Do we run past the trenches and keep running?”

“We’ll decide when we get there,” you said as you pressed a signal light and waited for a response from behind to reform the column, “For now, just keep me alive and I’ll do the same for you.”

The first obstacle, so long as the mists remained thick enough to conceal you, would actually be a communication trench rather than a fighting trench. Then there would be a trench on the slope, designed to oppose an advance just like the one you were making.

This time, the Reich would not make the assumption that you were one of their own, and there wouldn’t be any hesitation. For them as you, this would be life and death.
>Roll 3 sets of 4d100 to determine tank reliability. On less than 25, the tank falters at that leg of the fight.
>Then, roll 3 sets of 1d100. The base DC is rolling above 25. For each lost tank, the DC rises by 10 for the legs after, and for each lost battle DC, the next rises by 10.

Rolled 27, 90, 32, 31 = 180 (4d100)

>>5824854

Rolled 11, 52, 76, 38 = 177 (4d100)

>>5824853
>Krause looked at you with a soft frown.
20 years too early lol.
>>5824854

Rolled 95, 59, 27, 98 = 279 (4d100)

>>5824854

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>5824854

>>5824872
You got greedy.

>>5824866
>20 years too early lol.
yfw The Revolutionary Man was never actually a canon event in the Reich/Emrean War, but just one of Von Metzeller's many sexy bed chamber roleplays (that all feature Frederick) instead

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>5824854
>>5824866
And battle roll.

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>5824854

>More pasta btfo'ing

Forget WW1 Italy, more like WW1 Russia.

>>5824866
There is never enough proofreading.

>>5824886
Surely Klaudia does not deserve this bullying.

Anyways, update coming later tonight.

The first fight was an utter debacle.

In the mists, hidden from one another, a Reich force coming to flank your earlier attack, accompanied by a few PW types of a kind you’d never seen before with turrets like the C-2, ran headlong into your column, and neither of you realized what was happening before you were parallel with each other, tanks, men, and all.
It was a chaotic mess of shooting- you didn’t know how many hits you made, how many shots were true, the targets were just as often gone the moment after you pulled the trigger and the flash and smoke cleared away. You couldn’t even tell Luigi to stop- the tanks were in such close order to do so would result in collisions. Instead, the command to spread out came, but you couldn’t check behind you to see how it was executed, not when pointed helmets were still washing over and past.

It was over before you knew it, and there was no time to count the wounded and dead, as you hurried onwards, leaving behind whatever enemy was left before they could chase you down. Trying to find each other again would result in naught but another surprise, with possibly worse an outcome.

The communication trench was reached, and sprayed down with machine gun fire from multiple tanks before it was stormed by the footmen. This was the normal of Gilician Front combat- emerging from the mists with little time for more than a single shot before closing with bayonet, club, and grenades to struggle over what cover there was to be found, or taken. There didn’t seem to be foes awaiting your attack, but the amount of time to react meant you had to assume, to fire before you thought.

The trench ahead was given the same treatment. You knew that it was there, so all of the tanks hammered it with machine gun and cannon fire while barely able to see the dishevelment in the hill, the infantry charging up between the glowing tracers.

“Forward!” you ordered Luigi, “Don’t let them fight alone!”

The tank shook as it charged up the hill, and as it pitched forward with Luigi stopping it just before the trench, you emptied the rest of the belt at the fleeing shadows to send them on their way- the tank turned, and you raked the trench, only for the tank to suddenly be rocked with an explosion that tipped it sideways into the trench. Luigi tumbled into you, and you were a tangle of limbs for a moment before you recomposed on the side of the tank, you motioning to Luigi to stay behind as you drew your pistol and prepared to exit the hatch.

Only allies surrounded you when you sprang out, though. Wordlessly, you motioned for the advance to continue down the trench. Luigi following you in a daze before picking up a discarded rifle himself.

Not even now could you stop. Attacked from the flank by tanks and more, the Reich vacated the trench in haste, and you ran into little more opposition that didn’t throw down its arms and flee on the spot.

The final trench would be ahead- and you lead the next attack without hesitation. Just like Castello Malvagio…you wouldn’t see the blood until you were in the trenches with the enemy. You’d drilled and trained for months, but you hadn’t been in such a fight as this since that dark day.

“Charge!” you cried, “This is the last-“

A sudden flash from the mist, like that of a cannon- then a loud crash, and…darkness.

-----

It felt like it was dark for a long time. A peaceful, quiet dark, without even a whispered suggestion to stray from it. No thoughts, no fears, or sensation. Simply blissful emptiness.

Then, whispers. Voices speaking furtively to one another. You heard snatches of conversation- about you, about the future, about plans, but nothing that you could follow. You simply floated…until you felt weight again, and warmth.

“Wake up, Bonetto,” an annoyed, familiar voice spoke- a feminine one, from a long time ago. “God, did you stay up late the night before our wedding?” You opened your eyes- a blonde hill woman with straight hair down to her shoulders was pointing accusatorily to you, a loose blouse and taut work trousers on her. Bright blue eyes, a speckled face and neck, a light tan of labor. “Didn’t you come back to be with me? Not to study more Emrean rambling? Besides…” She bent down and kissed you on the lips, “I want to keep you up all night, so you’d better get enough coffee in you to be up all week.”

“Wuh…” You shook your head, “Elena?”

Elena pouted at you, then grit her teeth in a fuming scowl. “What, you’ve forgotten my name now, too? Yes, idiot! It’s your fiancée! Now get up, you’re making everybody wait on you.”

But…this wasn’t…

You got up, and the world wobbled, shifted in color, went from day to night. You were looking out the window, suddenly, at the moon and stars. Elena’s voice came from behind, and her arms went around your neck.

“Bonetto…” She sighed, “Come back to bed. I’m a married woman, I don’t want to sleep alone.”

You turned around- it was day again, and Elena was sitting on the bed, her belly large, and her eyes red. Something was in your hand- you looked down. A conscription notice?

“They can’t wait?” Elena sobbed, “Why do they need so many people? I thought we would have won a long time ago…”

You looked down again, but this time, instead of a paper, it was your empty hand, gloved, the sleeve of a uniform, covered in dust, mud, ash. A look upwards again. Barren hills, a dark sky…then a column of light splitting the night, a rumbling in the earth, a scream felt by your spirit but unheard by the ears…then the light burst into a swirling inferno, and the sky was set alight with a bloody light…

It was hard to breathe…

Suddenly your eyes flew open again and you gasped for air. Where now? What now?

…

…

…It was dark, but light filtered in from outside- starlight. The room around you was grey and blue with the night. A lamp- you flicked it on, and it stung your eyes. Your arms and legs felt uncharacteristically weak, and you sat up with a creak in your back, an ache in your shoulders, a ringing pain in your skull…but this time, the moments passed by without the world going blurry and changing.

Were you awake? Alive? A hospice gown covered you. What was the date? Where was a newspaper?

No. Merely a volume of the Saints’ Chronicle. You sat and flipped through it until the sun rose…and somebody came through the door of your room.

“Ah!” a young nurse girl, “Signore Bonaventura, you’ve woken up!”

Time to get straight to the point. “What day is it?” you asked directly.

“Huh? Oh…” She had to think on it. “The eighth of June.”

…A whole month… “…of the year Nineteen and Ten, right?”

The tension went out of the nurse’s shoulders. “Oh, Signore, it hasn’t been that long since you came here. Of course it’s Nineteen and Ten.”

You exhaled in relief. “…Good.” Only a month. “Is the war..?”

The girl blinked. “Oh, right. An…armistice? Ceasefire? It was declared just yesterday. Vitelia isn’t…in a war anymore.”

Oh…you would have asked after the circumstances of such, but you already knew. Vitelia was in no position to have a favorable ceasefire. What of Emre, as well. Surely the Reich didn’t win again…

…

Now wasn’t the time. You had to get dressed and leave this place. You’d been here far too long.

-----

Nobody at the hospital knew anything that you wanted to know. The nature of what was kept secret remained, and they didn’t even know who had entered you beyond the unit- you had been shipped in with a bunch of other stable, but helpless living bodies. You’d come in with a severe inury to the head- the remnants of which still ran in a pale like running through your eyebrow to your scalp. You didn’t feel like you had a brain injury, though, and nothing could keep you here against your will.

So you had to leave. For somewhere else. Anywhere else.

>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.
>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.
>Head home. It’d been long enough since you’d left there, and anybody else could find you there anyways.
>Other?

>>5825327
>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed
My fellow revolutionaries, the Dawn is nigh!

>>5825327
>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.

>>5825327
>>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.

>>5825327
>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.

>>5825327
>>Head home. It’d been long enough since you’d left there, and anybody else could find you there anyways.

>>5825327
>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.
Altough, we should write a letter to Yena.

>>5825327
>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.
Sitrep first

>>5825327
>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.

>>5825327
This >>5825574

>>5825327
>>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.
Checking up on the wife was probably the first thing a soldier that got out of the hospital would do.

>>5825327
>Somewhere military, perhaps where Leo was. Somewhere you had authority. You needed to learn what happened- and if you were needed.
We missed the end of the war for two females. Good job, simps.

>>5825327
>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.
Though I do want to contact the military sometime again.

>Go to Yena. She probably had no idea what happened, or where you were, and you needed to prove you were alive.

The military situation can wait with the armistice. Yena not knowing Bonetto’s alive is a much more pressing concern.

>>5825327
Are we still in Gilicia, or back in the interior?

>>5826054
Cesare isn't female..

>>5825336
>>5825353
>>5825443
>>5825574
>>5825626
>>5825995
>>5826054
Get up to speed with your duties.

>>5825352
>>5825676
>>5826013
>>5826063
>>5826091
Check on your woman and smaller woman.

>>5825559
Go home.

Updating.

>>5826161
I am presuming the other female is Vittoria.

>>5826135
In the interior- Specifically near Donom Dei.

>>5826194
Bit out of left field, but I'm flipping through the archive, and a while back you mentioned a picture of Anya in the new Republic's uniform with her courier motorcycle, but I can't for the life of me find it.
Would you mind dropping it at the end of the thread for me? Insert joke about Anya being the bike here

>>5826194

Do you have any casualty estimates of the Reich/Vitelia/Emre for the conflict? Between this and a full scale civil war to come down the line I'd imagine modern day Vitelia's demographics is going to be impacted with the loss of so much fighting men.

>>5826161
Yena and the daughter are.

Much as you wanted to go find your fiancée and her daughter…the real one, not the…other one. You had to clear the fog around what was happening first. There was a danger of outpacing any letter depending on the state of the nation, but you’d write one anyways. Not a long one- no need to go into detail about falling in battle and waking up the Judge Above only knew where. A military long term care hospital near Donom Dei, as it turned out- minded over by a nearby Cathedra Convent. Even though early on in the war, you’d heard that the Vilja Domkarl had condemned the war.

The trains weren’t running nearly on time. You asked around for what lines you’d need to take to get to the Assault School, in the center of the country. Near Monte Nocca, actually. It took you a day and a half- which gave you plenty of time to write and drop off a letter for Yena. A far longer travel time than would be normal, but every train was accounted for, and eventually, you simply hung on the outside railings when the last leg simply would not take passengers, no matter their import, such as, say, a Brevet Captain.

Your attaché case with what few things had been sent with you in one hand, you clung to the freight train with the other until the station came into view, whereupon you pushed yourself off with a mighty leap, intending to walk the rest of the way rather than come up with an excuse why you felt the need to stow away.

A brushing off of the dust on your shirt and trousers, and a running of your fingers through your hair. Somebody had shaved off your mustache- at least they prevented a beard from scuffing up your face. Maybe Leo wouldn’t be too different when you met with him again, as you hoped to. He would give you an unfiltered opinion on what had gone on, and in your state of mind, you didn’t want to deal with the evasiveness of official releases.

The walk was longer than you thought- and what wouldn’t have been tiring before, was now. You’d grown weak while recuperating. That wouldn’t do. Finally though, you reached the town, a small place called Gruccia, and had a light lunch with coffee. The prices were sky-high. The ceasefire apparently hadn’t caused an end to all the other aspects of the war…you’d borrow more money from Leo. He owed you some still from a couple years ago.

The sun began to sink as you arrived at the gates of the complex called the Assault School- you checked the watch that had come all this way with you, beaten like a schoolboy’s lunch tin. Three o’clock. Back in university, now would be when the last daytime classes would be wrapping up. Would Arditi still be training now? If the ceasefire stayed, they wouldn’t be needed. If it didn’t, then they would be. A flash of your rank badge at the gates- you were allowed in. The gate guards had pressed for an explanation or a record of an appointment, but only once- they didn’t seem to care at all that you were there on a whim.

The training yards were empty- clean. Not used recently. That answered that question…but, from a large shed, there were the telltale grunts and whacking noises of somebody training with a heavy bag. Curiosity led you there- and you found the object of your search early, Leo training with his shirt off, cloth tape around his hands, furiously laying into a tall leather bag that buckled and swung with each powerful blow, the sound of impact echoing off the inside of the thin metal roof and walls. With a shout, Leo put all his power into a right haymaker that tore the bag open. Whatever didn’t explode out spilled all over the floor, a storm of grain seeds all over the place.

“…Damn it,” Leo sighed as he checked the burlap shreds hanging limply from a rope, “Third one this week.”

“Not saving any equipment for me, I see,” you said.

Leo’s head snapped around to look at you, and he grinned widely as he approached. “Bonetto! Last I heard, you were…” He embraced you and held you tightly against him. “…I’m glad you’re up and at it again, Bonetto. I only heard that you were in a coma when I asked after you. Are you feeling alright?”

“I could be better,” you admitted, tapping Leo’s bicep to let you go. You were narrower than you were when you had last tussled, after all. “I went out to try and save Cesare…have you heard anything about..?”

Leo hesitated. “…No. Sorry, Bonetto, when I asked, they said he was missing.”

“How did I make it back?” you asked.

“Your driver,” Leo said. “But he said that somebody else was guarding you by the time he made it over to lug you back. From how he described the person, can’t have been anybody else than…y’know.”

You looked down. Bit your lip, grit your teeth. You’d come there for him, not the other way around. Now nobody could say where he was, or if he lived. It had been a month, who were you kidding? Yet you wanted to believe, somehow, you had made just enough difference to see him again.

“Sorry,” Leo said as he went to the table and put his shirt on, pulling his arms through long, dark sleeves. “I didn’t want to hit you with that, but that’s what you ended up out for so long for, and all.”

“I’m alright,” you put on a brave face, “I’ve missed a lot. I need to know what happened, what’s going on, where…everybody, is.”

“All the heavy stuff first, huh,” Leo said as he pulled out a stool and sat on it. “Find a seat, anywhere’s fine. No students here right now anyways.”

As you pulled up a crate full of training grenades, judging by the label, Leo went into the events since that dark day. He wasn’t sure himself, but he’d heard some things from officers, from sneaky correspondences, and plain observation. After the Reich breakthrough on both fronts, the Vitelian army was sent sprawling- but wasn’t destroyed. A shocking number were isolated and captured, surrendered, or were otherwise put out of the war, but the Reich had only dedicated so many resources to this sudden offensive. It had largely been halted two weeks past, at the end of May, and while not all of the ground taken over the winter offensive had been lost, the Vitelian Royal Army was in a precarious state, the lines held by household militia and Royal Navy sailors, whomever could be scraped up and armed. That was when the Reich extended a hand in negotiations- a ceasefire for now. All territory currently held to remain occupied as it was, until a later date. A good deal considering the ruined state of the army- one that High Command was quick to seize upon proclaiming as a victory.

However, most didn’t see it that way. How many lives had been lost, how much money sent down the drain, equipment destroyed, blood shed and bodies broken for…what? Some islands and a slice of the Auratus, if current occupation remained the terms of peace?

Unrest was rumbling throughout the land, in many cities. Most had been told that victory was eminent, only to have their expectations shaken. Even they didn’t know the full extent of the truth, but were enraged at the ceasefire. After all, as far as they knew, the Reich was hanging on by a thread. Especially with the news of the Emrean Offensive in the north, recently, hitting a new stride and pushing the Reich out of the Emrean protectorate in its entirety. They were now charging south, through the lands known as the Emmerach, down to the Reich Proper, and potentially destroying the Grossreich for good. Yet Vitelia would, for some reason, not be a part of this noble endeavor? Ridiculous, said many, and quite a few left to join the volunteer brigades that already had been in Emre. All of them people ignorant of the war. No soldiers. Mostly politically motivated youths, like the two of you had been.

He had heard from your household- the one you took, not your actual hometown. Yena was doing just fine- though she was despondent at not hearing at all of where you where, or what might have happened to you.

“Really though, Bonetto?” Leo raised an eyebrow at you, “Vittoria Antonia? What are you going to name your next daughter, Angelica Loch?”

“After a Reich philosopher?” you turned your nose up, “And Vittoria is a fine name, thank you very much.”

“I think you might slip and speak in Imperial,” Leo smirked at you. A little much needed levity. Especially for what was to come next: as Leo knew some people who had access to casualty reports that were otherwise not widely distributed. They were still incomplete, given that the ceasefire had only been declared two days ago, but given how the Special Weapons Battalion had fared earlier, it was either a case of them having made it out…or not.

>Roll 6 sets of 1d100 for the fates of your fellows. 50 is the baseline for intactness- lower is worse, higher is more heroic. In order- your driver, your former commanding officer, her driver, your second in command, your rival’s cousin, and his own friend and rival.

Rolled 61, 95, 56, 60, 40, 49 = 361 (6d100)

>>5826548

>>5826549
My bad, just take the first roll.

File: Spoiler Image (1.18 MB, 1056x1200)

1.18 MB PNG

>>5826306
>Do you have any casualty estimates of the Reich/Vitelia/Emre for the conflict? Between this and a full scale civil war to come down the line I'd imagine modern day Vitelia's demographics is going to be impacted with the loss of so much fighting men.
I don't really have ones I'd be happy with since I haven't thought long and deep enough for it, but I can say with certainty that, proportionally speaking, the Grossreich and Emre actually suffered more than Vitelia did, but Vitelia was still not prepared at all for the brutality they would have to endure. They still lost too many, considering what comes after...

>>5826251
Sure, I've got it here. Though it is pretty old and was never properly finished- I've thought a lot about remaking it, but there's a lot of things I have to get done before I remake old digital stuff. Lots of pencil stuff.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>5826548
Lets see for Chiara

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>5826548

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>5826548

>>5826587
RIP lol.
If Cesare is also gone it's really going to be Bonetto and Leo left....

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>5826587
RIP Chiara, you were a good midget

>>5826587
I guess if we have a second daughter we have a name picked out for her already.

Rolled 64 (1d100)

Well this isn't what I expected.
One more roll to seal it.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5826548

>>5826587
>Everyone but Chiara made it
Big oof

>>5826641
Maybe that high Marcella roll can save her?
Would be funny to see the PCQ maimed female tradition continue though.

Most had lived. Your platoon, which distinguished itself in your absence and escaped when their tanks failed. Your driver, Luigi, had rejoined with the other tankers and done his duty admirably with only small wounds. Marcella and Chiara had exceeded expectations in their respective capabilities…only…

Cesare being potentially lost had already shaken you. To know Chiara was…was…

You buried your face in your hands, and the tears came no matter how you wished they wouldn’t. Those days consulting one another, the mornings with cold coffee, the talks about the future, about your platoon, your performance, her frustrations with her inadequacies…and what Yena would think when she found out…

“It’s alright, Bonetto,” Leo said flatly, “It’s alright to cry. The Judge Above knows that I did.” He put his head against the shed’s wall in contemplation, remembrance. “I didn’t want to accept it, Bonetto. I wanted all our…our bullshit to be something we put aside ‘til later. Yeah, I fucked her, and you know what? I saw how happy she was when I did. I didn’t want to take that from her. Then I went ahead and took it. I didn’t want to make anybody sad, so I left everybody out in the cold. Now she’s dead. And I liked her, Bonetto. I really, really did. But I didn’t want to hurt her. But she’s dead now, and what really kills me…is that I kept her away when it would’ve made her happy if I just wrote back a little. I had plenty of time, Bonetto. I could have done it, just to make her happy. Then, she goes and gets killed. She lives long enough to write me one last letter, and I read all of them, Bonetto, and that last one most of all. Know what she said? She wanted me to live happily like she promised herself she would make me live. Make Marcella happy, for serving so well despite how she spited her when she shouldn’t have.”

He whirled on you, a mad look in his sky-blue eyes. “I’m a fucking failure of a man, Bonetto. Tell me I’m not, I dare you. I got Cesare killed because I begged on my hands and knees to not fight alone. I could have brought Chiara with me if I wasn’t a fucking pussy, and now she’s dead. I’ll never see that gladness in her eyes, that smile, so hard to get on her face, it’ll never come back. Some Imperial devil stole it from her, and I hope that the Judge Above puts his worthless soul into the deepest, darkest abyss, for what he stole from this world, and I hope he puts me right next to that bastard.”

You looked up, your cheeks wet, your eyes only wanting to close…but you didn’t want to hear these words anymore. You stood up, opened your arms, and wrapped them around Leo’s back.

“Leo,” you said wearily, “Don’t leave me alone. Please. You’re the only one left…” You patted him on the back, “The only one who understands what we’ve been through…don't give up yet.”

Your closest companion, your sole compatriot in the journey for the future, froze like his spine had turned to ice, then melted, and put his arms around you too. “Sorry, Bonetto,” he whispered, “I’m supposed to be the strong one. I shouldn’t make you carry me on your shoulders. Even if you’re strong enough.”

You released one another respectfully, and collapsed back to your seats. Stayed silent. There was nothing that could be said, nothing that could distract from the truth of your lives, save the passage of time. You let the sun set as you continued the silent remembrance, and reassurance.

Leo finally broke the silence. “…Bonetto.”

“Mm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Leo,” you said sharply, “I came along with you of my own accord. There’s nothing to apologize for. You know we all believed in the same thing.”

The big man looked down again. Spoke once more. “Alright. Just one thing, then.”

“Anything.”

“I’ve realized something, Bonetto,” Leo looked up at the roof of the shed with an empty gaze, “I need to go for the top. When I found out what happened to Chiara, to Cesare, I was full of hatred, felt I had to go…I don’t know, fight the Reich. Now there’s peace, and I thought about going to Emre to fight more. But no matter how hard I fight, no matter how good I’ve gotten at bleeding the Imperials enough for their blood to make the Vitelian Sea turn red, it’ll never be enough. Not as a single soldier. So I have to try and get as high as I can.” He looked back to you. “What do you think, Bonetto? It’s all over. So what next..? I want to know what you think.”

>Go for the top, like he said. You’d catch up. You’d be there with him. What was this war for, if it couldn’t at least place you where you needed to be to vanguard the future?
>Leo had fought hard enough. Trained hard enough. He was strong enough. Chiara wanted him to be happy and to take care of Marcella. You knew yourself where happiness was…
>Other?

>>5826662

>Go for the top, like he said. You’d catch up. You’d be there with him. What was this war for, if it couldn’t at least place you where you needed to be to vanguard the future?

Either way he should have a long talk with Marcella now, not sure how receptive she'll be to being the 'fallback option' as it was.

Also suggest he swing by the house soon-ish, I think Yena could really use the emotional support as she and Bonetto mourns.

>>5826662
>Go for the top, like he said. You’d catch up. You’d be there with him. What was this war for, if it couldn’t at least place you where you needed to be to vanguard the future?
This debacle wouldn't have happened if we were in charge.

And yeah, he should definitely come visit. If nothing else, we need him to escort us and our mosshead wife up the tallest mountain.

>>5826682
Additionally we have to attend the wake and funeral, if it hasn't passed yet.

Shit.
I'm so sad I can't even vote.