“Westbuchtr has allowed for our soldiers to be extracted from Halmeggia,” the advisor said hastily; the Kaiser needed something to lighten his mood, lest he become further tempted towards short sighted fury. “And it appears that this evacuation will go ahead unhindered. However…” The advisor stepped up to the throne, and spoke closely with the Kaiser, “The Prince and Princess will not be returning with them. As the airfield being used for the operation is heavily garrisoned with servants from the Aristocratic factions, it would be too dangerous to try to ferry them home by that route. You are one of the very few who will know the details, but a small party was assembled to evade enemy forces until a more secure extraction can be made by the Reichsmarine.”

“I see,” the Kaiser loosened somewhat, but he kept his eyes hard and was clearly still ill at ease. “And when can that be made? I understand that Westbuchtr has stated their intent to blockade all entry into Halmeggia. To prevent further intrusion upon the affairs of sovereign peoples. Pah! If preparations were not so careful they would practically be demanding that my patience reach its end with them, damn the consequences.”

“Well, milord,” the advisor said, “Serious political pressure cannot be made without involving the public, and considering the nature of the current state of affairs, all of our dealings must be made with subtlety…we do not expect quick progress. It may be several days, or it may be weeks.”

“Weeks?” the Kaiser opened the fist he was resting against and squeezed his brow. “Judge Above. That is intolerable. Inform whomever is on this task that they have one week at most to reach an agreement, if more time is taken than that then the chances of the Royal Family’s survival are too low, and we’ll have to think of something stupid.”

-----

You are Captain Reinhold Roth-Vogel, and you had discovered a friendly bunch of Revolutionaries, too inexperienced and desperate for their reasoning to penetrate your hastily made disguises, and thus eager to submit themselves to your command. It was an unexpected boon for your fresh expedition into Revolutionary Lines, which you had undertaken to hide from the Aristocratic Union as you waited for another way to get the Halmeggian Royal Family (what was left of it) out of the country. There was no negotiating that you had to abandon the rest of your allies, by order of Colonel Talmeier; but you were allowed to take any route you wanted in evading capture until the Reichsmarine landed on the beach to take you and your little band of rogues home, and you had decided to follow your intelligence specialist Owl 3’s suggestion of attempting to blend in with the Revolutionaries, specifically this southern group as chaos ruled in their lines, allowing one such as yourself the chance to slip in among them.

When it came to accomplishing that particular goal, these new Revolutionaries you met, a weak and utterly unsuited for battle hodge-podge band of five people led by a pudgy city fellow, whose eagerness far, far outstretched their capability, these militia would be the perfect tool to aid the authenticity of your new identity as a commander among the Revolutionaries who, in the turmoil that was going on, had taken up the reins of leadership and was drawing disparate elements to himself. However…you were torn. They were a perfect cover, but part of that was because they were utterly useless for anything else. Part of you felt bad about taking advantage of that; another part, funnily enough, was sympathetic to your charge’s concerns. Not Alexander’s; so far as he was concerned, he was likely of the mind that these ”peasants” could go die. Princess Edelina was a kinder, gentler soul by far, and you knew from her beliefs that she would consider these people her countrymen still; and undeserving of a death by preventable foolishness.

Why care about the whims of a princess who no longer had anything more than a claim to her country, instead of minimizing the efforts required to fulfill your mission, like Owl 3 would advise? You weren’t sure. Maybe it was sentiment, maybe you had had enough of death after yesterday. Perhaps they would be far more helpful in rebuilding Halmeggia than in rising up in its self-immolation, and maybe the Princess’s optimism and compassionate outlook was infectious. Or maybe it was because Edelina had a fat set of cans. That theory, though funny, held less weight since Winnifred had dressed the princess in a loose pullover sweater that, while unflattering, very much hid any distinguishing features of figure, which was probably for the better.

So you decided, after having a brief look at Team Leader Cappocho’s fighters, that you would use what little fictional power you had vested in you by the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia to have them turn in their armbands and weaponry to you before going home, or at least just dissolving into the countryside. They were too ideologically driven to just have it suggested to them to knock it off and go back to bed; it had to be a command.

“Signore Cappocho,” you twirled your Vitelian dramatically, the way any romantic in a talkie would; you heard noises from the female militia nearby that you didn’t know what to make of. Reich girls loved Vitelian accents, you presumed that the proximity would make Halmeggian girls less mystified by it, but if that pair was any indication then it drove them goddamn bonkers. “Your bravery is commendable, but I have orders from above that perhaps you may not like…if you would follow them nevertheless, the Revolution will greatly benefit, and the time for you to fight shall come another day.”

“Ah.” Somehow, maybe it was the deep sigh that came from Cappocho’s lips after that, you got the feeling that the soft man wasn’t that displeased by what you were implying. “What’cha mean, uh, sig nor ay?”

“You see, the Revolutionary Council has decided that our efforts are best spent advancing in another direction!” the flattering common term for a retreat. “Any irregulars who are unable to move quickly, are to give their equipment and armbands, and other uniform equipment, to Revolutionary commanders they encounter.” You pointed to Cappocho’s gun, then to his hat, and smiled sweetly. “I’ve lost my own cap in all that’s happened. I’d appreciate a replacement.”

“Oh, uh, ‘course,” Cappocho slipped the cap off his head, looked at it mournfully, before passing it to you. It did a decent job of covering a receding hairline, but now Cappocho really looked like he would fit better anywhere else. A baker, a schoolteacher, just about anything besides a militiaman. When he slung off his rifle and handed it over, along with a fistful of clips that was in his satchel, the transformation back to a completely ordinary man was complete. He hadn’t questioned you at all; such was either his faith in your false identity, or his desire for an out of this mess that lacked the dishonor of dropping his arms and fleeing.

It was a good thing that their confidence was placed in your strength of arms; to be frank, you didn’t know a lick about the Revolution’s ideals; that it was a Revolution in and of itself told just about nothing. You may have heard the word anarchist thrown around sometimes but that was sort of a word used just for the sake of it. Reactionary-Nationalist? Whatever. Politics weren’t your game.

“Thank you, signore,” you put the hat over your head; it was a bit loose, so you tilted it at a lazy angle to the front and side. Commander Strazzo, you decided, wore his cap like this, over one eye. “Do not lose heart. This way, you can lay low until we return this way, and we can rearm you and have you back in in no time, once the time is right.”

This news, relayed to the rest of Cappocho’s team, resulted in most of them surrendering their weapons and armbands with little complaint. They didn’t seem glad to be not fighting, but rather, happy that they were able to help in this extremely simple way. Their time would come later; and, if there was any disbelief in their minds for the cause, they would have the chance to sit tight and see where the winds blew. Though, if you were to say yourself, having the Revolutionary lines bisected like this was a fatal blow to any hopes they might have towards a total victory, let alone a quick one.

One of the female “fighters,” a mousey girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty who had huge round glasses, built like a twig with frayed, white blonde hair tied into a braided ponytail, her face blasted all over with freckles, and after she had put down her weapon (it looked to be a cavalry carbine; probably preferable given her size), she had shyly offered you a baked good wrapped in wax paper.

“Ah, grazie, sweet lily,” you took it without question, deciding to trade it for a peck on the cheek.

You barely caught the girl as she fainted. Her friend, seeming to be without anything suitable as a parting gift, did naught but seethe silently.
Meanwhile, though Cappocho seemed to be able to tell the meeker young man what to do easily, he fell into an argument with the other, who in spite of being shorter and smaller had much more fire in him.

“Signores, what is the matter?” you stepped towards them. “Mind that, though the enemy may not be near, we are not in a situation where we can fight among ourselves.”

“Commander, I’m not gonna just go home and sit around with my thumb up my ass while the fate of this country is decided!” the young baby faced man declared as he pushed Cappocho aside. You really didn’t like his lack of trigger discipline on what on closer inspection appeared to be a hunting shotgun. “You’ve gotta have room for at least one person in that truck, or on one a those tanks, you’ve gotta.”

“Have you ever fired the gun?” you asked, pointing to the shotgun.

“…Well, no, but-“

“Take your finger off the trigger before you hurt somebody.”

The kid’s ears flushed red as he adjusted his hold on the gun. “…Okay, sure, I’m probably not that great in a fight, but come on, I’m only one person, I promise I won’t get in the way. I’ll do whatever you want.” He pointed to the disguised paratroopers, “You’re not gonna tell me they’re not volunteers like us! Well, I mean, they’re a lot bigger, an’ tougher, but that’s not what really counts.”

>No. As the situation is right now, you would be a hindrance. Lay low and wait, or else you’ll surely die.
>You’re little more than a child. Your drive is commendable, but the Revolution will not stain its hands by sacrificing the young if it is not absolutely necessary. Wait for some other war to earn your spurs, this won’t be the only one in history.
>If you insist, fine. Just you. But you do whatever I say immediately and without question.
>Other?

>Past Threads Archive Pastebin (Luftpanzer is at the top): https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
>twitter is @scheissfunker for updates and announcements.

This will probably be the final thread of Luftpanzer.

>>3222953
>You’re little more than a child. Your drive is commendable, but the Revolution will not stain its hands by sacrificing the young if it is not absolutely necessary. Wait for some other war to earn your spurs, this won’t be the only one in history.

>Someone needs to still be around when this war is over to help rebuild our country. I'm counting on you.

>>3222953
I'm with this guy >>3222972

>>3222972
Supporting

I melted into primordial ooze for a solid few hours, but I have somehow crawled out of my own muck and have come back. Anyways.

>>3222972
>>3223886
>>3224013
Get out babby what do you think this is Fire Emblem

Writing

You shook your head at the kid. “You’re little more than a child. Your drive is commendable, but-“

“Don’t call me a child!” the boy snarled, clenching his fists, “I’m through with being a child! The only difference between a child and an adult is that nobody minds after an adult, and I’m through with that!”

“If I could finish?” you asked levelly. The boy did, to his credit, let you get words in edgewise. “Your drive is commendable, but the Revolution will not stain its hands by sacrificing the young if it is not absolutely necessary. Wait for-”

“It isn’t absolutely necessary right now?” the young man cut you off again. “This country is-“

“Ahem.” You cleared your throat sternly and stood straight, making sure to illustrate fully how much taller you were than the runt. Maybe you were known for a grinning idiot mug, but you knew plenty well how to look scary. “As I was saying. Wait for some other war to earn your spurs, this won’t be the only one in history. Your place is not in a shallow grave on the front line, it is after all of this, when Greater Vitelia requires strong hearts to rebuild its lands after all of this. This is just as important a task as fighting a war. If the young are all dead, what future is there for the Revolution?” You put a hand on his shoulder; he was wound up tight and stiff as a board, and he nearly tipped over. “I am counting on you for this. The Revolution is. We fight for a greater tomorrow, not to waste lives.”

That gave the young man pause for thought. He so desperately wanted to fling himself off a cliff, but again, when an alternative route was “officially” sanctioned, and said to be of more benefit, and it was the sort of task he implicitly had more confidence in doing, even if he saw it as less valorous…

“Fine.” He said firmly, “I understand. I’ll give up the armband, but…this gun is my father’s. He would be upset if he lost it.”

“That’s fine.” you didn’t much need a hunting shotgun anyways. “But give me it for a moment.” When, after hesitation, he did, you broke open the action and extracted a pair of slugs. “Now hand over the rest of them you have.” After he did, you took Cappocho’s bag and dropped the shells into his satchel. “You know each other, I’d guess? Give those back to his father so he doesn’t get in any trouble.”

And that was that.

-----

“That was a rather sentimental speech,” Owl 3 approached after all the militia had been surely sent on their way, and your men were organizing the spoils. With five more armbands, the entire fallschirmjager infantry team could assume proper “uniform,” and enough weapons had been donated to you as well to replace the Kar1914s, if needed. If you could better disguise the Luftpanzers everything would be complete, with Owl 3’s help to augment the authenticity of your illusions.

“I try,” you smiled at her slightly, “I didn’t happen to contradict any of the Revolution’s beliefs, did I?”

“The Revolution’s beliefs, due to its structure, are inconsistent. Their many parts believe just as many different things, though they do all follow one general tenant.” Winnifred said matter of factly, putting a finger on your armband. “The blood of the oppressor, the light of the inevitable rise of The Class. That is what the Dawn Stripes symbolize.” She pointed to Sergeant Schneider with her other hand. “Inform him at some point that he is wearing his colors upside down.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that thing you said,” the way she said it, really. “What the hell is The Class?”

“A principle of Arbach Engel, or as he preferred to refer to himself, Anton Ange, the Emrean Philosopher.” Winnifred told you, “He was one of many voices advocating for Emrean independence, though he died some time before they actually achieved it. You do not know of Engel?”

You shook your head. “I’ve heard the name. Dunno anything about it.” It might not have helped that more than a few boring classes of philosophy were spent playing around with whatever girlfriend you had that week under their skirts in the backs of the lecture halls rather than actually paying any attention.

“Even though the Revolution’s general principles are based heavily on Engelian principles, Engel was not a revolutionary. He was a utopianist. His most influential work was The Forthcoming Dawn, where he described his idea of The Class. The Class were the people of the future, who would replace kings, lords, laborers and beggars, everything. He argued that the rise of The Class was an inevitability; people would since this only ever be defined by their nation and, as somewhat an extension, their ideas. A utopia of equals enforced solely by the nature of this new people.”

“That sounds like a load of hooey.”

“Mm. Engel was an opium addict and allegedly a homosexual. That he was a strange character, there is no doubt, but his ideas concerning The Class influenced many, including the famed Edmund Loch.”

“So if The Class is an inevitability, according to this poppy sucking fruit,” you deliberated, “Why is the Revolution doing its revolutionary thing?”

“Humanity is not known for its patience.”

“I guess not.” You admitted.

“But as I said, though Engelian philosophy is the backing of the ideas of Greater Vitelia, their beliefs are varying, and do tend to have more nuance to account for the obvious flaws in the base texts.” Winnifred went on.

“I’d hope so.” You supposed you’d learned something for the future in exploiting this mask; you also supposed that what you’d heard was the average Revolutionary’s basic idea of what they were doing. Everything for the better tomorrow and all that. The subject wanted to be changed, though. “Hey, so, how do I look, now that my dress is complete?” you turned to an angle, then the reverse, to show yourself off to your intelligence specialist. “Do I look like a proper Revolutionary? A handsome one, at that? If I spoke with the proper accent, would you eat me up?”

“I thought those women earlier demonstrated the latter.” Owl 3 said, as she peered about your person. “You should have an officer’s cap, but this will do fine enough. Considering the state of this part of the Revolutionary line, you may be overdressed.”

“I’m flattered.”

“We must continue.” Owl 3 followed up. “I will not question why you sent that group home. That action has its merits as well as its flaws. However, we must find somebody to attach to. A group with no connections to anybody whatsoever will quickly grow more and more suspicious.”

“Aye.” You agreed, “Let’s load right back up, then.” Though, as Owl 3 nodded and turned swiftly away, you remembered the wrapped pastry you’d been given. You opened it up to see what it was; a frosted sugar roll with sugared blackberries atop it, as it turned out. It appeared homemade.

If you kept it for long, you frowned in recollection of many misfortunes, you’d probably accidentally sit on it or smash it against something.

>Eat it yourself. It was a gift for you; regifting it would be insulting.
>Offer it to Owl 3. She hadn’t really been rewarded at all for her hard work.
>Give it to the princess. She needed a pick-me-up.
>Other?

>>3224891
>Offer it to Owl 3. She hadn’t really been rewarded at all for her hard work.

>>3224891
>Give it to the princess. She needed a pick-me-up.

PRINCESS NOTICE ME

>>3224891
>>Offer it to Owl 3. She hadn’t really been rewarded at all for her hard work.

>>3224891
>>Offer it to Owl 3. She hadn’t really been rewarded at all for her hard work.

>>3224973
>>3225170
>>3225215
Feed the scrawny bird lady.

>>3225116
Let them eat cake

Seems that Owl 3's diet is coming to an end.

Writing.

“…Hey, hold on a second,” you stepped up by Owl 3 as she stopped, and looked at you inquisitively. “Have you eaten anything at all since you got caught? I haven’t seen you eat anything.” You held up the sugar roll to her. “Here, for all your hard work.”

“…That’s not…” Owl 3 started to say, but then you heard a gurgling sound come from her abdomen.

You poked playfully below her ribs. “What, are you concerned that you’ll gain weight if you eat sweets? You’re so thin around the middle that when you blow up you’re probably only slightly wider than an alley cat.” You raised the pasty to Owl 3’s face and pushed it against her mouth; she backed off, frosting stuck to her lip. “Come on.”

Owl 3 ran her tongue over her lip and caught the frosting stuck there. Her face was frozen for a few moments, before she reached forward slowly and took the roll from you. “If you insist.” She looked down at the roll she now held in two hands, then back at you. “I appreciate it.”

Owl 3 had a cute way of eating, you noted as you smirked and stepped away; she didn’t wait for long to start. She took tiny little nibbles, as though she had to extend the food for as long as possible. Though considering her past, you realized, maybe that was a bit more sad than cute after all…

“Captain.” Owl 3 called after you shortly. “It is not necessary that I be rewarded for doing my tasks, but it is appreciated all the same.”

“That,” you pointed an outstretched arm and finger towards her, “Is entirely why it is necessary.”

Maybe a hint of upturned corners of the lip, at best, was all you could get out of Winnifred Von Löwenkreuz with that.

-----

The funniest thing about the morning was the utter lack of gunfire; even as you saw the first wave of transports flying out, carrying your comrades to safety, nothing shot at them. Very far off booms indicated war was still happening somewhere else, but it was as though it was happening in a different country, and not over a hill like what had passed for quiet up until now. As you watched a Siglin-Marconi heavy transport steadily ascend, you broke your gaze off to turn around, and saw Sergeant Schneider staring wistfully too. Was that the face you had when you were looking as well, you wondered, relief, yet also unease and apprehension, the understanding of why you weren’t on that plane, but the desire to even be clinging to its outside? You didn’t look back to the planes, no matter how much their din from behind, overhead, then ahead called for you to watch. After they were gone, the fighters would leave as well, and from then on any buzzing above would be that of an enemy. You had to grow used to that sooner rather than later.

More time elapsed, with no sign of “allies.” Granted, you had slowed your movement so that the fallschirmjager could scout slightly ahead in their newly upgraded disguises. The automatic riflemen maintained their arms, but the other squad members now carried equipment that would have been more familiar to their fathers, as Halmeggia still used the variations of the same bolt action rifles the Reich used in the Emrean War. They were also the rifles used during basic training, before the switch to the Kar1914 had been completed; perhaps the paratroopers had some nostalgia for the pieces. There was certainly relief that they were compatible with the same ammunition that you carried plenty of in the back of the truck.

One of the paratroopers, along the way, reported armored contact, and you got a bit excited; however, when the cautious steps were taken to safely approach, it turned out that the tank had thrown a track and had been abandoned. It was one of the ancient models, too; it was disregarded, and you moved along; some of the fuel was taken for the trucks, but since this old tank ran on petrol, it appeared, and not diesel, you couldn’t use it to replenish your Luftpanzers. Until you found more diesel fuel, the Luftpanzers merely had what they had in their tanks and in reserve cans.

A surprising amount of distance was covered without encountering any Revolutionaries beyond the ones from before; you wondered if you were too scary, if your tanks, considering the direction they were coming from, were thought more likely to be from the AUSC, maybe any RAGV troopers or militia you were coming close to chose to flee away or hide rather than investigate. They had received a rather thorough thrashing from the AUSC and the Reich, last you checked. What was more concerning, of course, is if there were actually nobody around and you weren’t just flitting through the lines, the AUSC would be able to pursue with no delay as soon as they saw how weak their enemies’ lines were. Or would they be more focused on fighting Wolfe, now, you wondered. So many questions whose answers could only be gained from sitting in one place and listening on any independent radio operators who took it upon themselves to reform the fourth estate. Perhaps, instead of continuing as you were now and waiting to encounter somebody, you would have to buckle down and search in one area for RAGV troopers who lacked the nerve to come to you, because if you went much further you’d overshoot the outskirts of Reichsport entirely…

“Captain.” One of the Fallschirmjagers came back; you hadn’t actually recalled when you saw him again, but you heard him and one of his fellows making small talk once while reporting back to you, and you realized that he was Alter; from back when you first made you unfortunate unplanned touchdown outside of the landing area. His name was a bit confusing now since he shared an exact two syllables with a new rival. You half expected Vang and Halzi now, but Halzi had sprained his leg coming down and wouldn’t have been able to volunteer, while you would have recognized Vang from his eyebrows. You promised yourself that you’d learn everybody’s named the second you stopped.

“What is it, soldier?” you replied finally to Alter. “Something interesting ahead?”

“Of a sort. People. They don’t look like Rags. They’re…I dunno. Weird lookin’. They look like minstrels, or mystics, or something. Like they’re not from around here, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen their sort somewhere…maybe two or three times?”

You’d sort of heard of what he was talking about. Pilgrims from the mountains, or people who took after them. They were more common out west you’d heard but there were few places that didn’t appreciate mystics and their knick knacks, even if they weren’t superstitious. Maybe you could buy a much needed good luck charm off of them, if you went by. “They don’t seem like they’re disguised or anything?”

“They’re not acting like they’re on a lookout for anybody.” Alter replied, “Just loitering. Going in an’ out of this little inn by a dirt path. Quaint place, real out of the way lookin'.”

A little inn, huh. Maybe it would make for a decent fixture in the land to hide out near, or even in. These vagrants might have seen RAGV movements as well, and you perhaps could ask them where they’d seen any. Then again, what if these people were spies or informants? Then you would be best just moving on until you did hit actual RAGV lines, ready to stand and resist. There was also the option of, since you had gone plenty far, deciding to vanish into the trees before you ran out of woods, and beginning a search for RAGV hiding from you in the area…or perhaps just hiding.

>Keep moving without stopping; you could only hope to be safe while with a large formation.
>What harm was there in a bunch of weird vagrants? Go up and question them.
>Best to hide out in the woods and avoid drawing attention. You could have a long time to wait after all.
>Move up and claim the inn as a new command post. You were an officer of the RAGV now, after all, and heavily armed. Who would oppose your decision?
>Other?

>>3225429
>>What harm was there in a bunch of weird vagrants? Go up and question them.
I'd question them first then decide later whether to commandeer the inn or hide in the woods.

>>3225429
>What harm was there in a bunch of weird vagrants? Go up and question them.

We were looking for a place to lay low. Even for a little while.

>>3225429
>What harm was there in a bunch of weird vagrants? Go up and question them.

>>3225429
>>Best to hide out in the woods and avoid drawing attention. You could have a long time to wait after all.
I think we should go set up a comfy forest camp and take some time to sleep and relax while we wait to be contacted.

>>3225429
>>Best to hide out in the woods and avoid drawing attention. You could have a long time to wait after all.

Late tonight as usual it seems. There should be no rest for the weary or they do nothing.

>>3225447
>>3225472
>>3225588
Go talk with them; see if they or this place is trouble.

>>3227649
>>3227790
The only people we need to get acquainted with are the trees.

Looks like it's time to chat. Writing.

What possible harm was there in a bunch of weird vagrants? “We’ll all go check it out then.” You told Alter. “Go back and tell the rest of everybody, too.” You were trying to not have any unnecessary transmissions, after all. Alter saluted, and went on his way as you kept on course to follow in the steps of the paratroopers who had gone ahead.

The “Inn” was a sort that was barely larger than a typical house, if a big one. The owner must have lived up in the attic, with guest rooms all on the upper floor and various amenities on the first. A beat up old wooden place, the lights were on inside, and a couple of the strange vagrants loitered outside; they didn’t seem to realize what state this country was in, or didn’t care. One of the pair, a short little man with scruffy brown hair who looked to be wearing a leather coat trimmed with goat wool and inlaid with decorative stitching of colored thread, was looking up to watch your vehicles come in, having clearly heard them well before. He got up from his squat and headed inside, leaving his companion outside. This other fellow waiting outside was dressed quite differently, in long, loose robes decorated with the same sort of patterns as the guy who had left, which clashed with massive leather boots and gloves. His face was wrapped in thin cloth strip all the way up his face, with a scarf wrapped about his head. They stood stiffly in place, their arms at their sides, seeming not to regard you and your group in any way. Even from a distance, you could tell he was a brick shithouse of a man; from how he measured up against the exterior of the inn, the stairs leading up to the landing and the door, he likely stood head and shoulders taller than you (and you were far from a short guy) while still looking like he would have at least one and a half times your weight in muscle from how broad he was.

“Stop out here,” you told your driver over the intercom, and you held up your hand to signal the rest of the column to do the same. Once everybody was through moving, you carefully slid down the side of the Luftpanzer; not as manly as leaping out of the hatch, but you had cooled on doing that any more while you were out. The first thing you did was walk right up to the huge man to see if he was a talkative sort; as you came closer, he hardly seemed to notice.

“Hey, big dude,” you said as you stepped up and looked…up. He was even bigger close up.

The man didn’t respond, or even acknowledge that you were there.

“Ahem. Excuse me.” He pretended to not notice you, so you pretended to not notice that. “I’m a commander with the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia. We’re a bit of a big deal, I’m told. I wanted to ask you people a few questions.”

Nothing.

“Hey, fella,” you raised a hand, “Is anybody home?” you raised a closed hand to his forehead and knocked as though on a door. Faster than you could follow, a heavy gloved hand as big as your head snapped up and grabbed your forearm, the man’s eyes snapping down to meet your own; that look was certainly not a friendly one. “Ah,” you laughed shortly, “Heh heh. You’ve, uh,” you tried to shake your arm loose; no chance on that. “You’ve got a strong grip, huh?”

“Schlomn ta stouf!” the same man from earlier that had went in, came back out, shouting something in a language you didn’t recognize. The huge man let go of your arm and let his own fall to the side. “Vitelia man. I am sorry, he is from far place.” This guy’s Imperial was broken and stiff; though, Alter had indicated that there had been more than two people, so…

“It’s fine.” You had to shake your arm a bit, still. That was a strong grip. “So, there’s more of you here, right? I just want to ask a few questions.”

“Questions? Alkes had questions for you Vitelia Man. Or is it Halmeggia man?” The short man babbled back.

“Greater Vitelia is both. And that’s fine.” You shrugged. “We can ask each other questions. Are you Alkes?”

“No. I Isos.”

“So what’s your name, then, big guy?” you turned and addressed the huge man, who still stood motionless.

“Name is own. Promised to silence.” Isos answered for him. You wondered if he mispronounced his own name.

“Uh.” You took a moment to process that. “Okay then. I guess I’ll go talk to Alkes? Can I bring my friends?”

“Can bring, if no trouble. You Vitelia, we have deal.”

“We have deal indeed..?” you squinted at him. “…I guess I’ll ask Alkes about that.”

“No. Alkes ask you.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

After it was agreed that you were coming in and doing whatever with Alkes, whoever that was, you went back, got every single one of your paratroopers, armed with the Kar1914s and automatic rifles instead of the new old RAGV weapons, and tromped past Isos into the inn. Neither he nor the huge man staring into the air objected to your heavy armament.

Inside, there were four more people, all as oddly dressed as Isos had been; which was to say, they weren’t too weird, but there was enough different about them to make one wonder where they came from, though the quantity of mossheads made that no longer a mystery. A fire crackled and spat in the fireplace; it was only a little one, so there wouldn’t have been much smoke, but it made you frown nevertheless; an open flame on a battlefield was a luxury and not anything to be frivolous with.

“So which one of you is Alkes?” you asked the room, “We’ve got a bit of a conversation to have, it seems.” You swept your gaze across the room; a trio of men hanging out in one corner- or was it one man and one very boyish woman? They all dressed identically and looked almost as similar, save for the softer features of the questionable one. Siblings, presumably, and all green hued on the head. A green haired woman with heavily shadowed eyes whose hair was pulled back from her face by a large barrette atop her head, the rest of it cascading down to the middle of her back and the sides of her head, with a veil over her mouth, sitting by the fire. There was one other man with brown hair and a scruffy shadow of a beard instead of strange mountain man features sitting on the other side of the place. The last was the one who stood from his place and took a pair of steps before bowing his head a little; he wore slim fitted boots and trousers, with a beaten shawl covering his upper half.

“I am Alkes, sir Revolutionary.” Oh good, this one could speak Imperial much better. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything you said being misheard; a relief. “We were expecting you.”

“You were?” you said back. “I wasn’t informed.”

“You would not have been.” Alkes shook his arms loose from under his shawl, and it parted for a moment to reveal a gaudily decorated pink shirt before sweeping closed again. “We made an agreement with one of your officers. We wanted to be helped, and they said to stay in place, to wait for another group of theirs to be sent here. And so you have come.” He barked a short laugh, and tilted his head to the side. “Or, perhaps this task was given to you without your knowledge, and you were those who arrived here first. If so, I do not intend to hold you to a deal you would refuse.”

“I don’t suppose there was anything offered in exchange for this favor…” you didn’t really want to do anything to benefit the Revolution, if possible.
“Information, if you like. We have a tendency to hear things. We told those who came around before a few things, and they appeared pleased.” Alkes looked back to the long haired veiled woman by the fire, briefly. “Alternatively, if that does not satisfy you, we can offer other compensation. You and your men may lie with Miriam as you please. She is a young woman, and fair.”

You gave this Miriam a second look; she was pretty good looking, probably, from how her cloak sat on her, and she seemed like she’d have a cute face under the veil from how large and pretty her hazel eyes were. More importantly, though, her eyes closed partways and looked down when this subject was brought up. “She doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing that.” You noted darkly.

“She will accept, if you demand it. It is for the sake of our company, after all.” Alkes said like he didn’t care either way.

“…Say we take up this deal,” you weighed the situation, unsure what to make of these weirdos. “What are we doing when you say you wanted to be helped?”

“Nothing, ideally. What an excellent deal, hm?” Alkes shook his head, “That would be for the best, but no. We would like to stay with you, should you stay near here. We want to have a safe place to range from, in case we encounter anybody unpleasant. We would rather not be chased about or cornered, you understand. We only require this for…a few days, about.”

You didn’t really like what that implied. “Who in the world would be coming after you?”

Alkes shrugged. “This country has gone to hell. Yet we have errands to run here. They would be nothing you would be afraid of; perhaps militia who wish to harass us. What could you be afraid of? Isos informed me that you have tanks. So will we help one another?”

There seemed little left to discuss; Alkes laid his hand out to you expectantly.

>Fine, that’s a fair trade. We were intending on taking over this inn as a base, anyways. Though it seems like the innkeeper’s away.
>We’ll take care of you, I suppose. But we weren’t intending on staying here; we were to go out into the woods.
>I’m gonna have to decline. You people are too weird and suspicious. Maybe ask the next people who come by here.
>Other?
If you have any questions of them you may ask those as well, but Alkes will probably not answer if you don’t agree to take him and his people under your protection.

>>3228655
>>Fine, that’s a fair trade. We were intending on taking over this inn as a base, anyways. Though it seems like the innkeeper’s away.
Tell them we ourselves are only staying for a while though.

>>3228655
Most likely
>Fine, that’s a fair trade. We were intending on taking over this inn as a base, anyways. Though it seems like the innkeeper’s away.

But first questions:
>Other?
In the unlikely event we do get in a fight, you expect us to do all the heavy lifting or are you going to help against the threat?

Our orders are to hold position for a time, we may get new orders at any moment and have to move on, that still okay with you?

>>3228655
>>I’m gonna have to decline. You people are too weird and suspicious. Maybe ask the next people who come by here.
As interesting as these folks are, I don't think it's the best idea for a group like ours that's hiding behind enemy lines trying to remain unnoticed to hang out with some vagabonds who quite readily admit to trading in information. Especially them being experienced travelers, if they stick around us a while they're bound to notice that our men don't quite seem as Halmeggian or Vitelian as the other revolutionaries seem to be, and they'd probably notice those two weird golden eyed people hanging around us who fit in even less. And once they notice these discrepancies they're bound to share the information with someone while out on one of their "errands" and then it's only a matter of time before we have the entire RAGV sweeping down on us. Not to mention that staying at this inn is just begging for unwanted visitors. Better for us to avoid staying around anyone for long and go get lost in the trees.

>>3228655
>We’ll take care of you, I suppose. But we weren’t intending on staying here; we were to go out into the woods.

Alright then.

>>3228716
>>3228740
Commandeer the inn; pls help if shit hits fan.

>>3228777
Maintain opsec, tell mountain gremlins that you'll decline their offer.

>>3228861
Into the woods.

I was...sort of expecting there'd be more questions. But that's fine. I'll insert a few that might be helpful, since that's basically what these people are offering you, otherwise they're sort of squatting with you for free.

Unless you wanted to make the girl part of the deal I guess

This may have been dangerous. These people admitted a bit too readily to trading in information; whether or not they considered that innocuous, that meant that your information was also on the market. The more time they spent with you, the more likely they’d realize that your people weren’t as Halmeggian or Vitelian as you purported, and certainly far less so than one would expect revolutionaries to be, and more importantly, there was the possibility that they might notice golden eyes behind sunglasses. The Prince and Princess’s disguises were decent, but anybody staying around them for a good period of time might suspect from their hair color and complexion and general build, and if they managed to catch a glimpse of their eyes, it would be all over. All it would take was one leak from them to the wrong people for all hell to come down on your oh so hidden position.

Yet. Yet. There was the possible boon. Would it be worth it…you didn’t really know, but when hiding, you knew that the best resource to have was information on what was around. These people weren’t asking for much; surely by ingratiating yourself to them by protecting them, you could earn the small favor of them not telling anybody about you? Part of you also really wanted to stay in that inn rather than camping outside; even though it was a fixture in the landscape, it was in the middle of the woods…

“Fine, that’s a fair trade.” You nodded to Alkes. “We protect you, you do…whatever, for us. We were intending on taking over this inn as a base anyways. Although, we’re not staying all that long.”

“That’s fine.” Alkes said brightly, “We aren’t either.”

“I’ve got a couple other questions, too,” you held a hand up, and made a show of looking around. “It seems the innkeeper’s away?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I see.” One less loose end, at least. “So in the unlikely event we do get into a fight, do you expect us to do all the heavy lifting, or are you going to help us with keeping your asses out of the fire?”

Alkes snickered, held himself like he was struggling to not laugh harder, as the trio on the other end of the room across from the fireplace looked at one another cluelessly. “Yes, we will take out our hidden tanks and machine guns, and take to the field, as we are secretly Yaegir journeymen. Please, be serious. We are making this deal exactly so that we do not need to defend ourselves. Is that not alright?”

“I’m just saying it might happen and we’ll need all the help we can get.” You pointed a thumb backwards and out, “That big guy out there seems like he’d be pretty helpful. Not saying I’d fling the girl in-”

“Girls.” Alkes corrected.

“Sure.” You shrugged, and looked back over at the androgynous looking sibling of the trio. Eh, you believed it. “I’m just saying that would be really damn helpful.”

“Sorry, but none of us are soldiers. The man you refer to outside is not a soldier either; he knows as little about operating a firearm as any of us.”

“Hrm.”

“If that is not satisfactory, then our offer from before still stands.” Alkes said lightly, gesturing ever so slightly towards the woman by the fire.

“We’ll see.” You brushed him off again; it wasn’t that you had any issue with prostitutes; you’d certainly had a strange way of interacting with them if that was the case, but you were plenty wary of those being made to do it against their will. Whether that was the case or not here wasn’t certain yet. Maybe you’d ask the men about it. “Hey, Corporal,” you addressed the fire team leader, “Clear out this place. Just in case.” The paratrooper nodded, and began leading his men through the inn while you spoke further with Alkes. “First off, I guess. You didn’t happen to hear where our comrades were heading, did you? Things have been pretty messed up, I don’t know where’s an assembly point or not.”

“The last Revolutionaries we spoke to told us something of the sort, before saying they’d send help for us.” Alkes told you, “There are those assigned to delaying actions, and those who are drawing further east to take up prepared defensive positions, trading space for time, it seems. I was not informed of who or where, but I believe if you searched about enough, you would find plenty of the former. They are, after all, meant to hold back and buy time. We managed to share some information with them, if you would like to hear it as well?”

“I think I would.” Your curiosity was piqued, both in character for your role as Commander Strazzo and your own interest.

“Wonderful. You know of Reichsport, surely.”

“I do. I have heard they are not very fond of the Revolution, either.”

“Such was the case. Yet, while we have been here, we have been around the city. Not stayed in, you understand, for good reasons, but you see, while the denizens of Reichsport hold no favor for your Revolution, they respect the Aristocracy even less. The business holders of the port are concerned that their assets will be seized, is common word on the street. A fair few stand to lose, and not only that, quite a few who came from the city took up arms for your cause, as you likely well know…I wonder, if many such people were to go back and agitate for the direction they believe the city’s currently independent authorities should head, would that affect their decisions in the future?”

“You seem to know a fair bit about Reichsport. Why not hide there instead of here?” you asked next.

“Various reasons. Mostly that, in the countryside, people are more trusting, more open. Were we to all stay in the city, we may find it difficult to leave, perhaps. Out here, we maintain our much needed freedom to move about with minimal harassment.”

The reasoning seemed a bit fishy but you didn’t linger on it. “So you don’t mind me asking what you all are doing around here, do you? I’d think you’d want to leave this place, given what it’s going through. Not great traveling grounds, you know?”

Alkes shrugged slightly. “We are used to many different sorts of places. If you must know, we came here to meet with fellows from the east. The places we come from, they like to keep in contact with one another, and the only way acceptable is by courier. Things are delivered this way, too. So we must find them, and meet with them, as was arranged, in spite of all this.”

“They’ll meet with you here?”

“No, no. A few of us go out to find them. The twins and Isos, as well as the large man outside.”

“And you aren’t asking for escort?” you were getting a bit confused.

“That is not needed. We merely need a singular safe place, you see.”

“I…see.” Was there much use in complaining about how strange they seemed? “Just another thing. You keep trying to pimp out this lady to me-“

“I am doing no such thing.” Alkes sniffed defensively. He turned back to the woman by the fire. “Miriam, tell me. Have I said anything that you would not agree with?”

“Alkes has not spoken any words that I would not say.” Miriam said back, her voice smooth, flat. “I am no slave. I am an acolyte. Alkes has his experience, just as I have my youth and health, and I will help with such however I can. If you do not find me fair…”

“Hey, nobody said that you weren’t pretty,” you cut her off. Still, though.

“Have my answers to your questions been satisfactory, to excuse that we will not help you fight, should it come to such?” Alkes picked up the subject again. “Since, as you may have figured out, many who would be able will be absent for some time. I am an open book in return…and if that is not enough, then I am sure I have already stated what more can be given freely.”

>Just your rumormongering will be enough, so long as you don’t spread it around to people besides us.
>If the lady is offering, who am I to tell her what to do? We’re taking a risk by keeping you around; we’ll be taking all you can offer.
>Sorry, but we’ll have to change some aspects of our arrangement. (What changes?)
>I’ve got a few more questions (What?)
>Other?

>>3232332
>Just your rumormongering will be enough, so long as you don’t spread it around to people besides us.

>>3232332
>Just your rumormongering will be enough, so long as you don’t spread it around to people besides us.

Last thing we need is unwanted attention until we get our orders from Rev command.

>I’ve got a few more questions (What?)
How do you get around? Horse and buggy? Car?

Can you keep an ear out for how the Front is moving?

>>3232332
Seconding >>3232431

>>3232431
Supporting

>>3232332
>>I’ve got a few more questions (What?)
Ask if they know anything specifically about revolutionary positions or strength near the coast and what the quickest, most discreet route to the coast is from here.

>>3232997
I dont really want to telegraph our intentions that broadly, incase they decide to tell someone else about our interest of the coast.

I live, dead.

>>3232342
>>3232431
>>3232997
Begone green thot.
>>3234326
Also be careful about what is said to these people.

Writing, finally.

“Just your rumormongering will be enough.” You said hastily. This guy kept trying to sweeten the deal without being asked. “As long as you don’t spread anything around to people besides us, we’ll be just dandy.”

“That won’t be a problem, good sir,” Alkes put up his hands, a motion of appeasement. “But, not even to your comrades and superiors? How strange…”

“I want to tell my comrades and superiors information myself, thank you,” you made a show of Revolutionary arrogance, “They should rely on me for such needs. What will come of the Revolution if they depend on strangers for necessities instead of their own people? I’ll get my information, then cross reference and evaluate it before feeding it to my allies. Uncontrolled information spreading can be a huge detriment to operations.”

“Fair enough.” Alkes accepted your excuse.

“You’ve said you’ve gone into the city then?” you asked next, “How do you get in there? Having a sneaky way in might be helpful for us.” Really you were asking for a way to the coast, though asking for that baldly seemed unwise; why would you want to get to the coast, after all? You couldn’t come up with that particular excuse at the moment.

“You will have to ask the Twins for the exact way,” Alkes waved his hand towards the green heads on the other side of the room, who had been disregarding you after your initial entrance and muttering amongst themselves. “However, surely you know of the tunnels your Revolution had been using to hide supplies and men?”

“Of course.” You lied, though it wasn’t really something that surprised you. It wasn’t like the Revolutionaries had been keeping tanks just out and about.

“More than a few are empty, and few go down in these places. Very useful for moving about safely; the Revolution has been more confident on the surface, after all. Perhaps that has changed? Who can say yet? They are not all interconnected anyways, we found. One has to bounce from one to the next. In any case, convenient. You didn’t assume that we used those?”

“I assumed that we had hid them better.”

“You assumed wrong.”

“Yeah.” You feigned irritation. “Well. Anyways. How do you get around? Do you have a horse hidden around somewhere, or anything like that?”

“We walk on our feet, good sir.” Alkes swept his hands towards the floor, “The Mountains are an ill fit for any transportation save a mule. Even beyond there, feet may seem slower, but when one knows what sorts of paths one can take only on foot, you can go plenty fast. In addition,” Alkes smiled toothily, “We are not above hitchhiking. We depend plenty on hospitality, but we can go without if absolutely necessary. It’s simply greatly preferable to be helped.”

“Hitchhiking, huh.” You mused, and stole a glance over at Miriam again, who had turned her attention to the fire and a small pot heating on the coals. “Neat. So, I know you’ll be trying to meet up with your people, but you don’t mind telling us any further developments on the line if you hear of any? Or any lost allies we could try and get to reassemble here?” Or, to be more favorable to your scheme, someplace else entirely. “We’ll be trying to keep a strong point here, so anything you hear or see’ll be helpful.”

“Of course.” Alkes smiled at you again.

“Hm,” You turned and went out; you had to get all the vehicles situated, ideally hidden entirely from aerial observation. With the airfield in Aristocratic hands, you had to count on them having planes going up and around here; the skies would go from your ally to your enemy in an instant. Though, something about your company felt…off. Hopefully trusting them wouldn’t be a mistake…

-----

Once the shovels were broken out, a good two hours were devoted to digging concealed positions, including ones for the vehicles. It was hard work, and tense; sharp ears were kept out for any movement nearby, and when anybody thought they heard something, everything was paused until a scout team went out and confirmed what it was; thankfully, most of the time nothing was heading towards you. The one exception was a frightening ordeal when the scout team reported back that an AUSC armored car had strayed unusually far forward, within a fifteen minute walk of your position; when they were observing it, though, a hidden Revolutionary anti-tank position had knocked it out. You must have been quite lucky, you thought, to avoid similar such places; it was useful information to know nevertheless, and good of the AUSC to sacrifice themselves finding it out for you. Hopefully the loss would make the Aristocrats warier of proceeding.

Your efforts bore fruit, though, as fighting holes were dug with shovel and mattock for the Luftpanzers to rest in, their turrets peeking over the ground and otherwise effectively covered by camouflage tarps. The truck was moved out back of the inn and set up in its own makeshift tent; from above, nothing should have been amiss, or at least, the particular nature of the new terrain features would be unclear. It would have been best if the panzers had two-position holes in order to descend entirely below the ground level, but the men (and you) were exhausted as is; the ground had been stubborn, and your arms so sore you could barely lift them.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be with my wife right now,” You heard Alter grumble to another paratrooper across the way as he sagged against a wall. “Sweetest lady you’d ever met, and cooks a mean potato and sausage fry…”

“How’s she in the sack?” the other paratrooper asked.

“Mind your own business. But, phoo…”

You were busy going elsewhere, though. One luxury you had accepted as part of your position as commander was getting in one of those beds in the inn instead lying out on a couch or chair, or for the unlucky ones, rolling out a bedroll on the floor. The Prince and Princess were given separate rooms and each their own guards, who had been absent from the work earlier (you had Sergeant Scheider on princess duty; he had no objections). With six small rooms and two of those given over to the fellow guests visiting here, that left one for fallschirmjager use; well, none, because you were boarding one now. Owl 3 had made no demands for accommodation but you set her up in a room regardless; you checked on her, and she was awake, looking out the window. She turned and blinked at you, and when you admitted you didn’t have anything to tell her about, she nodded and went back to window gazing.

Schneider and the other man on guard duty were changed out to go on watch instead, with volunteers taking their places at the doors. That left you to go collapse face first into your bed, and not even think about anything. It wasn’t a great bed; its blanket was itchy looking and the pillows were more like beaten rugs, but tired as you were, it may as well have been a king’s. For now, Halmeggia drifted away, and your clouded mine cleared into days long past.

-----

Dolcherr was a steadfast companion in having a good head on his shoulders and common sense that he developed shockingly early in life, fortunately for you, but one matter that he was rarely helpful with until his later years was anything involving romance. Your teenaged life and his thus contrasted rather starkly. Douran Dolcherr was a rather doughy faced, lower end of plain, bespectacled and stout lad, and girls made about as much attempt to pursue him as he did them. You, meanwhile, were tall, broad shouldered, and vainly diligent in cultivating an attractive appearance specifically to chase down pretty members of the opposite sex.

Insufferable sixteen year old that you were, who thought his worst mistakes were behind him, you never failed to try and shove your latest trophy in your best friend’s face, and sometimes, tried to hook him up. Douran didn’t find your jabs at his lack of romantic interest to be very funny and ardently refused to participate in your matchmaking schemes, and it didn’t take long for talk, discussion, or anything to do with such things to stop occurring between the two of you. So when one of your girlfriends, one who’d endured you for quite a bit, broke up with you, you found yourself suddenly uncomfortably alone. Bartholomeu had become competition, and Grabb was, to put it shortly, quite spiteful of most women and thus not of particular help in such regards.

So you did the only thing you could think of doing, and sat on the edge of the street as twilight turned the town pink and orange, feeling sorry for yourself. You were alone now because she had figured out that you weren’t interesting anymore; she was smart and adventurous, and the very qualities you had admired had made her drift further and further away. All you could think to do, as winter bit at your face, was wonder if you could ever measure up to a woman like that, if and when you got a second chance at winning one.

The last person you had expected to step beside you and rudely demand your attention in these moments of solace had been Linda Falkenstein.

“Hey.” She said, her voice scratchy in the way it was when she tried to make her voice sound less like a mouse talking through its nose, “Did you seriously throw your jacket down the street?” She had said piece of clothing under her arm, “Do you want to catch a cold?”

Linda was twelve years old then, and hadn’t yet reached the growth spurt that accompanied puberty. Her hair was barely long enough to tickle her neck, and with the way she dressed it wasn’t uncommon for people to mistake her for a boy, if a feminine one. You’d watched her grow up since she was less than half the age she was now, and her attitude had taken a major shift once her age had breached two digits, from that of an unquestioning, admiring follower to somebody who seemed to try to find every opportunity to be critical of you and your actions, and not in a helpful way like Dolcherr.

Suffice it to say, she wasn’t really who you wanted to see right now.

“What do you want,” you said gruffly.

“You’re out late. Papa was wondering when you’d be back for dinner.”

Your family had moved away a few years ago. You visited them sometimes, but you had preferred to take up apprenticeship here, and not leave your friends, or Herr Falkenstein, so you lived in an apartment that the great pilot leased out for you, often eating at his house. Of course, whenever you stayed out late, as you often did these days…

“He started wondering just now? Today?” you asked.

Linda made a frustrated grunt and puffed her cheeks at you. “Come home already! Who cares about that bitch. She was stupid anyways, I’ll bet.”

“Nah. I just wasn’t good enough.” You sighed.

“You? Not good enough?” Linda said, incredulously, “What kinda standards are those? You’re…you.”

“And I’m not good enough.”

“No.” Linda spat, “I wanna know who the hell she thinks she is. She sounds ridiculous. She’s a bitch. Come on, call her a bitch, we both know she was!”

You rolled your eyes and got up to leave.

“Hey!” Linda snapped at you. She jumped for your arm, but you had gone too quickly, and she fell forwards and face planted into the sidewalk. “Uff!”

“Linda!” you doubled back and helped her back up. “Are you alright?”

Linda was grinning, even though her nose was bloody and her face was dirty. “Y’see, Rein? You’re a nice guy. You’re cool, and strong, and everything that…everything that any girl who’s not stupid should want. Someday you’ll stop going out with dumb broads and hook up with somebody you deserve.”

“If you say so,” you sighed as you brushed the dust off of Linda’s jacket.

“I know so.” Linda insisted.

“Really. Alright then, smarty pants, who’s it gonna be then?” you challenged, “What sort of girl would stand sticking around with a dope like me for forever?”

Linda stared, then looked down, bit her lip, then looked off to the side, putting her hands in her pockets and scratching her heel against her other ankle; something she did when she was put on the spot.

“I thought so.”

“No, it’s…” Linda swallowed hard, “…Me. I would. I’ll be that girl a guy like you deserves.”

You stared down at this twelve year old girl. “…Hah.” You cracked up, “Heh.”

“Don’t laugh, you jerk!” Linda suddenly shouted at you, “I’m serious!”

“I’ll go home, Linda,” you patted her on the head as you saw tears well up in her eyes, “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“You retard!” Linda bawled, wrenching her eyes shut, as she wound up and kicked the point of her toe right into your crotch. “I hate you!” She ran off sobbing, leaving you to nurse your battered balls on the street.

Crap, you thought as you got up, groaning. This’ll really piss off Herr Falkenstein…

-----

Linda’s temperament was hot and variable; that day hadn’t ruined your friendship, though a line had been crossed that you could no longer ignore; she didn’t back down at all, either. When you returned from the academy, when you came back from your short stint at flight school, then basic training, advancing training, and glider training with the fallschirmjager, Linda had upped the ante to try and impress you. She wore short skirts around you that you knew she’d never wear normally, her neckline dropped as she matured and had things to show there, she gave various unprompted gifts and favors to try and pique your interest, though she never presented it as such; it was just something you knew, that one figured out from messing with girls as much as you did.

Yet you never went after Linda. Four years your junior, when she struck sixteen, she actually dropped a very clear hint that she wanted to go out, but she had expected you to make the move, you supposed. Maybe that incident from four years ago still haunted her.

At the time, tensions with Fealinn were reaching a boiling point. A referendum had apparently been held in Fealinn concerning rejoining the Reich as a protectorate, and the populace had answered that they would approve of this measure, though the government claimed it fraudulent. The Reich’s authorities were running out of patience for recounts, and news of riots and protests in Fealinn reached the Reich with reports of arrests and shootings of Czeissan citizenry. You’d been given the orders ahead of time to move to your unit, northwards, right in the middle of your leave back with the Falkensteins.

Mr. and Mrs. Falkenstein had gone out on an errand, and they had agreed to say farewell at the train station, leaving you and Linda back at their home. You didn’t actually have to leave for some time, but you were getting packed early anyways; a habit you learned in boot. Have everything early, or else the drillmaster would shout at you and give you extra PT.

While you had failed to become a pilot and instead became a glider trooper, Linda had been making stunning developments. At sixteen she had already completed flight lessons; she was technically too young to hold a license, but despite that Alphonse “Gold Vengeance” Falkenstein wasn’t quite as legendary as he would become, nobody would refuse a request from him still. You had seen her fly in a stunt show when you’d come back; when you genuinely informed her how amazing she was at flying, you hadn’t ever seen her so pleased.

Now, though, as you were trying to close your suitcase in vain, you choice of a small size screwing you over as you tried to force it shut, Linda wore a morose, and uncertain look. She had grown womanly indeed; her bosom and hips had grown, even though her face was still round and cute; she had gone through several growth spurts, and her head reached your chin. She wore a loose, white sleeveless buttoned blouse, and a flowing blue skirt, like she was dressed for a summer walk. The sort she had taken you on a couple of times while you were back. Her hair was short and loose as usual, black as night, and barely growing past her chin; the tufts at the sides of her head were tied into little pigtails.

“So. You’re going to war, then.” She repeated for the third time that morning, but this time followed it with, “Do you have to?”

“If the Fealinnese refuse the ultimatum, it seems that way.” You tried again to close the suitcase, with no avail.

“Rein. Don’t play stupid, they won’t give up just because we told them to.” Linda said, peevish. “People outside the Reich hate us. They’ll definitely fight.”

“Optimism never hurt anybody,” you turned and smiled at her. Linda turned scarlet, and turned her head, biting her lip. “If it’s war, then I’ve got to fight. It’s how the military works. Can’t just say no because I don’t feel like it.”

“…Yes, you can.” Linda said slowly. “You can say no. You, Douran, Roland, Isaac, Papa can just say the right things and have you all safe, nowhere near any fighting.”

“Linda, come on.” You shook your head at her, “None of us joined up to sit safely at an airbase and count boxes. We’re fighting, for the Reich, for the Kaiser. For our future, the hopes and dreams of the Reich that were lost, and all that.” You turned back to your case and took a few things out; maybe laying things differently would change your fortunes. “Have some faith in us, Linda. I’d say after the wringer we were put through, we’re pretty goddamn tough.” You turned your head around and snickered, “Hell, I was always tough as nails, if I wasn’t I wouldn’t be alive right now, probably.”

Linda stepped forward, and reached and finger out, running it down the scar on your face, slowly, a melancholy dull in her eyes. “But you’re not invincible, Rein. You can be hurt. You can be killed.”

“Then I’ll be killed,” you shrugged. “But it sure won’t be because I wanted to be.” You said this as you repacked, then tried to close the case again. “Oof. Hey, can you help me with this?”

Linda said nothing for a moment, then, “Actually…I want you to take something else. Can you come to my room?”

“Something else?” you groaned, “Linda, please, that thing’s full to bursting anyways, I bet I couldn’t fit a grain of rice in there, let alone whatever you’ve got-“ You cut yourself off as you stepped into the room ahead of Linda, and froze. On her bed, laid out, were a pair of black panties, with a white ribbon decoration around the waist line. “…Linda.”

“Rein.” Linda said in that firm tone you knew well, that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You sighed, and went up to pick the pair of underwear. As you did, you couldn’t help but notice that they were still warm…

“Uh,” you grunted stupidly as you turned back around, only for Linda to tackle you onto her bed. Her lips met yours, and you were so surprised you did nothing as she tugged herself into you. As she parted her mouth from yours with a gasp, you managed to spit out, “Linda, what-“

“Rein, I love you,” she breathed, as she sat up, straddling you, and began to unbutton her blouse. “I’m…I’m so scared that you won’t come back, even with what you say. But I’m even more scared that you’ll leave and never come back, without us ever having…having shared this. I don’t mind that you’ve been messing around, I never expected you to save yourself for me, but I’ve saved myself for you…” She nervously shook her blouse off of her shoulders, then her bra, and took a shaking hand to touch your hand to her breast. “I’m already sick of waiting, Rein. I don’t want that wait to be forever.”

Your mind was chaos. This was Linda, the scruffy, boyish little girl who you’d known since she was a child. This was also Linda, whose skin was soft, whose breath was hot, and whose weight was causing your groin to catch fire. One part of you was ravenous; the other was ashamed for it, but should it be? What was so different about Linda? Was-

“Rein,” Linda’s cheeks reddened and her voice cracked with desperation, “Please.”

>Take her gently.
>Take her roughly.
>Flee.
One may specify on an action, but there is no "other." Linda refused to be negotiated with.

>>3235193
Tough choice but
>>Flee.

>>3235193
>>Flee

>>3235193
>Flee.

She deserves better. Someone who can measure up to her now. We just aren't good enough.

>>3235193
>>Flee.
I am so not looking forward to the homecoming already.

>>3235193
What a shitshow

>Take her gently.

>>3235193
>Flee.
Reiny is pure. He is for his fig plantation and nobody else

>>3235526
He's a philanderer who fucks prostitutes when he can't pick up bar floozies anon.

>>3235536
Figs can bloom, even on the battlefield

>>3235539
Fair enough. Poor girl. She's infatuated with a dude controlled by a pristine 'No way fag' playerbase. Never stood a chance

>>3235546
Welcome to Panzer Commander™. Would you like to:
>A. Command Panzer™.
>B. Muh dick.

>>A.
Super unexpected, eh?

>>3235546
>>3235575
I mean from this quest I have the feeling most people would be totally fine if Reinhold didn't have a waifu at the end of this (though honestly I wouldn't really mind either)

>>3235575
Panzer Commander has never been about the tanks lets be honest.

>>3235605
Even then I'm pretty sure most of the player base is into this for the tanks and tacticool stuff rather than the grills.

>>3235608
I don't doubt it. I just think it's funny for what it is in spite of that. Specially Vanilla PCQ

>>3235610
Honestly I wonder if for vanilla PCQ if Richter wasn't engaged from the beginning whether he'd even have a waifu after all these years and threads. Probably not.

>>3235615
iirc I think there was flirting with Hilda and Signy a little before the 'You're engaged' hammer came down.

You hear that tanq! More tanks and less of that gay icky girl shit!

>>3235639
But Anon, if tanq does that how will we ever get Sgt. Schneider laid?

>>3235653
Shit good point. We also wouldn't have obligatory best girl Owl 3 (Not for romance)

>>3235663
Oh I agree anon. I like Winnifred more than any of the girls in vanilla PCQ anyway.

File: luftpanzer_nowayfag.png (205 KB, 500x359)

205 KB PNG

Well then.

>>3235524
Hug Fug

>>3235200
>>3235217
>>3235247
>>3235526
No way fag

Writing, then.

>>3235608
>Even then I'm pretty sure most of the player base is into this for the tanks and tacticool stuff rather than the grills.

I suppose this is something I should address.

I have it on good authority that the combat is abjectly the worst aspect of the quest, and I'm inclined to agree. However, the battles are absolutely not the point. They are a means, not the end goal. I am of the humble opinion that with no character development, no politics, no relationships, no camaraderie or chit chat, then any combat is just metal clanging purposelessly off of other metal and violence for its own sake. For that reason I absolutely cannot fathom why anybody would follow this quest for the materiel and usage of it alone, especially since there is far from a laser focus on such.

But I digress. I'm happy if people are getting enjoyment from this, and I am in no place to be critical of what aspects they like of the quest; I'm glad enough if they're here and really don't want anything except for people to be entertained by my scribblings and keyboard mashings unto a Malaysian Public Flogging MMORPG.

>>3235751
Hey, I like the waifus and the tonks equally. I will only be satisfied if we stick our dick in the generous rear on the Von Blum m/32 though. Yes that means Maddy

>>3235751
Perfect pic

>>3235751
Oh when I mean people are interested in the tanks I don't mean the actual combat;rather I guess people like the setting and the role playing aspect of it on the military side? Like going around Sosaldt trying to cobble together our army to take Todesfelsen was pretty cool even if it dragged a bit.

>>3235751
Personally I love the world building and politics, as well as characters. Planning for missions is a lot of fun, but the combat itself I kind of sit back and watch. Been here since our train took on some unplanned passangers, but having drastically changed time zones the past half year has made it hard to participate. I will say your quest has gotten me through some pretty crummy days tanq.

…No, you couldn’t. Well, you could, the proper parts were at full attention, but…when you looked in Linda’s eyes, you still saw the little girl from two years ago, from four years ago, from even further in the past. You took her hand off of her breast, put it on her shoulder, and pushed her roughly aside.

“Rein..?” Linda’s voice was thin, surprised. “What..? What’s wrong? Aren’t I…aren’t I special to you? Aren’t we…”

You said nothing, and just went out of the door to her room.

“Reinhold, but, I,” Linda sobbed, “I…but…no…”

You rushed to your room and vigorously slammed the suitcase shut before hefting it up and away; you didn’t stop moving until you were right before the front door. From upstairs, you heard a sound that made you pause for a moment.

“AUUUUUGGHH!” you heard Linda scream from upstairs, followed by a loud smash and tinkle of something breakable and valuable being hurled against a wall, then loud, wretched gasping and weeping. Had you…hurt Linda? In spite of how much you wanted to protect her?

You badly wanted to go back up and console her, but nothing was going to stop you now from stepping out that door and closing it behind you.

-----

A couple of hours later, you staggered onto the train station platform, where the Falkensteins were waiting; Linda was noticeably absent.

“Reinhold!” Frau Falkenstein noticed you first, with a shocked gawk, “Are you drunk?”

“A lil’.” You burped, leaning against a brick wall, before taking a few steps and leaning your hand on the edge of an iron bench. That was a pretty big lie; you could barely see straight, you had downed so much liquor.

Alphonse Falkenstein’s penetrating gaze alighted upon you. Even in your stupor, the look he was giving pierced straight to the heart. “Where is Linda?” he asked, “I thought you were coming here together.”

“Uuuuuhhhmm.” You gawped like a fish, absentminded. “We didn’. She’s home, I think.”

“…I don’t know what the hell you were thinking showing up like this, Reinhold.” Herr Falkenstein’s scolding cut to the quick of your spirit. “I don’t suppose I have to say that I’m disappointed in you.”

A hammer blow right to your gut. “Ohhhhh…oh…damn…” you slurred, your jaw slack. “…I’m sorry, Herr Falkenstein.”

“Dear!” Frau Falkenstein sharply reprimanded her husband, “Don’t say that to him just before he leaves!”

“Hm.” Falkenstein didn’t regard his wife’s feelings on this particular matter. “This isn’t like you, Reinhold Roth-Vogel. I won’t ask, but you are an adult. You should have known better. I sincerely wish you luck in the days to come, Reinhold.” He began to move past you without even a shake of the hand, “I couldn’t bear it if this was the last meeting we had.”

You were paralyzed, even as Mrs. Falkenstein apologized, embraced you, and wished you well on your way before calling after her husband. Stumbling thoughtlessly into the train and bumbling about until you were escorted to your seat was all you could do; even thought was impossible. As the loopy haze of alcohol faded away after the train had departed, your spirits sank deeper and deeper. After hearing Linda cry like that, you couldn’t help but get wasted; you didn’t want to feel the weight of that offense anymore, but now that there was no more beer, you couldn’t do anything but try not to think about it as you buried your chin in your hands and stared at the back of the next seat ahead.

“Jude above, Reinhold,” you muttered to yourself, “You’re a real fuckup.” Part of you said that in much ruder terms; the other merely asked what else you could have done, but that question wasn’t a reassuring one.

-----

After arriving at where your unit was assembling, there was no more time for moping; your focus was demanded in total for other matters. From there, it wasn’t long until war was declared, your first combat drop, your first skirmishes, and your first war. The Kaiser’s irresistible will was exerted upon Fealinn, and you were part of the mighty hammer that crushed it utterly. Not a word of what had happened between you and Linda was shared with friend nor comrade, even in the celebration following the Fealinnese capitulation. After a night of carousing, you returned home, to the house of the Falkensteins. Your previous transgression was forgotten as all were overjoyed that you had returned safely…though you didn’t see Linda.

“She’s shut herself in her room since you left,” Mrs. Falkenstein said with worry as you were all gathered around the fireplace in the living room. “I told her you were coming home, but she hasn’t come out…”

“What?” you choked, “But…it’s been almost three weeks!”

“She would take food and drink, and we know she went to the bathroom and showered, but otherwise…”

“We presumed that she was worried about you, but then, she should have come out here.” Alphonse Falkenstein rested back in his armchair and sighed. “Surely it is no secret to you that my daughter fancies you, Reinhold.”

“I’m…aware.” You said warily.

“You are your own man. Far be it from me to command you on whom you court, but no matter your choice, I would at least hope that your friendship with her remains intact.” Falkenstein leaned forward and put his hands together. “If you could draw her out of her room, therefore, it would be greatly appreciated. She has been missing training and instruction that she herself planned to attend…”
You remembered this conversation crystal clearly in this dream, but out of the corner of your eye…Dolcherr was there. You remembered that this had been a meeting solely between you and the Falkenstein family; Dolcherr hadn’t come over until the next day. So then what…?

>You’d see what you could do; go and knock on Linda’s door.
>There was no way you were going through that door; she wouldn’t let anybody through it. Climb in through the (second story) window.
>You would have to pass; Linda would get over this eventually. She always did. This couldn’t be forced, in your opinion.
>Other?

>>3235779
>>You would have to pass; Linda would get over this eventually. She always did. This couldn’t be forced, in your opinion.

Ahem

Fuck Linda!
And Fuck Women!

Treads are the only thing we need.

>>3235779
>>There was no way you were going through that door; she wouldn’t let anybody through it. Climb in through the (second story) window.

>>3235779
>There was no way you were going through that door; she wouldn’t let anybody through it. Climb in through the (second story) window.

Wait no guys come on.

Don't tell me breaking a girl's heart and being called a disappointing fuck up broke your will to never deal with romance!

We have to cut ties here and then later fuck over Wolfe with a good old 'No way fag'! Only then will we not ruin Reinhold's character!

You don't want to ruin his character do you guys!?

>>3235797
Anon I know you're trolling but just because people don't want to get into a relationship with her is a totally different thing from not dealing with the situation at all.

>>3235779
>There was no way you were going through that door; she wouldn’t let anybody through it. Climb in through the (second story) window

Let's just hope she doesn't have a gun.

Simply abandoning her would make things worse.

>>3235805
I'll have you know that I'm 200% serious.

I have it on good authority that not running away from girl problems will absolutely ruin Reinhold's character. In fact it's etched in a stone testament somewhere.

1. Reinhold's self esteem issues will nullify waifufagging. Always use this excuse and avoid everything.

2. Tanks are love, tanks are life.

We stumbled with Wolfe but I'm sure with enough determination we can make sure that bitch gets sent home early without any Reinhold action. Stay strong anons! Choose to run away!

>>3235779
I said it was going to be a shitshow, but this was somehow worse.

But you know what? I think I get it now. For most of this quest I said Reinhold was over exaggerating his whole 'not worth it' thing and should get over it. But after this? I get it.

He isn't worth it for Linda or really anyone. Oh I'm well aware that this was a self fulfilling prophecy with how the votes have always been, but I think this gives context for how he acts even if it happened in a weird, almost time loop way since this is a flashback.

Wolfe is going to dump his loser ass the moment she realizes how he is domestically and/or learns how he treated Linda.

>You would have to pass; Linda would get over this eventually. She always did. This couldn’t be forced, in your opinion.

Yes I realize this will make things worse between them, but the sooner she gets over him the sooner she can move on and be happy which is my main motivation at this point. Christ it's like Hilda all over again.

>>3235779
>>There was no way you were going through that door; she wouldn’t let anybody through it. Climb in through the (second story) window.

>>3235779
>Other?
If possible, talk the situation over with spooky Dolcherr. If not, just admire him against the backdrop of the Falkensteins' living room fireplace, because apparently we've become the gay

>>3235825
Could you

space out your posts

a bit more

they aren't getting my

attention well enough

also upvoted for epic snark and sarcasm

>>3235786
>>3235846
Run off. Again.

>>3235787
>>3235790
>>3235819
>>3235851
Go in the less used entrance, maybe she's into that.

>>3235908
You're not supposed to be here, are you..?

Heh heh.

Writing.

…You couldn’t actually answer yet. Rather, you knew the answer you had given, as well as the one that had been hanging on your mind as well at the time, but what you stared at, gobsmacked, was the thing that had most certainly not been there. Continuing the chain of things that never happened…you blinked at Dolcherr, and opened your mouth to speak.

“…Douran.” You said, mystified. “…What should I do?”

All of a sudden, all went dim, as though a giant hand had been closed over the sun, the lights, everything. Some invisible force pushed you up, so you were leaning against something instead of sitting.

…Where were you? This wasn’t…this wasn’t a memory, that was for sure. You’d remember this…whatever the hell it was. You looked around, pushing yourself forward. There was a sheer, cracked grey stone wall behind you that must have been what you were leaning against, a red glow from below shining up it; you couldn’t see the top of it as it vanished into blackness. You were knee deep in some hot, thick liquid, and things were brushing up against your legs. Your fallschirmjager uniform had been replaced by a luftpanzer crew uniform, your body was your own instead of the past one; the hole in your leg felt fresh again.

“What the hell is…” you asked nobody, as you waded through the pool; it stank of metal, sulphur, fire. A thing coiled around your leg, and started snaking up it; you snatched it in alarm and eyed it. It was a length of intestine, and it wrapped itself around your arm, winding up, around your shoulder…”Guh!” you tried to yank it away, but every time you pulled at it, the length tightened, even as you tore chunks of it away with your nails, bit at it, tasted blood and bile…more serpents made of entrails coiled about you, pulled at you, strangling you…
A dim light came from above, a crack, a seam, like somebody opening a very small hatch…

“Help!” you cried out reflexively upwards; you didn’t care who was there, or what it was, you needed to be out of here! “Please, somebody!”

There was no answer. When you gasped for breath, trying to rip a loop of guts from around your throat, you tore your gaze down, and you saw…Dolcherr, before you, in the dark and the red, bloody as he had been when he died.

“No!” You croaked, and you fell backwards, choking, stinking slime and blood rushing into your mouth as you thrashed about, trying to keep your head above…meanwhile, Douran stood above you, staring down, expressionless. You wrenched your eyes shut, leave, leave, terrible nightmare…

“…What are you doing down there, Reinhold?” you heard Dolcherr ask calmly. A hand gripped around yours, and pulled you upwards. “Open your eyes, if you will. It’s hard to know if you’re listening or if you’ve fallen asleep when you’re like that.”

You didn’t want to. Yet…you had to. You let your eyes crack open, expecting to see hell again-

It was gone. You were standing beside Dolcherr, who was clean and uninjured, in the middle of an outdoor café. Shadowy figures sat about, silently dining and having discussions under a cloudy morning, the white and grey above shining dimly though there seemed to be no sun anywhere. A quiet song was being sung by a familiar voice, in a language you didn’t understand, but you couldn’t see where it was coming from.

“Have a seat, if you will, Reinhold.” Dolcherr said, pushing out the chair beside you with his foot, while pulling out his own. You dumbly obeyed.

“Where are we?” you felt the need to ask.

“You must have had quite a night, to be so tired to ask that instead of knowing right off.” Dolcherr replied to you, “You’re in a dream.”

So matter of fact, so blasé about something that seemed so strange. It was Douran indeed.

“You’re dead.” You pointed out to Dolcherr.

“That doesn’t seem very relevant at the moment.”

“No, I mean,” you smacked yourself in the head, “You’re not, like, haunting me or anything like that, are you?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I could be convinced, right about now.”

“…No matter. Whether you think it is a ghost or a dream, I am here.” After pushing up his glasses, Dolcherr put his fingers together and leaned forward over the table, in the same posture he always had. “How have things gone?”

…You decided to not think about this, and took it for what it was. “I dunno, man.” You sighed, “After you bought it, we managed to get back to Talmeier and the battalion. Though I guess you would have known if I died, huh? Anyways.” You leaned back in the chair; despite the odd surroundings, some silent conversations were beginning to grow audible, and the noise brought a familiar comfort. It was like you and Douran were hanging out again. “The airfield was a no go; turned out the Revolutionaries bum rushed it and were all set up, so we had to call in the tanks to be dropped ADR.”

“Risky.”

“Yep.” You nodded, “We got real lucky. You know how all the tests said that there was only a one in four chance that a Luftpanzer would hit the ground and survive? We only lost two. Only one was a total loss. Pretty impressive, huh? Damn good pilots. Roland got real messed up after we set out with the tanks, but he’s alive. I managed to get him out of there, and he’ll be back home just fine. Made some friends, enemies too. I got shot, right here,” you pointed to your leg, though there was no wound there at the moment. “Sorry if I’m going fast, but there’s a lot to cover. So, we got to the palace, and the Royal Family, shit, they got wiped out. We got there lickety split, but it didn’t even matter. The King, the Queen, like five members, all just killed there in the basement. But we found the last two left. Crown Princess, and the Prince. You ought to have seen her, Douran. She’s a looker.”

“Are you all right, though, Reinhold?” Dolcherr asked. “The mission is all well and good, but after my life ended, I was more concerned about you.”

You shrugged. “I’m plenty alive, even though I’m confused as hell.”

“That much is obvious.” Douran said coolly, “But are you all right?”

You sagged in the chair, and sighed heavily. “…Man, I don’t know. I feel recently like I’ve just been tripping over myself all my life. Maybe it’s because I lost you, maybe I’ve just been messing up and was pretending like I wasn’t. The more I think about it the more I think it’s that second one.”

“Hm. Reinhold?” Dolcherr stood and beckoned to you, “Come and look at this.” You stood also, and followed him to a spot by a pair of shadowy people; he knelt down, and so did you, whereupon he seemed to slip his fingers under the tiled pavement, and pull it up like he was lifting a blanket, like the tiles were not such at all. He pointed to the space beneath, and you looked.

It was the red space, though the bottom seemed much closer. Within, in what was certainly a dark hole and not the pit full of guts, you saw a pale, meek man staring back up. He leaned heavily on one leg, a familiar scar adorned his face, and his face was one of drawn misery.

“What is that?” Dolcherr asked you.

“…What, that guy?” you looked at Dolcherr, then to the man down in the hole. “I guess it’s me, isn’t it.”

“Yes. And no.” Dolcherr said. “It is the past. Your past.”

A frown creased your face. “Okay. But it’s me?”

“It is. Yet. This is also you.” He pointed towards the “you” you. “And this is also you.” He put his hand to his chest, steadily.

“…I’m a dead guy?” you quipped like a smartass.

“Heh.” Dolcherr smiled slightly. “Not quite. Everybody you touch has their own idea of “you.” Think about it, Reinhold. How many people look at you and see the man in the dark hole?” You didn’t say anything, only looking back to where the pit was, but it was gone. “None of us are solely our past. None of us our merely what we are at present. We are also not just what others say we are.” Douran sighed and stood back up. “All I ask of you is to consider that when people look at you and see a good man, that they may be correct. You are quite remarkable when you are not busy making an enemy of yourself.”

“…Man, though.” You let out a huff, “I feel that once I stop talking to you, I’ll forget that awful quick. I could have sworn you’ve told me…God, I dunno how many times. Yeah, for sure I’ll just forget this, without you around to beat it into me.”

Dolcherr shook his head. “I do not believe so. Remember? You are here, and here.” Dolcherr put his hand on your shoulder, and another on his chest. “Now, where am I?”
You thought for a moment. “…Here,” you mirrored his movements, “And here.”

All of a sudden, you were looking at yourself, grinning back at you. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Your mirror image laughed heartily, and you raised a hand to you face, and took off a pair of spectacles- as you did, the man across from you became Dolcherr again. “This is a dream, Reinhold. You already knew all of this. You simply had to hear it from me. If you lose heart, know that we grew up together. I considered it an honor to call you my best friend, and you know it as well as I did in life. Draw up the me in you,” Dolcherr backed away again, and everything grew quieter again, slowly. “And recognize the you in others. The Reinhold I know is flawed, but honest. Timid, but fearless. He is many things good and bad, but all in all.” He poked you in the chest, and once more you stared at yourself. “He’s pretty god damn great, if I do say so myself. Man, I’m cool, yeah? Captain Reinhold Roth-Vogel, commander of the first Luftpanzer Company, the best armored unit that flies. And the only one, but that just means we’re so good we’ve got no competition!”

“…Huh.” You scratched your head.

“So. Do you feel all right now?”

>Yeah. I think I do.
>I think I’m pretty full of shit. But the me that’s full of shit seems a hell of a lot more fun anyways.
>Can I be alright if I’m tripping balls?
>Other?

>>3236022
>I feel that once I stop talking to you, I’ll forget that awful quick

Something something, players in a nutshell, something something.

>>3236022
>>Yeah. I think I do.

>>3236022
>Yeah. I think I do.

>>3236022
>>Yeah. I think I do.

>>3236022
>Yeah. I think I do.
RIP AND TEAR YOUR GUTS

>>3236045
>>3236051
>>3236052
>>3236063
Thanks Ghost Friend. Or maybe Memory Shadow self. Whatever.

Back to regularly scheduled programming.

>>3236022
Sorry if I'm sounding disillusioned with Reinhold tanq. I know that in spite of all the fuck ups on this specific aspect of his life he does some good things.

Just 'fuck me' you know? That last update irritated the hell out of me.

I for one like Panzer Commander, he shots revolutionaries and doesn’t afraid of anything.

>>3236022
>>Yeah. I think I do.

>>Other?
Is it time to give up the bottle aswell?

>>3236265
>Give up the booze
Now now let's not get hysterical.

It was a bit weird to look at yourself. Yet to say that you weren’t a bit motivated…

“Yeah.” You nodded to yourself. “I think I do. I feel all right now.”

“Great.” It was Dolcherr once more, and everything had faded into a clouded mist, with naught but the mysterious singing. “Take care of yourself, Reinhold.”

A snap. Then you were back in your memories. You were about to ask if you should stop drinking…but you couldn’t get too crazy just yet.
Mr. and Mrs. Falkenstein, their concern about their daughter, locked up in her room. The growing concern that, whether it was a screwup or not on your part, this was something you couldn’t just leave unfixed. You hadn’t let those pieces of shit two years ago screw with her, and you wouldn’t let yourself just prance away from this problem like you couldn’t do anything about it.

Maybe Dolcherr had a point after all, you thought as history took its course and you got up from your place.

“I’m thinking of something,” you reassured the Falkensteins, as you went out through the front door. That must have puzzled them greatly, but it was part of your plan. Linda probably wouldn’t open the door if you went over and knocked, you knew. She was either too unhappy to want to see anybody; or too explosively pissed off to do anything but shun your presence; so you had to take a page from her book and force the issue.
Linda had a tendency to keep her window open in the summer; she often complained about the overhead fan in her room not giving nearly enough air circulation, which meant that, if she was cooped up in her room this whole time, she had to be keeping the window open.

…However, Linda kept herself in shape, and knew a thing or two about defending herself. You really didn’t fancy catching anything in your face that would give you another scar. You considered what you’d do in that eventuality as you made your way around the house. Probably just curl into a ball and wait for it to be over; attempting to retreat, in the past, had only resulted in falling flat on your ass a whole story. Funny to tell to the guys. Not funny to repeat.

Your paratrooper training made the route a lot easier than it used to be; you surprised yourself with how quickly you found yourself heaving yourself over Linda’s windowsill, and peeking in.

“Linda?” you whispered in, just loudly enough to be heard over the ambience of the city. “Hello?” A stir from inside, from around the bed; barring some bizarre infiltrator, Linda was there. You hefted yourself further up and propelled yourself inside in one smooth movement; advanced training did wonders for upper body strength and proper use of it. “Hey, Linda,” you said again as you strolled about and faced the bed; Linda had cocooned herself in her blankets, and was facing away. “Are you asleep?”

Linda sat bolt upright; if she had been, she wasn’t anymore. “Rein?” she looked at you, and leapt out of her blankets to hug you; you hugged her back. Just like any other time you came back, but this time she was trying to pop you with how hard she had her arms around you. “…I was afraid I would never see you again.”

“I’m hurt. Did I seem that cursed?”

“No, it was…” Linda mover her chin down and muffled her mouth against your shoulder, “That that would have been the worst thing possible with…what happened. I feel like I oughta say I’m sorry, but…I’m not. I don’t blame you, doing what you did, but…it hurt me.” She let you go and sat beside you; her blankets still wrapped around her waist, but her undershirt hung loosely off of her besides that; her nose was red, and dripping; she was clearly more than a bit sick with that and her scratchier than usual voice. “I didn’t understand. I still don’t. But…I’m really relieved that you’re alive, and you’re back. I guess what I’m saying is…I can wait. I’ll be patient. But I just want to know…what you think.”

“What I think?”

“I know you mess around a lot.” Linda couldn’t help but be a bit bitter, “Douran won’t tell me, but Roland blabs his head off about everything. I don’t need it to be a lot. I’m fine with just…whatever you do to girls. Even if it’s just a night. You just mess around like you don’t care, and I’m not sayin’ you have to, but, it’s just,” Linda pulled her knees up to her chest and sulked. “I feel like I’m not even being given a chance. It pisses me off, but it makes me sad, too.” She didn’t look over. “You’ll give me a chance sometime, won’t you?”

“Sure I will.”

“When?” Linda immediately demanded.

>Right here. Right now. I’ll prove it, we’ll pick up right where we left off last time.
>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.
>I’ll come to you when the time is right. The time just isn’t now.
>Other?
Keep in mind that this is four years ago; plenty has happened since.

>>3237332
>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.

Surely she'll shake the notion by then. Or we'll be dead, there's still time.

>>3237332
>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.

>>3237332
>>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.

>>3237332
>>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.

>>3237332
>>Wait until you’re older. Let’s say, in...a few years.

Can some of you guys explain what you think the main problem between Reinhold and Linda is? Is it the age gap and Linda basically being Rein's sister, is it Rein's inferiority complex, is it the fact that we haven't really spent time time with Linda like we have with other girls so far and it doesn't feel right to leave them for what feels like a background character?

I just kinda want to get a feel how people feel about Reinhold and his romance life. I'm more of a decide whether or not to use WP on infantry kinda guy so I tend to stay out of these kind of votes.

>>3237772
>Is it the age gap and Linda basically being Rein's sister
Maybe a little

>is it Rein's inferiority complex
Mostly this or this is the excuse mostly used

>is it the fact that we haven't really spent time time with Linda like we have with other girls so far and it doesn't feel right to leave them for what feels like a background character?
Wolfe even getting in was incredibly divisive which I'm pretty sure involved samefagging on both sides. Ultimately I think most of the players want to avoid waifus entirely and use the excuse tanq provided with Reinhold's character.

>>3237772
To me it's mainly a case of thinking of her as a sister which he tries to justify by saying he's good enough for her.
>>3237783
Yeah I think most people realize it's a pretty shit excuse but don't really care.

>>3237772
I kinda enjoy torturing Reinhold, excoriating himself for his failures (both perceived and real) is fun to watch him act out. I'd be okay with him not being with any of the girls by the end partly because I don't believe any of them come close to understanding him, maybe Owl 3. Even as an Edelinafag.

Dolcherr does get him though which means he should be our waifu.

Besides, she's Al Falkensteins daughter! Reinhold just isn't good enough.

The day is new.

>>3237350
>>3237352
>>3237360
>>3237426
>>3237528
Patience, young lass!

Writing. Or rather, finishing writing, because I broke off doing it last night. Also it'll stop being flashback-o-clock.

>>3237772
Interesting questions and indeed ones I prefer to read answers from in comment and discussion before making anything new up.
>is it the fact that we haven't really spent time time with Linda like we have with other girls so far and it doesn't feel right to leave them for what feels like a background character?
Considering that these events took place four years ago and that the current relationship between Reinhold and Linda was established back in Thread 1? Nobody would really be leaving anybody. This is history.

>>3236092
Didn't get to this before, but it's fine m8. Also for >>3237783 I would have presumed it's the age gap. Sixteen is seen as mature in the Reich, but 20 on 16 is still...questionable. Not that a girl who was making moves at the tender age of twelve and being laughed off would likely consider such things to be a barrier.

>>3237924
Dolcherr is dead. Tulpa Dolcherr is not, though.

“Uh.” You were put right on the spot. “When you’re older. Let’s say, in…a few years.” That was enough time for her to cool on this, you thought. Or maybe you’d be shot dead or blown apart in some war by then. Either way, you wouldn’t be on the list anymore...Or, at the very least, were you to start something, it wouldn’t look like you were going cradle robbing. Linda looked mature enough but as a person of some repute her age was rather well known. That was before the issue of, whenever you looked at one another, even if she saw somebody she’d throw her clothes off for and demand to be taken, you still looked into her eyes and saw the little girl who tottered after you and your gang of vagabonds like she was one of the boys.

Those same green eyes glared at you, angry, frustrated, and questioning for answers you must have not been providing, questions she did not ask. “…Fine. I’ll hold you to that.” Linda wasn’t happy. At all. But she didn’t fight further. “You’d better not run off or die before that.”

So much for that plan, then. “So you’ll come out now, won’t you? Herr Falkenstein is worried about you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Also, you smell. I’m not going anywhere with a smelly girl.”

When you both came out that door it was to ask Herr Falkenstein for the medical kit both to bandage Linda’s split knuckles and your busted lip.

-----

Maybe she did cool off, or maybe she didn’t. In another two years, there was another war, this time over northern Felbach. That was where the first among your group of friends was taken away. Linda didn’t attack you like that one time ever again, though a year after Grabb’s death, when life had returned to how it had been before, she began to drop hints; to indicate that she was seeing that “few years” counter ticking down.

Perhaps you wanted everything to stay the same. It wasn’t that Linda wasn’t cute, talented, and the like, but she was too close, too eager, and too valuable. That had been your thoughts for years as you avoided her since, in spite of your friends’ efforts to amend that. Now, though…Dolcherr was dead, and Bartholomeu had been severely wounded. If you hadn’t been careful, it would have been just you and Linda left now, among your long standing circle. You wouldn’t be able to avoid her anymore; and there was no doubt that the times had come and gone. You would be made to answer for your promises, or once again run away. This time, though, you couldn’t do that again. Whatever the answer you chose, things were no longer such that you could give the same answers again.

You felt stiff as a board when you woke up, and a look out the window showed naught but a dense, dark grey fog. Somebody was slumped over the bed to your right; it was the Princess, for some reason seated by you, but she had nodded off and leaned forward. Behind her was an attentive Fallschirmjäger, whom you immediately questioned.

“Hey. You. What time is it about?” you asked.

“Almost six.”

“You let me sleep that long? God damn it.” You cursed, “…Guess nothing’s happened, then.”

“Antennae are extended on your tanks, got people listening to whatever they can find.” The trooper replied, “Would have had you up if anything needed your attention, yeah. Sergeant said that with you wounded you need all the rest we can get you.”

“I guess so.” The wound still burned a bit; you didn’t know when you’d be able to stop worrying about it. “So what about this?” you pointed to Edelina, snoozing at the foot of the bed.

“You were makin’ weird talk in the middle of your sleepin’.” The trooper answered stiffly. “She heard it, offered to come over and do somethin’ about it. Didn’t see the harm. Sat down there and started singin’ something all quiet, was in some language I don’t understand. She fell over a bit after you stopped your tossin’ an’ turnin’.”

“I see.” You got yourself up and stretched out. “I trust patrols have been kept up, and besides here, the packages kept out of sight?” You kept this talk low, in case of any curious listeners who might be nearby. The trooper nodded. “I’m going down. Keep an eye on her,” you pointed to Edelina. “Have you all eaten dinner yet?” the trooper shook his head. “Alright then. I’ll send somebody up with food for you and the others. Eat the ones clearly meant for you or I’ll have to endure a round of bitching from A.”

The trooper saluted as you did a few careful lunges, before heading downstairs.

Isos and the large, strange masked man were walking into the woods as you went out. Sergeant Schneider confirmed he had been told of their departure plans when you men with him and asked about it.

“They planned on moving under cover of the twilight and night, commander.” Schneider reported. “I’ve had a few men making sure the markings on our ration and fuel canisters are scratched out or obscured. Judge above knows we’ve had plenty of down time. We paid attention to the evacuation of our people; the last transport flew out a few hours ago. We’re officially alone, now.”

“No reports from HQ, I presume.”

“None. Though we listened in on the channels they would be using anyways. Seems everything’s gone off without a hitch.”

“Any news of the AUSC hunting us?” you asked next, “They’re probably mad that we ran off with the royal family, after all.”

Schneider shook his head. “No. That is, it’s definite that they’re hunting us, but they’re not calling us out or placing any sort of bounty. What we’ve been hearing instead is that they have them. They’re declaring themselves the official continuation of the regime because of such.”

“A bold lie,” you smirked to yourself and glanced back to the house where the Princess and Prince actually were. “They won’t be able to keep it up for very long, I’ll bet.”

“The Intelligence Specialist said as much.” Schneider agreed, “Who knows how many resources they’ve devoted to seeking us out, though. Independent radio’s been saying the militarists and aristocrats have started clashing, and hard. Latest news is that now that our guys are off the airfield and that info’s been spread around, Gunmetal Wolfe’s launching an offensive towards Santi Arrofini. The AUSC’s got something stuck up in their territory north that their propaganda was condemning, too. If I were to guess it’s that town we passed through.”

“But nothing local, despite how messed up the Revolutionaries here are?” you pushed in another direction, “I was anticipating having to move soon if the AUSC started advancing here. With that car earlier I was expecting that they might have done so at least a little while I was out.”

“I sent out a pair of scouts just after noon,” Schneider told you, pointing out west. “I had them double back and check. They said the bridge had been destroyed when they looked back where we came from; dunno who did it, but it was done. Which means…”

“That any AUSC’ll be coming from the north and northwest,” you finished for Schneider, taking a few steps in that direction and squinting through the new fog. “Unless they saw anybody on the way?”

“There were a few reported. A partner to the armored car from earlier, but the bridge wasn’t in a state where it could be fixed quickly, I was told. If the Revolutionaries spring back up they should be able to keep any crews from mending it unescorted.”

That the bridge was destroyed was an incredible boon for you, but you couldn’t think of a reason for the AUSC to destroy it, nor an opportunity for the Revolutionaries to do the same. Did Talmeier have it done, you wondered, the wily old fox? Or had Woschald wired the bridge to blow when it was possible he might have had to take the Royals out of reach? It would have been simple with the proper time detonators, and only really benefited him, especially if it was done after it was too late for them or any of the Battalion to be punished.

“I was going to have another scouting mission look east, for any Revolutionary CPs and assemblies, perhaps meet and see if we can assume a more official capacity in their ranks,” Schneider continued, “Though now that you’re awake, I suppose you can make the decision on that.”

>I think I’d prefer our presence here be as mysterious as possible. The fewer the better. If things get more organized for the Revolutionaries in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move.
>That sounds good. I’ll go along myself; introduce myself to the new higher ups.
>I’d rather prioritize another location, considering our limited manpower. (Where? For example, looking north for AUSC lines, or going down to the coast or Reichsport)
>Other?

>>3238283
>>I think I’d prefer our presence here be as mysterious as possible. The fewer the better. If things get more organized for the Revolutionaries in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move.
To me the issue is if the RAGV become more organised in the area it probably means they have someone around who can definitely tell we're faking or being able to verify our status with his higher command.

>>3238283
>>That sounds good. I’ll go along myself; introduce myself to the new higher ups.

If the Revolutionaries look too organized, we can just not talk to them. Otherwise I do no see much of a downside and at least trying to find some way to blend in.

>>3238283
>>I think I’d prefer our presence here be as mysterious as possible. The fewer the better. If things get more organized for the Revolutionaries in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move.

>>3238283
>>I think I’d prefer our presence here be as mysterious as possible. The fewer the better. If things get more organized for the Revolutionaries in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move.

>>3238283
>>I think I’d prefer our presence here be as mysterious as possible. The fewer the better. If things get more organized for the Revolutionaries in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move.

I'm only mostly dead.

>>3238298
>>3238491
>>3238728
>>3239436
Out of sight, out of mind.

>>3238353
Impromptu social gathering with western pan-nationalist societal reformist militant revolutionaries.

Perhaps they're better off left alone. Writing.

“Actually, I think we ought to sit tight here,” you warded off Schneider’s plan, “I’d prefer our presence here to be nice and questionable, mysterious. The fewer know we’re here, the better. If things get too organized in too short an order, we’ll probably have to move, so I’m not keen on helping them pull together.”

“If the Revolutionaries are more organized, they will provide a hardier resistance against further AUSC incursions.” Schneider countered.

“They’ll also be more likely to figure out our game. The more higher-ups get the chance to figure things out the more likely they’ll discover this fictional character called Commander Strazzo and know that he doesn’t actually exist.”

Sergeant Schneider shrugged. “I brought that up with the intelligence specialist, too. She told me that it wouldn’t be hard to impersonate a militiaman who pushed his way up the ranks in a time of crisis. Even though they have respect for the Revolutionary troopers, the Vitelians themselves don’t hold their Halmeggian allies in much regard unless they’re defectors from the army or police and the like. That you’ve found yourself with tanks would make the RAGV actually interested in learning a lowly militiaman’s name.”

“Don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but,” you pointed to your outfit and Schneider’s own, “I don’t think we’re trying to look like just plain militiamen.”

“Field promotions, sir.” Schneider presented dully; it would have come to mind, considering the events of now yesterday.

“Maybe.” You relented on that point. “Even so. Everything’ll be for the better the longer nobody knows we’re here. If anybody stumbles upon us, fine, but I don’t want to go out and just tell anybody we’re here.”

“Fine,” Schneider still gave a glance east, “Only scouting by us, then.”

“Before any of that, though,” you directed Schneider’s attention to the inn; specifically, what was concealed on the other side of it in a lean to tent of sorts. “Go bug the men to make some grub. Extra portions today. I want everybody to have a boost on this first day, but we’ll be keeping rationing reasonable afterwards. We won’t be able to stay here long enough that we’ll burn through our food and water anyways. Not with how this war’s been going. I’d rather everybody be strong in case we have to hightail it rather than being frugal like we’re holding out in a siege.” A thought. “Oh, make sure they fry the washout in a hot pan, won’t you?”

Washout was an informal name for the canned cooked pork loaf that can in two hundred gram tins. Army advisories claimed it was full of protein; those who ate them claimed they were full of jelly and slime. Giving the slices a good sear at least gave the pallid pink flesh some color. Granted, they were the most dense food items in a box of preserved rations in this situation. Powdered gruel, bullion, chalky candy wafers that came in packages like coin rolls and tea rounded out a daily allotment of iron rations when there was no field kitchens, and unless you were to go and range out for other ingredients, such would be your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Much as anybody liked to bitch about the food, though, in times like this, nobody would think to do anything but wolf as much of the stuff down as possible. It was almost certainly not what Princess Edelina and Prince Alexander would be used to; you almost certainly expected crabbing from the latter, but the alternative was going hungry. After everybody’s share of the food had been prepared, with care not to produce much to show for it in using hexamine tabs for heating instead of wood, you were struck with curiosity. How would the irritable prince react to this sort of cuisine? You expected nothing good but figured that it might at least be entertaining.

Yet when you went up, Alexander had not touched his food; partially expected, but he was not complaining nor objecting. Instead, he had set it aside on the desk in the room, and was holding his chin in between his finger and thumb, legs apart and back hunched over, deep in contemplation; his ivory skin and noble features made him, even in common dress, appear as though a marble sculpture.

“The food not to your tastes?” you asked.

“I am not hungry. I will eat when I am.” Alexander replied, though it seemed a reflexive response, like he was speaking in his sleep. “…There is something that I am pondering. Something very strange. I spoke to your man, here.” It was one of Schneider’s…well, your crewman, now. “Your” loader. “I asked him about the state my family was found in, how my ancestral home was laid to waste and defiled. I must know these things, no matter how ugly the truth may be, for when time comes to exact my vengeance upon those responsible.” This proclamation was eerie, with how distant he seemed saying it. “But. I had already illustrated a picture in my mind, yet from how your man has told me of what he saw, it seems that my assumption was…unexpectedly contradictory to the actual events.” He furrowed his royal brow and closed his eyes slowly, “I am yet considering what this means.”

“…Contradictory how?” you asked coolly. If there was something more to the failures of your mission…you could not do not knowing more of the terrible picture. “I also saw what Corporal Zolldom did, should you need another perspective.” Any animosity for Alexander’s character had vanished. You were driven by a new hunger for knowledge, now.

“Although I doubt you saw more than he did…I suppose a greater quantity of eyes can assemble a more accurate picture.” Even when deep in thought, Alexander couldn’t help but be disdainful. “This Dhegyar man informed me that there was an incredible amount of fighting within the castle, to the point that the interiors were torn to shred. My family was...found in the wine cellar. And executed on the spot, presumably. Is this all correct?”

“That’s about the size of it, yeah. They got cornered, and once that happens, you’re screwed.”

“Their position could not have been described as cornered.” Alexander corrected, still as though speaking to himself, “Not unless…although then, who?”

“Who what?” you asked, demanding to be let in on his thoughts.

Alexander would not be so forthcoming, though. He picked up his spoon and ate a bite of gruel. “This food is ideal. It nourishes, presumably, but it does not distract.” He turned around, crossed his legs, and pointed the spoon at you and Zolldom. “I appreciate your testimony. However, what I am deliberating does not concern you. Your task is to ensure my safety, is it not? You are ill concerned with Halmeggia or its Royal Family beyond fulfilling your mission, I am sure, and you have no intent to aid me beyond delivering me to the Reich. I see no reason to share my thoughts, thusly. You may leave me be.”

>Ha. I don’t think so. You’re telling me because my need-to-know basis at the moment covers “everything.” Spill the beans.
>Say I’m curious though. Could I trade you anything for your thoughts? Not a penny, surely.
>I’ll gladly leave you be. Didn’t even need to request, really.
>What if I guess? Will you say if I’m right or wrong? (Write in guess)
>Other?

>>3241191
>What if I guess? Will you say if I’m right or wrong? (Write in guess)
"You think they were betrayed on the inside of the siege? Does the cellar have multiple exits?"

>>3241191
>>What if I guess? Will you say if I’m right or wrong? (Write in guess)
Was there a traitor amongst the Guard? It's something that my higher-ups have been concerned with for awhile.

>>3241216
>>3241219
Seconding. No reason to push him but if we show we have an idea of what's going on already maybe he'll be more willing to talk it out with us.

>>3241216
This works, just a guess and if wrong move along.

I think we all really know what happened, but I don't want him to know.

Even more dead. I will try and not have that be the case today.

>>3241216
>>3241219
Deploy guesses.
>>3241245
But no pushy
>>3242324
>I think we all really know what happened, but I don't want him to know.
Oh, do you?

Anyways, it's the write time.

“What if I guess?” you posited, “Will you say if I’m right or wrong?”

Prince Alexander looked unamused. “Do not waste my time.”

It was pretty annoying that somebody who was probably 17 or 18 was giving you this sort of shit. “Well, I won’t, because I’m pretty sure I’m right. Do you think they were betrayed on the inside of the siege? Say, by a traitor amongst the guard. It’s something my commanders were concerned about for a while.”

“Rather closer a guess than I expected,” Alexander mused, putting his chin in a finger and thumb again, “But no, not the Guardsmen. They are steadfast, but more importantly, lack the knowledge…”

“The knowledge of what? Some secret passage, maybe?” you pushed a little, “You mentioned the cellar being important. Did it have multiple exits?”

The look on Alexander’s face immediately told you that you were off the mark, but not so much so that he was irritated rather than intrigued. “You are close enough to the truth of things that I suppose that your perspective is valuable again. Perhaps you will come to a conclusion sooner than I.” Unusual humility from the Prince? “No. The wine cellar has no secret passages. It merely possesses a flight of stairs, and a dumbwaiter meant only for drinks; or small individuals, at best. The only ones who might escape that way would have been Maron and Alexandra…” The Prince’s face turned dark, “The filth. The contempt that I wish the Judge to gaze upon them with for the magnitude of their sin, for the deaths of my siblings alone. Alexandra was a sweet young lady, she ran from the palace to give her things to schoolchildren. She never sought to do anything but give, and she was butchered. To flay the perpetrators alive would be too kind a punishment. To wait another day for vengeance is an eternity too long. What else can I do, though, without the Grimoire…” Alexander rubbed his head, speaking through gritted teeth. “I have lose my focus. Where was I?”

“The cellar, and its lack of secret passages?” you provided.

“Yes. It has none. However, that is not to say there are no secret passages. There was one, which should have been quite simple to use, were the siege to indeed become hopeless, even though doing such would have separated us from the Reich’s rescue party by some distance, it would have been an option to take. Yet, such was not done so. The only reason for doing that would be if the passage itself was infiltrated, and made the enemy’s.”

“So the Revolutionaries found it. Why couldn’t it have been a traitor by the guard who told them?”

“As I said.” Alexander said levelly, “The location in the first place was not widely known, even amongst the guardsmen, and the way to open it at all is limited to the Royal Family. Perhaps to close friends of them as well.”

“They could have just broken their way in. Enough explosives, drills?”

“Maybe. That would take quite some time, however. The passage was made prohibitively difficult to do such to, and has been reinforced since its creation. No, they were surely helped in, but…” Alexander sighed heavily, and pushed the sunglasses he had been made to wear further up face. “I cannot think of who would have, nor why, without the reasons being arbitrary; that they did so because they could have.”

“Who do you think it was, then?” you tried one more push.

“…It is unimportant to you.” Alexander refused to tell you, and from his tone, he was set on that. “And the more I ponder it, the more fruitless it appears to be to think further. What would I be able to do? I have no allies. If what you say is correct, then those I thought could be counted on would have lopped off my head so there would be no rivals to my dear, and feeble, sister. My claim to the throne may as well not exist, and I have no ally in her, either. My only hope is placed in an artifact of the past that I only know exists at all…” Alexander put his hands on his lap and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “It is a wretched feeling, to be of my birth and yet be helpless. My only current means I have to spite those that would see my family scratched out of existence…is silly to think about. To weaponized my bloodline, but such would also be to corrupt it. I trust you know what I refer to.”

“Your eyes, yeah?” you looked to Zolldom, but he had stopped paying attention and strolled out of the room. “So it’s true, then? That no matter what, the kids of one of your sort will have golden eyes.”

“It is.” Alexander said, still leaning back in the chair, arms sagging off of his lap and to his sides, dangling towards the floor, hands loose. “Edelina and I, should we have children, possess this same trait of our storied line, going back to our ancestor Relqa of Auric. It is proof to our birthright to this nation and its people. However, Edelina is a woman. As silly as it sounds to say, as a man, I have a clear advantage when waging a war of reproduction against those who would destroy us.”

Normally you would have snickered at the phrase war of reproduction but Alexander was being serious about it; it was his royal lineage at risk, after all, not a philandering lifestyle.

“The blood of Auric cannot be allowed to die out, you understand.” Alexander’s fury seemed to have melted into emptiness. “Yet to fight in this way would be to spit on hundreds of years of tradition. We know well enough our curse to not propagate ourselves widely and irresponsibly.”

“Wait now, a curse?” you had to cut in, “That’s what you call it?”

“I know not why it is called that,” Alexander got a bit testy, “So do not ask. You could ask Edelina, I suppose. She would know. Now, if you would let me alone, I would like some solitude in these trying times. ”

>Now, wait a moment, I’m not leaving off on that earlier point just yet. Let me guess again, this time about who the treasonous party is, and tell me what you think.
>Fine, I’ll go do that, then. (Go bother Edelina, even though she’s asleep)
>Your sister is resting. I have plenty of other business and, as you’ve said about plenty of things, it’s none of my business.
>Other?

Delayed due to lunch, apologies.

>>3243807
>>Your sister is resting. I have plenty of other business and, as you’ve said about plenty of things, it’s none of my business.
We can go bother Edelina when she's awake.

>>3243807
>>Your sister is resting. I have plenty of other business and, as you’ve said about plenty of things, it’s none of my business.

>>3243807
>Your sister is resting. I have plenty of other business and, as you’ve said about plenty of things, it’s none of my business.

Maybe we should bring up other things as well when she wakes up.

>>3244265
>other things

...such as?
Anyways I'm briefly out to pick up a car, will be writing when I get back potentially, barring other happenings.

“Nah, your sister is resting. I’ve got plenty of other things to take care of, and like you keep saying,” you turned to head out the door, “It’s none of my business.”
So you left Alexander to his thoughts. If he didn’t want to tell you anything…then, whatever. You were already alone with people from the unit, and soon enough, anything concerning the suspected traitor wouldn’t matter at all as you found yourself back in the Reich. The mystery could go and get bent. Though, you went to check on Edelina anyways; it was a bit early for most to be sleeping, so you figured it best to make sure that she was alright. She remained where she had been left, though; in the room you commanded, slumped over the end of the bed…man, you had really screwed up her hair, hadn’t you?

“Hey,” you whistled to the trooper standing guard, “Help me get her on the bed. She shouldn’t be sleeping like this.”

As you lifted Edelina under her arms and your man supported her legs (either one of you could have done this yourself, but this was to flop her around less), you found yourself thinking about what Alexander had said, and what Edelina had said in the past concerning her royal status; that she would rather not inherit the throne had she the choice, but Alexander had described the golden eyes they both had as a natural right to the throne of Halmeggia, should it be unoccupied by a bearer of Von Halm-Auric’s eyes, that is. So really, what other choice was there for her, mandated by her birth? Perhaps that wouldn’t be the case in Halmeggia for much longer, or maybe, even with all that had happened, it would be.

Even more awkward would be if she had any children, in spite of having merged into what one would think would be a normal life. They would be born with exactly the same birthright; the same expectation. Maybe that was a sardonic reasoning for it being called a curse, but you doubted it was the actual motivator behind being dubbed such.

A shame, really; Edelina would be a fine catch for any self-respecting man.

When the Princess was transferred to the bed, she only stirred slightly. It was understandable that she be so tired; you wondered if her or the Prince had slept while you did. She didn’t wake, though, so there was no reason to explain yourself. You went down to get your share of supper, hastily; your stomach had never liked to miss a meal and its stubbornness hadn’t been pounded down even during boot and certainly not by war itself, and it was making its displeasure known in force.

-----

“So, Sarge,” you talked at Schneider in between tilting a tin of gruel and salt down your suck bucket, “We’ve got our pickets set up, yeah?”

“Yes,” Schneider told you, “Though our limited manpower means that we’re spread out with little in the way of force. If anything comes this way, I’ve told the men to retreat to here. If we’re to try and fight anything off away from this CP, we’ll probably have to drive the Luftpanzers out to deal with it.”

“That’s fine.” you nodded in agreement, “Though if we actually have to fight anything we’re probably freakin’ screwed anyways, so may as well fight it here. I’m actually a bit more unsure of what we do if we, say, get surrendered to.”

“You think that’ll happen?” Schneider asked.

“You were in Felbach, yeah?”

“I was.” Schneider replied, “I’m told that I was lucky for ending up in a quiet place for most of it, but I wouldn’t have called it quiet.”

“Yeah. See, in the final days of that, after Tillhu Pass where uh…that one guy, I dunno.”

“That one guy.” Schneider said drily. “Only Rogel Zierke, the Iron Hand of the Kaiser.”

“Bite me.” You smirked, “Anyways, where Death Grip absolutely took apart the last big push the Northmen made with a bunch of tanks they got passed by the Emreans, nearly smashed the line in half, but plenty of them were scurrying about after. I was bored and had to take a message to my company headquarters, and while I’m taking a bike to do that, one of their no-shit cavalry tanks they loaned from the Emreans bursts out in front of me, and while I’m thinking I’m toast, their commander pops out and raises his hands. If people’ve got no fight left in them, it don’t matter what they have or how many of them there are.”

“I see what you mean, then.” The Sergeant chewed on a burned piece of Washout, somehow extremely overcooked despite the base product having the consistency of pudding. “If anybody surrenders to us then we either keep them here or send them on their way, but they might talk about our location, about us. Unless we…dealt with them.”

“We might have to.” You said gravely, “Though honestly, since we have ladies in tow, I’d like to avoid that if possible. Of course, if they’re AUSC, then they’re enemies. As Revolutionaries, we’d not be treating them nicely whether they shot or no. If other Revs came to us for help, though, well, we can’t put them in the ground. I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

>From here, there may be brief encounters as you hunker down. Though you’re decently hidden, given the states of the lines, you may be found, though not necessarily by anybody in the mood to fight.
>That said, give me 3 sets of 3d4 to determine encounters for this night, next morning, and next midday

Rolled 4, 2, 1 = 7 (3d4)

>>3244992

Rolled 1, 1, 3 = 5 (3d4)

>>3244992
Maybe they will be carting off looted Halmeggian gold bars we can appropriate.

Rolled 3, 4, 4 = 11 (3d4)

>>3244992

Up for some. Game's soon though so after this update it'll be a while.

>>3245196
>>3245218
>>3245334

These are pretty good rolls, honestly, though "good" right now might not mean exciting.

...Of course, if you want riches, you never got rid of all of Edelina's jewelry, but that would be rude to appropriate, wouldn't it?

>4, 2, 1 – Nothing of Note, N/A, N/A

Having slept through much of the day, you kept yourself up through much of the night, letting Sergeant Schneider sleep, himself. Thankfully, the Judge saw fit to show some leniency; not in the fog and mist of the woods around nor in what you could see of the starry sky above, did anybody arrive to disturb your camp. A few times, a few pops would echo through the trees, skirmishes that began and ended too inconsequentially to do more than snap for a moment like but a few firecrackers. The true war, for some more time, was refreshingly far away from the hideout. You were so used to practically marching to the sound of guns, though, that your current action of sitting about and waiting to see if anybody found you, friend or foe…well, even in your wars, there had been plenty of times where you couldn’t find enemies and allies in the confusion of it all in spite of looking for them, so was your current situation really any surprise?

Though just because you were waiting didn’t mean you were idle. Especially for Owl 3, who had taken up the job of listening for interesting information on the radio. You offered to have somebody else do that for her, but she refused that.

“This is what we did for months on end when there was less direct acting on political opponents,” Owl 3 said dully, tweaking at radio controls to jump around the net while referring to hastily scrawled lists of frequencies that had known to have been transmitting; according to her, a lot of independent radio and propaganda. “Passive radio listening is a rather safe method of information gathering, but it also gives proportionally less, especially without military ciphers.”

“Right.” You mused in a low hum, “So I guess you’re not getting much then, huh.”

“Listening to propaganda and independent radio still provides an important information angle,” Owl 3 told you, “The obvious. That may not sound like much, but when one is hiding in a hole, they may as well have no eyes nor ears.”

Owl 3 seemed tired. “You need any sleep?” you asked, “I can have somebody take over here.”

“I’m used to it.” Owl 3 mumbled tonelessly. “Chemically induced sleep might not be that restful, but it does just fine.”

“That was practically yesterday.”

“Your point?” Owl 3 brushed you off, “In any case. In the day since we have stopped being able to count on overhead observation and normal information sources, I have deduced the following obvious events, mostly from propaganda and information that is publically forthcoming, and from cross examining such for consistencies. The Revolutionaries still hold the capital, Gunmetal Wolfe and his Guardians of Halmeggia have been growing in strength, but seem to lack the numerical superiority needed to make an assault on the capital while keeping their lines intact and their territorial gains under control. The Aristocratic Union have been consolidating their gains, and have announced an offensive to take back the capital. In short, every major faction is in the midst of a standoff.”

“A standoff?” you repeated, puzzled. “But you said the AUSC was about to make an attack?”

“They said they were going to attack.” Owl 3 said dully, “They don’t actually have to do it. I suspect they will wait for Wolfe to make his own attack and make limited attacks until then. With much of the quick fighting establishing broad territories over the first hours, I expect there to be much posturing. A certain group of Reich soldiers delivered a heavy blow to the formerly dominant Revolutionary forces, after all. I am not educated in armored warfare, but I suspect that in the battles of the past day that many of the Revolutionary’s mobile units were destroyed by yours and Wolfe’s attacks upon them, and from the AUSC’s posturing, I doubt that their mobility is much better. I would expect Wolfe’s support among the army and especially among the mechanized portion to have given him the greatest share of mobile equipment, but there is no way to tell for certain. As fervent as the Guardians’ calls for volunteers is, they must be unable to exploit such, in any case.”

“Huh.” You put that all together steadily, “You got all that from listening to shit talk and bragging?”

“Much of it is conjecture.” Owl 3 admitted, “But that is all we have. If you do not trust my judgment, then that is understandable.”

“Why wouldn’t I trust your judgment?” you chuckled, ruffling Owl 3’s hair and knocking the headset off of her, and also utterly messing up her styling and pushing her bangs all over her face. “Has it steered me wrong before?”

Owl 3 sat silent in response, probably not to your comment, but to how you messed up her part. “Hm.” She pushed the headset back up over her head, catching all her bangs at once; there was a rare sight of Owl 3’s whole face, and in a surprisingly stable position rather than held with a hand. “I suppose not.”

“Huh. You ever wear your hair like that, just normally?” you asked, “Having both colors showing at once is rather eye catching, after all.”

“…In the past.” Owl 3 said flatly, “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

Owl 3 stared at the radio console, though she didn’t seem focused on it whatsoever. “The girl who would have done that died some time ago, and her life was taken in such a way that it could never be returned. So dredging up that corpse is pointless. I am a new woman now. The sort,” She adjusted her hair back to the way it was, “who only needs to show one color.”

>Mess up her hair again, and “fix” it; it’s better out of her face.
>Oh? And what “color” is that?
>I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. Not like I’m in any position to judge, huh?
>Other?

>>3246858
>Mess up her hair again, and “fix” it; it’s better out of her face.

>>3246858
>Oh? And what “color” is that?
Then
>Mess up her hair again, and “fix” it; it’s better out of her face.

>>3246900
Changing to this.

>>3246858
>>Mess up her hair again, and “fix” it; it’s better out of her face.

I am here once more.

>>3246879
>>3246900
>>3246944

Through destruction, creation. Raze down the forest to construct a garden. And perhaps a philosophical question as well.

Writing, then.

Rolled 3 (1d3)

“Oh? And what color is that?” You asked, in response to Winnifred’s turn of phrase.

“Whatever color suits the time.” Owl 3 said, “Maybe that is not what would be ideal, but it is reality. A forceful adaptation. As for what the true color is? At this point, can there be one?”

“I think I know a way to find out,” You pushed your hand over her head and knocked the headset off her again, and shuffled your hand side to side, spilling her bangs back over her face. You knew this annoyed her; but she was reacting in the usual composed and passive manner of saying and doing nothing, so you took the chance to “fix” your “accident.” “Oops, sorry,” you laughed drily, “My hand slipped. Allow me.” Winnifred remained fixed as you brushed her hair back with your hands, and then pulled the headset back into place, checking back in front to poke any stray bangs back behind her ears or the headband of the set. She glowered at you the whole time; you felt the need to poke the corners of her mouth to tilt it up. “All better now, yeah?” you grinned at her, “Trust me, it is.”

Owl 3 didn’t blink, until you stopped prodding her cheeks up. “I suppose I am being commanded to wear my hair back.”

“You bet you are.”

“Fine, then.” Huh. Owl 3 didn’t seem upset at all, and not just in not seeming so. “If I am not required to utilize my heterochromia for infiltration, I suppose I can make sacrifices for the sake of morale.”

“Would you sacrifice a few buttons of your blouse?” you teased her a bit. Winnifred was slim and rather small about the chest, but breasts were candy; no matter the quantity what was there was still sweet.

“Be careful, Captain,” Winnifred pushed back softly, “I might have to report you to your superiors for intent to self-harm.”

“I’ll report you for sexual assault,” you shot back with a poke to her side, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did when meeting with an official. I was such an innocent young man, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Hmm,” Owl 3 reached out and stroked a finger from the bottom of your jaw and up your chin, “I suppose we’ll have to call it a stalemate, then?”
“May as well be a loss,” you said back with a smirk, “And I hate losing.”


“Your move, then, Captain.” Winnifred purred, “Unless you’ll take your loss and not be so sore about it.”

Somebody slapped the side of the tank twice. “Hey, commander!” a voice you recognized as your loader called after its owner had knocked, “News from the line.”

“What?” you demanded, irritably. “What is it?”

>1-militia, 2-regular, 3-armor

> Rolled 1, 1, 3 –Revolutionary, Small Group, Reserved Disposition

“A tank, by itself. One of those old models with a new turret.” Your man said, “They aren’t moving like they want to mess with anybody, though they’re certainly thinking they’re in friendly territory. They’ll probably pass on by if we don’t do nothin’. Anything you want us to do?”

The first thing you thought, was that though you weren’t sore before, you certainly were now.

>They’re not bothering us, so we won’t bother them. Now stop bothering me, so I can bother this minx.
>Have Schneider decide how to deal with it, I’m busy. If he wants to meet with them, so be it, but only to talk, they’re not coming around here.
>A tank, huh. I suppose, as a fellow Revolutionary Armor officer, I ought to go meet them, huh.
>Other?

>>3247937
>>Have Schneider decide how to deal with it, I’m busy. If he wants to meet with them, so be it, but only to talk, they’re not coming around here.

>>3247937
>Have Schneider decide how to deal with it, I’m busy. If he wants to meet with them, so be it, but only to talk, they’re not coming around here.

>>3247937
>>Have Schneider decide how to deal with it, I’m busy. If he wants to meet with them, so be it, but only to talk, they’re not coming around here.

>>3247937
>>They’re not bothering us, so we won’t bother them.

>>3247937
>Have Schneider decide how to deal with it, I’m busy. If he wants to meet with them, so be it, but only to talk, they’re not coming around here.

Show some initiative Wesley!

I am extremely dead but I suppose I've been wore on a saturday for updates.

>>3248176
Sitting tight is for the best.

>>3247953
>>3247964
>>3248021
>>3248342
Figure it out on your own, I'm busy! Just for God's sake don't let them in the house.

I am write

“I’m busy right now,” you said testily, “Have Sergeant Schneider decide what to do. If he wants to meet with them or let them pass on by, so be it either way, so long as they’re not coming around here.”

Your loader, Zolldom (who had traded places with your driver in guarding Alexander), would have had plenty of reason to question you. However, he was a Dhegyar, and they were real sticklers about hierarchy of rank.

“Yes, sir. I’ll go and inform the Sergeant of how busy you are.”

However, obedience did not mean they were incapable of snark. He saluted, took a few steps back and turned around to go get your second in command. After watching him a bit, to make sure he wasn’t about to come back, you leaned back into the tank and smiled at Owl 3. “So, where were we?”

“Are you sure you should not deal with that?” Owl 3 inquired mildly.

“Maybe?” You gave the sort of shrug that was actually a sign of full confidence in your choice. “Schneider’s not dumb, he can handle some responsibility. One of his flaws even is that he’s too willing to surrender initiative to get a higher up to make what he thinks is the right decision. This’ll be good for him. ‘sides, they’re just a little band of Revs in a rinky dink tank. I’ve dealt with enough of those for the time being. I’ll pass on having any meetings with ‘em if I can help it.”

“How irresponsible.” Owl 3 jabbed at you.

“What can I say?” you leaned in further and spoke closer to her ear, “I love ladies. Not like you weren’t eager to flirt a bit on the job. All work and no play makes Winnie a dull girl, hm?”

“Reinhold plays so much that his wit has become dull,” Winnifred gave you a good cut, “But yes, listening to the prattling of a country pulling itself to pieces was repetitive. They speak as to echoes and mirrors, and variety is the spice of life.” She kept one earphone on, but slid the other back. “Considering that I know what these echoes will say anyways, there is no harm in some pleasant conversation.”

“I’m pleasant conversation?” you grinned broadly, “I’ve received a promotion, I see. Pretty flattering, honestly. Usually I need to put a few drinks in a lady before that.”
“I would not turn down a few drinks.” Owl 3 said, voice like a frosted rose, the chill apparent on the outside but nevertheless bright and red beneath.

“Neither’d I,” you laughed slightly to yourself in a pair of closed mouth huffs, “But I forgot to ask the Colonel for any of those. We’ll have to make do with imaginary spirits. Do you prefer beer not present, or a wish for wine? I’d think the latter, given your blood.”

“Actually, I prefer hard liquor." Winnifred said, "Not mixed, perhaps with ice. It is quick and efficient if it needs to be, though it may be refined in proper context. There is nostalgia for me in the rough burn of moonshine, and a sweet melancholy in a few fingers of brandy. The strength is what makes its intent true.”

“I guess. But you don’t always want things to go too quickly, yeah? I remember what you kept saying about patience, and all, and I don’t disagree.” You sighed, “Though, I’ll admit, sometimes you do need it fast and hard, no matter if it’s booze or other things.”

“I have found as life went on, that hard liquor can be plenty slow enough. Like I implied, it is flexible.” Winnifred slipped her hand in her waistband, and withdrew a concave, dully shining flask. “It is also so much more portable. We may be lacking in real wine or beer, but this brandy is real enough, if you would like to partake.”

“Hah. And I thought I was bad,” you smirked, “I at least don’t bring drinks on the job.”

“Liquor has many uses, in my work.” Winnifred sniffed, “It is good for extracting secrets, easing suspicions…yet I would admit, that loosening of the tongue like such is hardly necessary with you.”

“Ouch.”

“It was not meant as a criticism.” Winnifred wiggled the flask in front of her. “So you would not turn down a few drinks?”

>You have no idea how much I've needed just one. I'll gladly have a few.
>Nah. If we split that up between everybody to be fair, there’d only be enough to wet the tongue anyways. I really ought to get back to business.
>Are you soliciting me?
>Other?

>>3249497
>Are you soliciting me?

And when she is indignant and tries to take it away, swipe it real quick.

Alcohol is humanity's friend. How can Reinhold abandon a friend?

>>3249497
>I suppose I could have just one, though any more would be unbecoming for an officer in the field

>>3249497
>>Are you soliciting me?
>I suppose I could have just one, though any more would be unbecoming for an officer in the field

>>3249763
Supporting

“Are you soliciting me?” you said in the most falsely coy manner you could manage- you intended to fluster her, make her indignant, and in that weakness, swipe her flask and take a pull from it. Just a short one; you were on the job, after all.

Perhaps you had forgotten who you were dealing with.

“And what if I am?” Winnifred half closed her eyes sleepily and pouted her lip slightly, shedding the jacket you had loaned her. “Would you dare to add me to your list of conquests, or would you back down like a mouse who met with a weasel?” She raised her hands to her blouse, and unclasped the first button about her neck, slowly, steadily, her mouth slightly parted in a slow breath. “Would you pounce upon me and take what was offered freely, or sit and ponder if you should? I have read your dossier, Reinhold Roth-Vogel, I know your past. Your simplicity is appealing, you hide no mysteries about your character, though I would not insult you by declaring you shallow. I believe that I know you well, but I do not know you perfectly. You jump upon prostitutes and women you have barely spoken to readily enough, you flirt and cajole, you know how to play games. Yet any relationships beyond such are quite short in duration.”

“Well.” You had been caught well off guard. “Yeah.”

“It makes me curious.” Winnifred began to open the next button of her blouse on one side, toyed with the white fabric between her fingers, “Of what you fear. Of where the boundary is. I wonder- have I crossed it, in spite of us having only just met? You feared Wolfe plenty, though you presented reasons that I doubt are truly valid. Naïveté of the girl, perhaps? Age? A restraint removed with intoxication, perhaps?”

Her fingers moved down to the next button, tracing her bust. “I hope it is clear that I am no innocent maiden. I was a child who was forced to become an adult too early in life. I have no delusions of value in purity, but I hold no shame in such either. I do not favor many men at all, but it is not because I consider myself special. I merely ask whom I like, and if I am denied, then I hold no spite nor sadness over it. If I were to proposition you and you refused, I would take no offense whatsoever. I am not your friend Linda Falkenstein, who attaches herself to you because of a history of admiration, nor am I Eidan Wolfe, who seeks an escape from her shattered past.”

Winnifred reached forward for your belt with a freed hand, and tugged you forward by it. “Von Löwenkreuz is a dead name. For all practical purposes, I am merely Winnifred, and no other names bind me. I do not reach for you like a rescuing rope being lowered over a cliff; I need not the shallow comfort of a brief coupling should I not be inclined. Once we part ways, we will most likely never see one another again. Perhaps that would be ideal for you?” She twisted the last button open and parted the upper section of her blouse like a book; her alabaster-white chest was laid bare, though only partways, and besides the tops of her breasts and underclothing peeking out, she was still mostly decent. “You have laid down your gauntlet. Say that I accept your implicit challenge. Do you follow through?”

>I’m used to fewer words and more action. Upstairs, in ten.
>I was only playing around. But then, I guess you’re just doing the same, huh.
>I guess I don’t. That’s not a very satisfying answer, but since you want reasons…(What are they?)
>Other?

>>3250035
>>I’m used to fewer words and more action. Upstairs, in ten.

>>3250035
>>I’m used to fewer words and more action. Upstairs, in ten.

>>3250035
>I guess I don’t. That’s not a very satisfying answer, but since you want reasons…(What are they?)
I have to pee

Kidding, >I’m used to fewer words and more action. Upstairs, in ten.

>>3250035
>>Other
"Well when you lay it all out like that... You are unlike any woman I have ever met you know that? That 'boundary' you mentioned, you might've crossed it a little."

>If this mission is going to be the last time we see each other I'd be a fool not follow through and have a night for ourselves. See you upstairs.

I added the write in and changed the prompt cause I want it to be clear to her that Winnifred IS worthy of consideration compared to the 'prostitutes and women he barely knows' if that makes sense.

>>3250035
>I was only playing around. But then, I guess you’re just doing the same, huh.

My crotch is destined for another.

>>3250272
I'll support this as an add-on as well.

Something feels off with Owl3 since the beginning.
Why does she know so much about us? Our past. Why would a field agent have such extensive access to our files (and the luftpanzer project) when we were basically deployed in a hurry. Why would she remember that we don't smoke!
Remember. What if she was the spy we were wondering about since the beginning. Right under our nose.
We know she's able to manipulate men. She just used everything she know from us to convince us to have sex out of nowhere. Why did she followed us all this time?
If we decide to have her, at least let's be careful and stay on our guard. Something is fishy and our low self esteem should give us a warning.

By the way. I don't know if it came up, but I'm pretty sure it was the princess that guided the revolutionnaries inside of the castle. When we picked her up, she let it slipped that she expected mercy from them. Maybe she thought it was the best way to have a bloodless revolution or was convinced of it by some socialist agent. Worth thing could be that she's convinced that current political system is unjust and believe in The Class as the happy end for humanity. That is all.

>>3250035
>>3250272
Seconding the intent. Maybe tanq can workshop the write in cause I'm lazy.

>>3250284
>Owl 3
If she was a spy for the Revs wouldn't we already be captured by now? She's had unrestricted access to communication by herself. Regarding Reinhold I always figured she was just really damn insightful and Reinhold is like an open book.

>Princess
I'm not entirely convinced but I'll give you that that option certainly has play to it.

>>3250299
Why would the secret spy work for the revs? Could just be using them for its own agenda.

Well this wasn't what I expected.

>>3250276
Just a prank, bro.

>>3250044
>>3250078
>>3250272
>>3250299
First girl wins. Not that she'd have much an epilogue anyways, in case that wasn't obvious from the whole "never see each other again" claim. Fuck Winnifred, Marry Wolfe...kill Linda. Heh heh heh. Naaah.

>>3250284
>>3250410
Very interesting theories. Good observations. Are they accurate?...Well, you seem pretty certain of it, and certainly not unjustly. Answers tend to have a way of making themselves known eventually anyways.

Anyways. Writing.

>>3250284
>>3250410
I'm mean it's pretty obvious that Winnifred isn't a fan of the Kaiser given what happened to her father. Though yeah if she's a spy I'd say she's using the RAGVies for her own ends rather than being their agent.

“Well,” you scratched the side of your head, “When you lay it all out like that…you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met, you know? That boundary? You might’ve crossed it a little. That stuff you said about whores and floozies, I mean, that’s true, but I don’t think of you as either. You’re, uh, worth it. Enough that I might feel unsure about this. Though.” You shoved your hand under her seat, and gave her butt a squeeze. “If this mission’s going to be the last time we see each other, I’d be a damn fool to play chicken, and not have a night for ourselves…See you upstairs.” With that, you slouched out of the tank before Winnifred could give an answer. You weren’t sure still if she was serious or not; but you certainly were.

“Hey, you lot!” you shouted at the loitering wanderers in the lobby, “I’ve got business to take care of with this building. All of you kindly wait outside ‘til I give the go ahead for you to come back.” They scurried out satisfactorily; you didn’t need any nonsense from them if you made the floors start creaking. Hopefully the walls had some thickness to them.

A sharp word to the fallschirmjager guarding the royals to not bother you, and a crash through the door to an empty room later, you paced back and forth wondering how you were going to do this. This had to be done right…you flipped the blanket over and exposed the sheet underneath. Getting an itch from the rough blanket wouldn’t be particularly arousing, you figured. Kick any apprehension out of your head, you had one shot at this, and you’d need the endurance. You also needed something else. Winnifred’s ass, you reminisced about her butt grinding against you…that was better. Not that you expected the ladies' best friend to have stayed asleep for long anyways when the raven haired date actually came in, but you didn’t want to hurt her pride. Winnifred wasn’t attractive beyond belief, but she was good enough that some random paratrooper had declared her an 8/10; you’d certainly make her feel like one, you thought, hyping yourself up. Maybe a bit of liquid courage…ah, damn, you’d forgotten that when you booked it…

The door creaked, and you snapped up; it was Winnifred, with your jacket under one arm, and the faded metal flask in her hand. She looked from side to side, and draped your jacket over the chair by the desk before sitting lightly next to you, and proffering the flask.

“Ah, thanks,” you snatched it up, “Just a bit, though. I just don’t like celebrating without some juice in my system.” You took a decent drink of it. “Phoo. That’s some fire there. You’ll have to tell me where you get that hooch.” You offered it back, open. “You gonna get some in you?”

“I already had my share, when you left the tank.”

“I see.” You screwed the cap back on and leaned way over, to set it by the lamp on the little wooden nightstand. “…So. Uh, shit,” you remembered something that you had not thought you’d need tonight. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?”

Winnifred shook her head. “It does not matter.”

“No condom?” you repeated, dumbfounded, then shrugged. “All right then. Better without anyways, as long as…well, I’m sure you’re smart enough to not try this when you’re, you know.”

“Mhm.”

“…Oh, and are you fine with kissing? ‘Cause I know not everybody likes that in this sort of deal.”

“Reinhold.” Winnifred said crossly.

“Right, right. Sorry. Let’s get to business.” You paused. “Man, you’d think I was a virgin with this bullshit.”

“…My first time was shortly after I was exiled from my home, and my father was taken to jail.” Winnifred said idly, “I had nowhere to go. All of the friends of the family were caught in the net, and I gave away what I had, stupidly, just for food. I had to sell myself in order to have a place to sleep that wasn’t in the freezing rain.”

“…I’m sorry.” You said.

“All that I am saying is that, I’m sure you will do fine.” Winnifred placed her hand on your crotch. “…Hm, yes, this will be just fine. Though…I do have high expectations. You have a reputation to uphold, no?”

“Then let’s quit stalling.” You declared, as you shoved Winnifred down, groping her breast with one hand and squeezing her thigh with the other, as you locked lips with her.

You parted as you had her down on her back on the bed, and you spied a blush appearing on her cheeks, her eyebrows raised in seeming surprise, and her eyes not downcast, her arms raised above her head and lying flat. She hadn’t unbuttoned her blouse all the way; you took care of that in haste, as Winnifred sat back up some, reached and unbuckled your belt, pulling it from your waist in one swift motion. She was tugging your trousers down as you pushed a hand in between her legs, tugging at her bra with the other. Some girls liked to keep it on. You didn’t care to ask anymore.

Her perky, small breasts were immediately attacked when they were exposed, and you took one into your mouth with a soft bite. Winnifred was doing her best to keep up, but she didn’t have your experience, and she was barely pulling at your shirt when you put her back down, tugging her pants off her legs, before running your tongue from her navel to her neck, slipping your hand into her panties as you did so.

Winnifred’s breathing had quickened, and you could feel that she was almost ready for the show to actually begin; the throbbing in your shorts told you that you didn’t want to wait through the prelude, but this was important; Winnifred had to be treated like she treated her liquor; slow, steady, tantalizing. No good man chugged down a good whiskey in a single gulp, and as you ran your other hand over Winnifred’s pale, slim body, her tight, long stomach, her lean thighs, the coarse hair that was a refined length, against your palm…this was something worth savoring, anyways.

>Better not fuck up these rolls, champ.
>Give me 3 sets of 1d100, higher is better, best of 3

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>3250695

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>3250695
>RNG for sex
We are so fucked. And not in the good way.

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3250695

Hm.

I'll let you have one more.

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>3250709

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>3250709
>>3250695

>>3250709
Hey fuckwit. Can you be merciful and take my roll since p00g already rolled once?

>>3250715
This please.

>>3250715
Because he called you a fuckwit take the 27 instead

>>3250718
Calling him fuckwit fuels him anon. He likes it.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>3250715
...you're really stretching things thin. I'll leave it up to the Coin. 1 you get the fat 83. 2 you get the okay roll.

...Don't worry, not every time has to be the best! Although this is the only chance...so at least it's more than a few minutes.

>>3250721
shhhh

>>3250724
Let nobody say I am not merciful.
Tempted to vote for inside or on but that's a bit too crude, especially since I'm not writing out the whole thing.

>>3250695
Keep the handun in sight, ready to draw.

>>3250728
Both cruel for letting performance be dictated by RNG and merciful for letting us get that 83

Cruciful

You know that last time I saw rng sex was Banished I believe. They rolled a nat 3 on a 3d10. What was funny is that instead of Mik under preforming Soma had him accidentally broadcast the entire (and long) session to all of the party members across the world via magic communication items.

Including to a girl that really liked Mik and who Mik had *just* rejected.

Good times.

>Good Manners Roll: 83
>Encounter Roll: 3, 4, 4 –Nothing of Note, N/A, N/A

…Whew.

You caught your breath for a few moments, Winnifred’s quick, heavy breaths in your left ear, hot lines of pain from her nails having dug into your back from an act prior to the final one. Her arms around your neck, yours on her hips. Fading ecstasy, your mate for tonight still quivering from her climax, which had been sharply followed by yours. Maybe you should have pulled out, but…who cared. You were both hot, sticky, and beat, though the exhaustion was the sort you could roll over and feel glad about. Well, that she would roll over from, considering your current positioning, but she was lying down on top of you.

“…Hah. So.” You smiled at Winnifred, who raised her head and opened her eyes again to gaze into your eyes. “That was…pretty good, yeah?”

“…Mhm. It was.” Winnifred admitted. “…Pretty good. Yes. I’ve…no complaints.”

“…You know, ha, when uh,” you poked about her eyelashes, “When you cum, your eyes go all funny. Fluttering like butterflies having a bar fight.”

“Hmph.” Winnifred’s eyes snapped to the side. “…You were too forceful with your last movements. You went too deep.”

“You seemed like you liked that, though.”

“Hmm.” Winnifred kissed you softly, “Maybe I did.”

“You know,” you ran your hand up and down Winnifred’s back, “I think…I really needed this.”

“As did I.” Winnifred whispered into your ear.

“I mean, like, a lot.” you sighed, “…Man, that was a pretty big finisher. I think I’ll need to dig around in you for my brains when we get back to work.”

“No need to hurry.” Winnifred said as she rolled off, and you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her lithe body into yours, both of you lying on your sides.

“..So we won’t see each other again.” You said. “…Nah, I won’t ask why.” You and Winnifred simply enjoyed each other’s company in silence for a few minutes, over which you felt…woozier, and woozier.

“I must have gone harder than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself, “I’m really, really tired.”

“Me too.” Owl 3 said wistfully. “I’m sure your men will wake us should danger happen upon us.”

“I guess I should be thankful you don’t pop off loud,” your words got more and more slurred, “I wouldn’t want…the royals…to…” you couldn’t help but feel you’d drifted off to sleep just a little too quickly.

-----

-----

Reinhold was asleep. Owl 3 waited to be relatively certain; sure that the sleeping agent in her drink worked. In a small quantity, it didn’t induce sleep for long; only just long enough. Long enough for her to do her work. She kept her legs tight together as she pulled her necessary clothes back on; for now, just the jacket would suffice for her top half. She needed to work quickly, after all. A finger to a sewn in pocket in her trousers, after she had put them back on; all that was needed, was still there. She went to the room a few doors down, where Princess Edelina still slept, where the entirely too trusting guard had taken a gulp when a thirsty throat was offered a sip of booze.

Owl 3 stood over the sleeping Princess, outwardly innocuous pen syringe in hand; within was a culture of the incredibly deadly Tregis 43 Beta microbe, a strain of anthrax discovered, isolated and bred for uses of assassination by the Reich’s secret services near three years ago. It could kill in as little as forty eight hours, and was ill differentiable from influenza unless a body was autopsied by a somebody who could tell it apart from its particular quirks; considering that Tregis 43 Beta was a well-guarded secret, such was unlikely. She twirled it idly in her fingers; Edelina was right there. One stick, and nothing in the world could save her from apparent rapidly progressing pneumonia; in mere days, she would suffocate, and die.

Tregis 43 Beta was no normal assassination tool, of course, and Edelina had not been this bacterium sample’s original target; that honor was reserved for the Emrean Revolutionary and dire threat to the Reich’s surrounding countries, one Marcel Sesein. However, the intelligence regarding the operation here in Halmeggia had been tragically leaked, and in the confusion, Owl 3 had secured the Tregis 43 Beta. She was here on nobody’s orders, even if her whim was quite beneficial to many, such as the Aristocratic Union. There was no hate for Edelina, no disrespect, but her style of ruling was weak, and in Owl 3’s opinion, Halmeggia’s future was dim should she ascend to the throne. A bit of ugliness for a greater boon; just as the Kaiser had done to her family, and many others. No, the spite was not for Edelina, but for his majesty, Henrik Von Zeissenberg. Out of the two remaining Von Halm-Aurics, it would have been Edelina he favored for queen, rather than Alexander as king. Alexander’s nature would have made him ill-suited to be a puppet, and the Aristocratic Union’s leader was quite fond of him. Owl 3’s hatred was cold, forged over years, and for what happened to her, she wished for but one of the Kaiser’s bittersweet victories to turn to ashes in his mouth.

Yet. Owl3 still toyed with the pen syringe. The entirely too trusting guard had taken a proffered drink from her drugged flask, and had nodded off; nobody would disturb her. It was a perfect scenario…and yet. Yet. Owl 3 clenched the pen syringe, her hand shook, then she scoffed, and pushed her hair over her father’s eye. What was it, she wondered, as she slipped the pen back into her pocket. It was not hesitation, else she would not have come here. It was not to avoid the sin of murder, as she had to throw away reservations to such in her long game serving the Kaiser. Maybe the tingling in her skin, the heat below her womb…

You are lucky, Princess Edelina, Owl 3 thought as she scoffed and propped the paratrooper into the chair; he’d only sleep for about a few minutes longer, and he wouldn’t have dozed for long enough to be more than mildly embarrassed. It seems that at the last moment, my conscience woke from its slumber. You will be exempted from my vengeance. She went downstairs to throw the pen into the fireplace before she changed her mind; all aspects of it save the needle would melt into twisted plastic, and the Tregis 43 Beta would be destroyed. So too would any chance to carry out the long formulated plan.

The pen sizzling in the flames below, Winnifred returned to Reinhold’s room, disrobed once more, and slipped back into his arms. It wasn’t love, she knew. Any love in her heart had long frozen to death. But she would be lying to herself if it wasn’t favor, a desire to act kindly. Should Edelina die, after all, Staff Sergeant Dolcherr’s death would have been even further diminished. Reinhold would be devastated, and…she did not love him, but Winnifred did not want to cause somebody who had shown her such unquestioning friendliness and favor to feel that sort of sadness. It was…improper.

...Not to mention that the lovemaking had been quite satisfying.

If only she could figure out who had betrayed the Fallschirmjager, she thought as she closed her eyes, finally feeling quite tired for the first time in a while, Reinhold’s warm hands unconsciously caressing her naked waist. That would have been a nice favor to give, but what she had not done would have to do, instead.

-----

…

>Give me 3 sets of 3d4 for the next series of encounters. And a single d100. For no real reason. DC roll over 60.

I've got a game thing to attend now, so it'll be a bit before the next update.

Rolled 1, 3, 4 = 8 (3d4)

>>3250857
Conspiracy anon was close on the money. Hat's off.

Rolled 3, 3, 3 = 9 (3d4)

>>3250857

>>3250857
Seriously though who the hell thought having someone who has every reason to hate the Kaiser as a field operative? It's not even like she has any family left to take as hostages.
Also really,really interested to find out who the traitor is if Winnifred isn't it.

Rolled 1, 2, 3 = 6 (3d4)

>>3250857

Cutting the princess' hair was already a warcrime. Her, being poisonned would have been another catastrophe.

>>3250848
Tanq, Reinhold isn't getting some bastard child he'll never meet out of this I hope? Or not.

>>3250912
>Seriously though who the hell thought having someone who has every reason to hate the Kaiser as a field operative?

Who knows? Perhaps they thought she could be controlled. Maybe she put herself across like she could be. It's hopefully unquestionable that whatever she did, she's did it quite well...

Although, the whole sweep out of the nobility that accompanied the Kaiser's coronation wouldn't have happened without a few moles and rats.

>>3250928
Twas a close call. Hair can grow back. Lungs can't.

>>3250939
Nobody's rolled the d100 yet :^)

>>3250944
We're really going to roll on whether she gets pregnant or not? :p What's the status of abortion in-universe anyway?

Rolled 86 (1d100)

Rolling for impregnation

File: sweating.jpg (40 KB, 600x600)

40 KB JPG

>>3250959

>>3250912
The problem with a spook is that you cannot trust them anyway, so having a specific reason they are untrustworthy is redundant.

The insurance probably comes from keeping Winnifred working in things that it would be very obvious if she was manipulating them, but the situation now has grown too chaotic to know for sure who is doing what, giving her an opportunity to work unchecked.

>>3250958
>What's the status of abortion in-universe anyway?

Frowned upon where not illegal, but simple enough to procure.

>>3250959
It'll be hilarious if the epilogue of this is Reinhold making up with Linda and then Wolfe shows up. And then while they're arguing about who the hell is this girl Winnifred shows up with their kid. :o

Rolled 2 (1d3)

I basically wiped out for the whole afternoon and evening. My apologies. Don't pull all nighters. Anyways, I'm just gonna throw this update in then go to bed.

>>3250959
Well, it was a DC 60. Though will it mean anything? I suppose we'll see.

Anyways I'm rolling a d3 as well for this next thing.

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>3253481
...forgot I needed another, too.

A short lapse in consciousness; you woke back up, but saw no reason to move, or do anything at all other than continue to hold Winnifred in your arms, and sleep a bit more. There was naught but quiet, either the house, early morning, or a combination of both muffling any indication of continuing war. You would have been tempted to poke Winnifred for another round, but she was finally sleeping as well; so you drifted off as well; the next time you woke proper, it was morning, and she was no longer there.

Presumably went back to business. A decent idea. Though, as you put your dirty uniform on again, it occurred to you that two days had managed to melt by in what felt like barely any time at all. Another thought, as you looked out the window and into the clearing mist; who could tell if anybody was going to bathe or get the chance to until rescue arrived. Maybe that was why Winnifred had been so hasty, you thought. Speaking of, you wondered if she would act any differently, with what happened. Probably not too much. Whether the same was for you…you’d see. Part of the point had been to touch and go, hadn’t it?

“Good morning, Captain.” Sergeant Schneider saluted stiffly as you exited the inn and made your way round inspecting the camp. “You woke up at a good time. There’s somewhat a situation.”

“A situation, perfect.” You groaned, “Haven’t had coffee for two…three days. Did the situation bring any coffee? Oh, and, good work yesterday, handling the tank. How did you handle that, again?” You felt that you couldn’t brush off the Sergeant’s assumption of responsibility while you were messing around with Winnifred, as well as later, when you were having sex with her.

“I sent a delegation of sorts to meet with them. I did not have the men tell them where we were nor bring them near here. We found out some new things; though not much. This new group, though…I think the situation is changing. Going two days with barely any interference must have been too much a blessing. We still haven’t gotten any contact from the Reich, and it seems things are ramping up.”

“Aristocratic contact?” you asked warily.

“Not yet. But more Revolutionaries moving around, straying close.”

“What sort?”

>Encounter Roll: 1, 3, 4 –Revolutionaries, Large Party, Reserved
>Rolled 2 – Revolutionary Regular Troopers

“It looked like a whole platoon or so of Revolutionaries; the uniformed kind. A patrol managed to spot them from a good distance away” Schneider said, “They haven’t come looking around here; they don’t seem interested in investigating, but they did appear to be set on either digging in or finding a place to do so, though further north than they were; and they’re north of here as is. If a group like that is moving around, though, that’s got to mean the situation is changing for the better for the Revs. They’re pulling themselves back together.”

It was the lull in battle that Winnifred had mentioned earlier, surely. After a big night of beating the shit out of each other, the militant factions of Halmeggia had taken a break to lick their wounds and plan out just what they were going to do since nobody had managed to win handily yet. The fog yesterday probably kept anybody with air superiority from using it for anything good, and would have made any attacks miserable, but now that it was clearing up, if there was a time for things to kick back into gear again, it was now.

“I guess if they decide to stick around, we’ll have to actually be social at some point, won’t we,” you sighed and shoved your thumbs in your pockets, walking with Schneider towards your tank…then towards the truck out back, because you were starving. “We’ve got a fair cache of supplies. Wouldn’t want it redistributed, huh.”

“So I’m supposing that we would rather stay hidden,” Schneider said as you began to clamber into the truck, “Since any large concentration of troops like that, I suppose, would have an officer near it, or at least somewhat influential leadership. Any meeting with them, our people couldn’t pass themselves off as stray allies for much longer. They’d be expected to join.”

“Unless,” you picked out a pack of dehydrated gruel, “Hey, Sergeant, do we have hot water? Yeah? Alright then.” You only took one pack. Eating like kings could be reserved until necessary. “Anyways. We could brush off authority by going public with this gambit that I’m an officer. Assumed leadership, of course. Whatever records the Vitelians have clearly wouldn’t have me in them, but in a situation like this, talent rises to the top, and who would question it, right?”

“It would be better than introducing ourselves as a band of rogues, certainly.”

“Purposeful introduction of petty politics of officers.” You were certainly no stranger to them, even in the Reich’s army. It was universal to fighting men. “Oh, Schneider, have you eaten yet?”

“Before you woke up.”

“Here, have a bonus,” you tossed a paper roll of candy wafers out the back, which the Sergeant snatched out of the air. “Keep up the good work. I’ll decide how to handle these newcomers, you take a break. I’m just going to get an update on what’s been on the radio.”

-----

“Hey, honey,” you reached out and stroked Winnifred’s hair as you leaned over her. “You doin’ good?” She had one eye covered again; this was adroitly fixed. “Lookin’ good, that’s for sure.”

“Captain.” Winnifred said, without looking back.

“You know,” you massaged Winnifred’s shoulders, “I think you can forgo the formalities and just call me by my name like you were doing last night.”
“We are out of the bedroom, Captain.” Winnifred said, plain toned.

“Fine, fine.” you sighed, though you didn’t stop slowly rubbing her shoulders, not right away, at least. “I guess you’ve heard the news the Sergeant told me.”

“I have. What I have heard being spoken about has been informative, too. Not on propaganda, but in open radio traffic. Some Revolutionaries being less careful about communicating in code and cipher. What remains unknown is something we’d normally have no trouble procuring. News from the Reich; any newspaper at all would do fine, but our lens into our homeland’s view of this place is clouded indeed. The city of Reichsport, with its relative stability, may at least still be printing news.”

“How hard could it be to get a newspaper from a city?” you asked, “…Well, if we got into the city, at least. Maybe I’ll call in a favor from the guests we’re watching over.” If they would be able to, at least. The one called Isos and the big guy still hadn’t returned, and you didn’t know if the ones that Alkes had referred to cryptically as “the twins” would be willing to go and get you a newspaper, simple as such a request seemed.

“In any case. All indications point to the Revolutionaries in this territory...the southern Revolutionaries, I suppose they should be called, reorganizing. The Aristocratic Union lost their chance to capitalize on finishing off the south, in focusing on the Capital and consolidating their holdings, I am willing to guess. Whether the Revolutionaries have the strength to take advantage of that…who can say. We don’t know enough.”

>I can go get more information from the big group camping out north of us. I’ll present myself as a rising star. We get info and hopefully we get left alone.
>It’s fine if we don’t know that much as long as other folks know just as little or less about us. We’ll keep laying low.
>Can you tell me anything about a few things you might have heard while listening in? (What?)
>Other?

>>3253695
>>I can go get more information from the big group camping out north of us. I’ll present myself as a rising star. We get info and hopefully we get left alone.

>>3253695
>Other
Does she know some revs commanders currently deployed? We could act as one of their dispatch rider making a quick stop through their unit to collect informations?

>>3253695
>It’s fine if we don’t know that much as long as other folks know just as little or less about us. We’ll keep laying low.

>>3253695
>>I can go get more information from the big group camping out north of us. I’ll present myself as a rising star. We get info and hopefully we get left alone.

We're going to have to re-integrate at some point, might as well be now. Although the risk is very high that if a push happens we will get appropriated, cocky officer facade or not. At least here maybe we dictate the terms.

>Other?
Any news on the Militarist attack on the Capital?
How tightly closed is Reichsport to outsiders?
I know there are Rev tunnels but no idea how to find them just in case we need to book it.

At some point ask politely of the Mossheads whenever they head toward the city to pick up a variety of newspapers, not just ones about the Reich, better to cover our intentions.

>>3253695
>>It’s fine if we don’t know that much as long as other folks know just as little or less about us. We’ll keep laying low.
I think we should put off talking to the Revs for as long as possible. If they integrate us into their command structure and order us to move out somewhere or join an attack we could be in a lot of trouble. Better to sit still as long as we can.
I do think it's worth a try asking the twins if they can go get us a newspaper or some gossip about what's happening in the reich and the world at large. We never made use of that girl they offered us so I think they still owe us for our protection. Or if not maybe we can offer them a new favor in exchange.

>>3253695
>>It’s fine if we don’t know that much as long as other folks know just as little or less about us. We’ll keep laying low.

Funny how I said this would probably be the finale and now it's looking like I'll need just one more thread after this, but I guess that's Luft in general.

Anyways.

>>3253721
>>3254145
Get info, introduce self.

>>3253791
>>3254145
Questions and queries

>>3253939
>>3254885
>>3254891
Keep hidden and stay subtle for as long as possible, worked til now after all.

Right then, writing up.

Alrighty, here's the deal. At first, I had several pieces of a giga update that I was stitching together. Since I'll be playing a game for a lot of today, though, I've broken it up as for there to be, you know, actual stuff to do today. So that's the reason for the fat ass delay.

Anyways, time to get on that.

-----
The exfiltration had gone off without a hitch; one of the few things Colonel Talmeier could take pleasure after being the last to step off the last transport out. The Luftpanzers were extracted, as were all the men, but it wasn’t a successful mission, at least yet. There was something that made his ritual of being the last out feel empty, as well, in that he had had to leave men behind to finish the job. It had been a day; after the unit was reorganized and had all the equipment stored once more, it was time for him to deal with official business, so he had gone to his office to shut himself inside and prepare the necessary paperwork…and ready himself for a thorough flaying of his hide. Most of the Halmeggian Royal Family had been killed, and he well knew that somebody would have to take the fall, at least until the princess and prince were delivered, and even then…the first thing he had prepared was his letter of resignation, even if it likely wouldn’t be accepted in favor of throwing the Luftpanzer Project heads under the proverbial bus. They had plenty of competitors for funding, and the extremely expensive project’s continued funding practically depended on this mission being seen as a victory.

“Excuse me,” a young woman with short, scruffy black hair and green eyes, dressed boyishly save for a questionably short skirt, pushed her way into Talmeier’s office. Talmeier recognized her as Linda Falkenstein..? “You’re Colonel Talmeier. Captain Reinhold Roth-Vogel is one of your officers, yes?”

This wasn’t a guest that Talmeier had been expecting. His current pile of work was a harrowing enough prospect given the current status of the mission. What was Alphonse Falkenstein’s daughter doing here?

“I’m currently occupied.” Talmeier growled. “I don’t have time for any questions. Roth-Vogel is one of my officers, yes, but any further questions will have to-“
“Where is he?” Linda demanded next, slamming her hands on Talmeier’s desk and knocking three separate stacks of papers off of it, “Don’t screw with me, old man. I’ve asked everybody under you, and I know who’s come back and who didn’t. Nobody said he was dead, so you better start talking!”

“Young lady, Wing Commander Falkenstein may be an acquaintance of mine, but I do not care that he is your father. That information is classified, and even if you had addressed me politely, you would not be informed.”

“I know he’s in Halmeggia, you wrinkled up old prune,” Linda snarled, baring her gritted teeth, “Who the hell am I going to tell? I don’t care what he’s doing, but you’d better tell me where I can find him. I don’t need my father to tell me I can jump over this desk and kick your ass.”

That was quite enough. Wrinkled up old prune Colonel Talmeier might be, he was quite far from an invalid, and never one to take threats lying down. He stood up, walked calmly around his desk, and picked up Linda Falkenstein by her collar. “Out.” he said as he opened the door and planted her roughly (but a gentle sort of rough) into the bench in front of his office, her flailing the whole time. He looked to his right; a pair of his Fallschirmjäger. “You. Did you bring her here?”

“Uhh,” they both made stupid noises, but only one spoke further; they knew they were in the shit. “Colonel, sir, s-she said she was going to see you. Sir.”

“Nitwits.” Talmeier spat, “Escort this young lady out of the building.” Besides criticism, Talmeier wouldn’t punish them; their decision was understandable, if stupid and annoying.

”I’m not being escorted anywhere,” Miss Falkenstein declared. “Until-“

“Come with us, ma’am. Sorry.” The Fallschirmjäger quickly got to work, and even though Linda was a firebrand and certainly tough for a woman, the people motivating her to exit the building were among the peak of Reich soldiery, and but one of them was a match for any man, let alone two, against a young woman. Talmeier only stayed out long enough to make sure the men were doing the task assigned, before heading back inside and immediately dialing up Wing Commander Falkenstein on his telephone. He had to give the Gold Vengeance a message to keep his damned daughter on her leash.

-----

>Encounter Roll: 3, 3, 3 –Nothing of Note, N/A, N/A

“Couple of things I want your perspective on,” you raised a pair of fingers, then thought something more, and added another finger. “You haven’t happened to have heard the names of a few of the local Revolutionary commanders, have you? I feel like I ought to know them. It’d help to name drop them too for an idea I’ve got, to sort of act like a dispatch rider for them, dropping by, learning a few things, getting back out…”

Winnifred shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Confused unsecured radio traffic does not seem to be common among the Revolutionaries; perhaps because they lack much of the required equipment for it anyways. That is, unless you cared not for subtlety and decided that you were a personal dispatch for Colonel Avraz, since that name is one of the few being passed around, but by enemy propaganda as well.”

“The big cheese down south, I take it.” You mused, “So I suppose there’s no chance that he had an accident that would keep me from being his messenger?”

“Likely not,” Winnifred said, “But that role would not be a good disguise, since it would mean that you would have to pass yourself as a relatively influential person to come directly from Avraz, rather than one of his subordinates, who we unfortunately know little about. I would say that you would be better served by having such a messenger be from yourself. To add layers to your crafted persona.”

“Maybe.” You agreed a bit, “More depth is always good to have in a fake person. Yeah. You know,” you pulled your jacket off of Winnifred’s shoulders and went back to feeling up her upper arms, “I’ve heard Commander Strazzo’s quite a lady killer.”

“I’ve heard,” Winnifred said back, a slightly mischievous glint in her eye, “That he asks a woman’s permission to kiss them before he takes them.”

“Har har.” You muttered drily, alighting your fingers on the bicolored eyed lady’s shoulders once more. “Moving on. Any news on the capital? Is the lull over, or is everybody still sitting on their hands?”

“So far as I can tell, there is still a lull, yes.” Winnifred said airily, as though she had been hoping for different like you had. “Much posturing, little action. The AUSC claims to have begun their attack, but considering that other propaganda has not even acknowledged such, it is likely a small and inconsequential effort either on the outskirts, or just in the direction of them. As the conflict grows longer, the losses of yesterday sting more than they once did, after all, so the daring of previous actions cools when it is realized that their strength and position may not afford them room for mistakes.”

“I see. That’s a shame. Was sort of hoping the Revolutionaries might take a solid blow.” You sighed in resignation, “I suppose it can’t be helped. Can’t expect them to act stupid and brash after what’s happened to them. Last thing.” You raised two fingers and lowered one. “You don’t happen to know if Reichsport would be closed to outsiders, would you?”

“I don’t.” Winnifred said with no tone but utter flatness. “But I can come to simple conclusions. As an independent entity, its defense is probably hasty and disorganized, more an obstacle due to mass and terrain rather than any fearsome traits from the defenders themselves. Likewise, if what we have heard from our friends is correct…” you had relayed any valuable information to this information specialist, after all. “…Then the city is more concerned with powerful aristocracy and economic competition than infiltration, and in any case, it is a decently sized port city. There would be very little they could do to prevent people from coming in unofficially. Therefore, in spite of the roads in likely being well guarded, and them being unlikely to shelter armed individuals without confiscating said weaponry, Reichsport is hardly a walled city. If we absolutely had to take shelter within, we could do so quite easily.”

“Then that’s our backup plan,” you decided on the spot. “Until then, I guess we can ask our guests here if they can send somebody to at least pick up a newspaper. Damn though if front page space these days must be competitive, though.”

“Most certainly. Though.” Winnifred changed course, “The large group of Revolutionaries to the north. Do you have any plans for them?”

“Hm.” You thought for barely a second. “No. We lose out on exchanging information, sure but it’s fine that we don’t know that much as long as other folks know just as little or less about us. We’ll keep laying low; we should put off talking to the Revs for as long as possible, because I’ll bet my hide that as soon as we make ourselves known and properly integrate into their command structure, they’ll find something for us to do. I’d rather not do that, or at least, put off doing so for as long as possible.” Your hands wandered from Winnifred’s shoulders, to run down her clavicles. “You’ve got quite nice collarbones, you know. Very well defined. You’d absolutely kill it in something strapless.”

“Captain,” Winnifred turned her head to you, “I am close to concluding that you are avoiding the Revolutionaries so that you can spend more time flirting with me.”

>I’ll admit that you’re much more pleasant company. I wouldn’t jump in the sack with any Revolutionaries that I know.
>Is that a bad thing? I’ll stop if it is.
>It’s not as if there’s much else to do around here if hiding out works well. You have to be bored. How about we head to the city? Information gathering, of course.
>Other?