File: tcq_worldmap_DEC1932.png (2.3 MB, 3000x1702)

2.3 MB PNG

-----
Netillian Reduced Presence Zone R12, Southwestern Border Zone
-----

Damn it all. No escort, no transportation, not even an umbrella provided by command in this cloudburst, in the cold forest morning. It was winter, was it not? Yet it was pouring freezing rain. His dark green uniform was turned the hue of his black field cap from behind soaked through. This indignity, on a captain. Well, perhaps not a real captain. Captain Raley Kelwin had been appointed such after graduating from officer’s school, only a week before. He should have been a lieutenant second grade, but a double promotion had advanced his career greatly considering that he was only twenty years old (or membership in the Defense Party); at least, so he had thought. Yet here he was, walking to his assigned unit.

Maybe Kelwin should have been more grateful, he thought to himself. This would have been happening anyways, probably. Ellowian front garrisons were as short staffed as anybody in the Netillian army these days, and he’d apparently come at a bad time. Fuel shortages or something paralyzing anything but operations deemed necessary; reserved for tanks and armored transports, in other words. Manpower was similarly spread thin, as was equipment. Kelwin hadn’t even been issued a gun, such was the predicament. The army was apparently buying up all the weapons it could, in addition to deploying captured Ellowian arms, and yet…well, better for the shortages to be for now, he supposed, rather when there was an actual hot war being fought.

At the end of the path, through the mist, Kelwin finally spied a figure. A sentry? He approached eagerly. Even if it was an Ellowian insurgent, at least it was somebody. Better to be captured than to be shot from the trees. “Hello?” He called out, “Who are you?”

The figure had already seemed to have noticed him before he even called out, and approached without responding. Kelwin could tell immediately that they were armed, but they seemed a bit small for a soldier…as they came closer, the reason for such became clear. It was a blonde woman, in a black, fancy looking uniform that he didn’t recognize. It didn’t help that it was being worn completely improperly; it was completely unbuttoned and the person’s midsection was exposed; weren’t they cold? An ugly, deep scar ran across what would otherwise be a rather girlish face, and she clutched a submachinegun that looked far meaner than the person carrying it.

“The hell are you doing by yourself?” She demanded, and Kelwin was relieved that she spoke in a Strossvalder accent; the people he was to report to were from Strossvald. “Do you want to get killed by freedom fighters? Dumbass. Should have waited for somebody to get you. Shouldn’t have cared what whoever dumped you on the road said.”

“Well,” Kelwin hunched defensively, “The same could be said for you, you’re by yourself. I’m sure insurgents could find worse things to do to a young woman like yourself than me.”

The blonde scoffed. “They know better than to try to mess with me.” Her eyes flicked to Kelwin’s rank bars on his epaulettes. “You must be Captain Kelwin, unless there’s any other officers that high up and newbie enough to slouch through the woods alone.”

“I am,” Kelwn said, “I’m to report to a Von Tracht. Do you know him?”

Did the blonde girl roll her eyes? “Yeah. I’m his retinue. Toon Boss...er, Sergeant Nowicki.”

“Retinue?” Kelwin squinted. “What does that mean?”

“It means you shut up and listen to what I say because my word is his. Usually. But don’t let anybody tell you different. Come on, you’ve got places to be and paperwork to do.” She muttered something about fucking paperwork under her breath as she turned and started walking.

“I can’t say you were what I was expecting…” Kelwin pointed out.

“What, that I’m a girl? Don’t get excited, it’s not normal. Von Tracht isn’t normal, I’m not normal. You’re sort of just stepping into a whole lot of not normal, really.”

“…Well that, yes, but…” Kelwin wasn’t sure if it’d be rude or not to point out, “You’re a bit roughed up, aren’t you?”

“Hah!” the woman laughed a sharp bark, “You think I’m bad, wait ‘til you see…nothin’, nevermind. Anyways. That’s not important. You know anything about the outfit you’re sitting in the chair of?”

“The what?”

“Your unit. The people I’m taking you to. C’mon. I know about them, obviously, but I wanna know what you know.”

Oh, right.

>13th Guards Infantry Battalion “Brass Gauntlet”-Mechanized Infantry: Heavily equipped with both heavy weapons and armored transports; but not particularly large of a unit. Rowdy foot unit that is at least trained. Political officers ensure procurement priority but may be a pain in some situations.
>Company is 3 platoons of 4 squads of 12, including vehicle crew. Ill-disciplined soldiers may cause fear but also resentment among local population if not well controlled; discipline of misbehaving soldiers in this unit is handled by political officers rather than commanding officers. Notable equipment are the Sturmwagen-2 Armored Assault Transports used by some mechanized infantry units; a new sort of vehicle proof against bullets and shell fragments made to both transport and fight alongside its infantry.

>5th Combined Infantry Battalion “Midland Rangers”-Light Infantry: Numerous, decently equipped. Raised from militia and inexperienced but well-disciplined and receptive to authority. Assimilation Program Unit status allows use of local recruits and repatriated Ellowian soldiery.
>Company is 4 platoons of 5 squads of 15. One of these platoons starts composed of Repatriated Ellowians; more squads or platoons may be granted as reinforcements over time separate from normal reinforcement.

>22nd Penal Battalion “Broken Souls”-Penal Company: Talented and battle hardened, but ill-disciplined and poorly equipped. Bottom of priority for resupply and procurement, but never a shortage of experienced reinforcements.
>Company is 4 platoons of 4 squads of 10. More squads or platoons may arrive to reinforce formation outside of normal procurement. Ill-disciplined soldiers may cause fear but also resentment among local population if not well controlled.

>12th Armored Cavalry Battalion “Blue Knights”-Armored Cavalry: Smallest unit, mostly equipped with armored cars and tanks, assembled piecemeal from captured Ellowian materiel. A new and inexperienced formation, but one made up of people that shouldn’t give trouble.
>Company is 3 platoons of 4 vehicles, whose crew range from 2 to 4, each with one squad of 7 infantrymen attached. Warning: Low numbers mean that control over assigned area will be very difficult to obtain without procuring aid or support of local population.

The choice of company will be who Von Tracht will be accompanying for the duration of his mission to Netillian-occupied Ellowie. Each has their advantages and disadvantages. I'm sure you'll have many questions, and I'll answer what I can, but be patient for some things; it'll come in due time. A lot of time will be spent setting things up, after all. I would urge to select based off of what you think would be cool or neat rather than tactical expediency for this.

Past Threads are collected here: https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and various horseshit is @scheissfunker

Welcome back to Richter town, everybody.

>>3407669
>>12th Armored Cavalry Battalion “Blue Knights”-Armored Cavalry: Smallest unit, mostly equipped with armored cars and tanks, assembled piecemeal from captured Ellowian materiel. A new and inexperienced formation, but one made up of people that shouldn’t give trouble.
>>Company is 3 platoons of 4 vehicles, whose crew range from 2 to 4, each with one squad of 7 infantrymen attached. Warning: Low numbers mean that control over assigned area will be very difficult to obtain without procuring aid or support of local population.
Seems the most reasonable since we're tankers. What do we know about training infantrymen?
Also good to be back.

>>3407669
>>5th Combined Infantry Battalion “Midland Rangers”-Light Infantry: Numerous, decently equipped. Raised from militia and inexperienced but well-disciplined and receptive to authority. Assimilation Program Unit status allows use of local recruits and repatriated Ellowian soldiery.
>>Company is 4 platoons of 5 squads of 15. One of these platoons starts composed of Repatriated Ellowians; more squads or platoons may be granted as reinforcements over time separate from normal reinforcement.

>>3407669
>5th Combined Infantry Battalion “Midland Rangers”-Light Infantry
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WE'RE BACK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

>>3407669
>>5th Combined Infantry Battalion “Midland Rangers”-Light Infantry: Numerous, decently equipped. Raised from militia and inexperienced but well-disciplined and receptive to authority. Assimilation Program Unit status allows use of local recruits and repatriated Ellowian soldiery.


Glad you’re back!

.>22nd Penal Battalion “Broken Souls”-Penal Company

Penal unit sounds fun as hell.

Glad to be back tonking.

Write time.

>>3407699
Armored Cav. Because we prefer our company to be angular and metallic.

>>3407793
Malcontents and miscreants! What could go wrong?

>>3407710
>>3407716
>>3407719
Diversity hires unit. Hiring local has its perks, after all.

Seems it's the 5th Combined Infantry Battalion for you lot, then. Writing.

Mech elites just not worth dealing with the commissariat, hm? Hopefully you can keep them out of your business...

We back boys.

“I’m with the Fifth Combined Infantry Battalion, er, first company.” Kelwin answered the woman; Kelwin wasn’t a tall man by any means, but this woman was quite short- he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or intimidated. “They’re part of something called the Assimilation Program. There’s Ellowian recruits and former soldiers wrapped up in the formation, and eventually, they’ll be turned over to High Protector Wladysaw XI’s Gendarmes. Otherwise, it’s a normal light infantry battalion otherwise, as far as I know.”

The girl squinted at him. “…So tell me, I never hear it straight, ain’t the guy supposed to be King Wladysaw XI? Not that I care. No king of mine, and from what I hear, not the king of anything.”
“I have only heard of him as High Protector under the Military Council.” Kelwin confessed, “I don’t think the Generals mind what he calls himself. As far as I’ve heard, he is the royal heir, but the throne was dismantled…some time ago.”

“Huh.” Sergeant Nowicki turned her nose up. “Good for him, I guess. C’mon. Let’s get going. This rain sucks and I want to get out of it.” She started leading Kelwin along. “Hey, y’know what happened to the last guy? Last captain of this company, at least.”

“I don’t. Did something bad happen to him?”

“Yeah.” The girl smiled a malicious, pearly grin as she turned to look at him, “He pissed off the Ellowians too much, and they caught him alone. They cut off his hands and burned him alive in a barrel.”
Kelwin felt himself go pale in spite of himself. “…Really?”

“Pffhehehe,” the girl laughed, “Fuck no. I’m screwing with you. He went off the path and tumbled over a tripwire mine.” She continued on, at a quicker pace. “Watch your step.”

-----

The first couple of weeks in occupied Ellowie had been mind-numbing chaos. Endless briefings, introductions, assignments, and piles upon piles of paperwork you were perfectly trained for and capable of filling out, but had grown comfortable in not needing to in your extraordinary circumstances earlier in the year. After that, though, things had settled down enough to relax a bit, though the situation was still a complex snow flurry such that you were thankful you had subordinates to delegate thinking power to. The Netillian Army, as it turned out, was so short on trained officers that your role as “advisor” included properly commanding and training troops, and the unit you had been assigned was as green as could be, technically not even done undergoing training but shipped off to the front regardless, for what it was. The Ellowians had been defeated (supposedly; you’d heard quite a significant portion of their armed forces managed to escape into Sosaldt), and besides rare insurgent activity and misunderstandings with Twaryians on occasion, there had been a shortage of danger to be distracted by. Each day had faded into a series of chores, exercises, and automatic routine, like you had returned to basic training, only occasionally broken up by the odd raid or call for reinforcement in watching over the locals. However, you’d heard that that would be changing soon enough; as matters settled, the Ellowians were quickly finding out that their new overlords had plans for them that they were far from approving of. More on that later, though. Much more; the political situation was…interesting. Both for Netilland itself and this occupied territory.

Spare time was spent with your crews, your officers; you’d finally begun to learn the names of those who inhabited the other tanks under your subordinate officers, relatively few as they were. They had always been there, but circumstances had always been such that it was simpler to identify them by their commanding officer as though each tank were a single organism and each crewman was but an arm of leg. Time was also spent instructing your scarred markswoman, Hilda, on how to read and write in New Nauk. It had come to be time you slightly dreaded; Hilda would do her best, but seemed distracted by her attraction to you; attraction you never tried to dissuade, and perhaps made worse through that, but when you looked at her wounds, the darkness of her presence-burns, and the dying light in her eyes that you’d come to learn was ever present sadness, what could you do but take pity upon her?

Hilda had grown violently ill as of late; you’d taken her to a doctor and been informed that, while hardly healthy, she was merely going through morning sickness. It had been a possibility for some time, and Hilda had never told you, but the doctor confirmed that Hilda was indeed pregnant. You didn’t know how to feel about this. Emma, a wisp that had become a rather constant, if moody companion, never failed to lash out at you concerning Hilda; it had become the only reason she would even appear before you, as she refused to take up smaller requests.

“I’m not some errand boy or your dumb minion!” She snapped after you’d asked her to observe some of the Netillian NCOs of the units you were minding. “Go stalk them yourself!” She’d floated away in a huff. Being a spirit, there was hardly anything you could do to punish her, besides maybe shutting her in a can- at least, for a time. This land was different, very different, and was practically crawling with spirits, especially during the night time; Emma herself was beginning to change, and at present, you found to your dread that she no longer fit in the can like she used to…she was relegated to being shut indoors, where you thought, she might be less affected by the ambient Presence swirling about. Why was Ellowie such a place of spiritual power? You didn’t know, and hadn’t sought the answers to why. You merely assumed that, like Salzbrucke, it was because it had undergone a period of suffering and death. Or perhaps the country was just in a funny place.

You had been attached to a light infantry unit; though hardly your forte, as mentioned before, Netilland was demanding and not picky, so you had assumed command, helping new officers who were often as old as you were or only a bit older to learn the ropes and hopefully turn into something approaching a competent commander. Were you a competent enough commander to teach them, you wondered. Maybe, maybe not, either way, it wasn’t like that was your true mission here. As far as the Netillians were concerned, though, you were there to help, so appearances must needs be catered to.

Your tank platoon itself was treated more as a quick reaction force than the spearhead you were used to. With fuel carefully rationed, the preferred method of transport was bicycle or foot, though you did have a staff car on call for if you needed to make a visit to a place further off. Even with the lack of activity, though, the tanks had been through a wringer over the past month and a half. They weren’t tanks you were used to; they were captured Valsten prototypes, and when something broke down, the solution was often creative. You were frankly shocked they still could be made to work at all, but as was said, necessity was the mother of invention.

File: newplatoon.jpg (158 KB, 734x1000)

158 KB JPG

>Current Tank Platoon status: 3 crews, 5 tanks
>Tank Motor Pool-
>X-01: Twin 20mm armed support tank
>X-11: 80mm howitzer armed support tank
>X-12: 50mm armed tank
>X-21: 50mm armed tank
>X-22: 50mm armed tank

They were deemed the X series, mostly due to lack of other names for them. As far as you had been told, they were unique vehicles, for better or worse; that had let you have some say in how they were armed.

The X-01 was currently broken down. It had an unusual shape among the tanks, oddly round from what appeared to be from cast armor. That had little to do with its inner workings, but its armament meant that it was often specifically requested for; it had an intimidating effect on protesting crowds in the local Transition Center…ah, the Transition centers.

The Transition Centers- Ubergangszentrum (UGZ) were, for lack of a better term, slum cities. One of Netilland’s many lofty plans was to settle their people in Ellowian lands to get it both productive and stable in a shorter amount of time. However, the profitable land often had the trouble of having people living on it. Similarly, Ellowian vagrants were rounded up and tossed into the UGZs. They weren’t too terrible to live in, from what you saw, but even a disinterested party would hear of the frequent shortages of food and supplies, and the abuses of the garrisons watching over the UGZs. The UGZ local to you was UGZ-09, unofficially known as Ackersdol. It wasn’t actually near to you, which was a good thing, but it was the official UGZ to the sector, which meant that you had had to go there more than you liked. Which was more than once.

The UGZs were also where more than a few of the Ellowian volunteers in the unit you were watching over had come from. The 5th Combined Infantry Battalion, dubbed the “Midland Rangers”- a romantic name, and the soldiers had enough heart to be pleasant to be around, though they were new to war, but thankfully, were just as eager to learn. One of the four platoons in the company was made up of Ellowians- you had nothing personal against Ellowians, Strossvald had always had an interest in Ellowie’s well-being, since they did a fantastic job of distracting Netilland until recently. However, they and the Netillians were frequently abrasive towards one another. The most concerning event had been a pair of murders of Netillian troopers in the company, whose culprit had never been found, but was all but certainly, according to rumor, one of “those Ellowians.” At least they weren’t as much a headache as you had heard of the Penal troopers being. That, and Ellowians in the unit made the locals at least a little more trusting of you; quite the boon when one of the primary enemies were insurgents.

These designs are a bit outdated, but I'm not quite done with the models yet- thus these are subject to change, but are mostly as they actually are.

So many issues, so many upcoming events. So much to think about, even though ever since coming back from Sosaldt, you felt that your mind wasn't...all there. Like something had slowed down inside. Your instincts, your reflexes, they had all...faded, somehow. You were still putting together problems in your head when Anya burst into your office tent with a Netillian officer in tow; a short, meek looking man, in spite of the status his shoulder boards hinted at.

“This is the latest fresh meat,” your blonde, cutface tomboy retinue pushed him forward, “Captain Kelwin.”

The officer, in spite of outranking you, seemed to know the present situation- that you were all but his superior, in spite of rank difference, and he held out a hand to shake, though he didn’t salute. You peered at the hand, then at him.

Then at Anya’s stomach. In spite of having obtained a uniform; a special one for Retinues, a black jacket and pants with knee high boots and a spiffy cap, Anya brazenly wore her jacket open, exposing her midriff. When you had complained that she was out of uniform, she sneered at you that you were lucky she was following the dress codes as closely as she was already.

Though maybe you liked it better this way.

Kelwin coughed politely, and you looked back at him.

>Take his hand and shake it. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. (Even if you are a Netillian brute.)
>You haven’t known this man near long enough to be his friend. Salute instead.
>Tell Kelwin to get lost. He can have Von Metzeler show him around.
>Other?

>>3408033
>>Take his hand and shake it. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. (Even if you are a Netillian brute.)

>>3408033
>>Take his hand and shake it. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. (Even if you are a Netillian brute.)

>>3408033
>>Take his hand and shake it. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. (Even if you are a Netillian brute.)

>>3408033
>>Take his hand and shake it. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. (Even if you are a Netillian brute.)

>>3407625
I hate the new tank.

But I'm glad it's back in time for Christmas.

>>3408033
>You haven’t known this man near long enough to be his friend. Salute instead.
He's not a cute girl guys.

Well sweet shit i didn't mean to fall on the ground and die.

>>3408040
>>3408067
>>3408073
>>3408090
Well howdy, partner!

>>3408116
Ew cooties

Writing finally. I'll try and make up for lost time from sudden onset comas.

>>3408093
They're all pretty ugly but there's set to be no shortage of potential alternatives in appropriated gear land

>>3408494
>They're all pretty ugly but there's set to be no shortage of potential alternatives in appropriated gear land
Rear turrets look better on heavy tanks desu.

>>3408500
Maybe we could string some garlands on them and paint colorful murals on the hulls to make them look better?

>>3408512
Pls don't bully, this is a safe space.

>>3408494
Maybe hate is harsh but still this is NTRing M-32 chan.

What are we doing about Hilda guys? We shouldn't be sending a pregnant woman into combat even if it is this early.

Kelwin’s hand was gripped firmly and shaken; it was funny to think about how readily you were doing this, really. It wasn’t very long ago that Netillians were thought of as more likely an enemy than not; they were warlike simpletons, controlled by tyrants that had made a mockery of a system that claimed to be an instrument of liberty for its people; a “republic” ruled by a Military Council of generals, with no claims in blood nor antiquity or anything save for spiteful greed for power. Yet when somebody smiled so earnestly and reached out as if to make a friend rather than to meet a superior…perhaps you couldn’t help but feel pleased that somebody was doing this in such a genuine fashion. It wasn’t as if anybody had treated you like in the academy.

“A pleasure to be working with you,” you said to Kelwin, who seemed incredibly relieved that you had responded favorably to his gesture, “I am Lieutenant…Coordinator Richter Von Tracht.”

“I have heard of you,” Kelwin continued holding onto your hand. “You have some reputation, believe it or not. In the south word has spread of the rogue officer who laid Todesfelsen low.”
“Yeah, alright,” Anya interjected, “That was a team effort, I’ll have you know.”

What Anya said was certainly true, but having your ego stroked was pleasurable as could be expected. Especially since lately…with the inglorious nature of your work (and Anya putting you on your ass in training every morning) as well as your odd flagging in both talent and nerve, you hadn’t been feeling very good about yourself. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been pleased about being referred to as a rogue, but technically, your trial for desertion had been merely put on hold rather than resolved. The Archduchy’s Intelligence Office cared little about your current legal status, and Netilland didn’t care at all- hell, if you were actually part of Netilland’s army as a native, you would probably find yourself dragged out of the Dissident camps anyways for how badly leadership was needed in their swelling army.

“Of course it was,” Kelwin spoke defensively of his praise, “But…well, you don’t really hear of the other names on the grapevine.”

“All of the people under my direct command here participated in that battle,” you shared with Kelwin. “I will introduce you to them, if you like. The firebrand next to you is Miss Anya Nowicki.”

“Sergeant.” Anya corrected.

“She is my Retinue, who by my authority and that of the Archduke carries the influence of a non-commissioned officer.” It also meant that the state was responsible for Anya’s salary; a good thing, too, because she was a stickler about actually getting money; as she continued to claim, she was a mercenary, after all. “…Thus, if she requests you call her Sergeant, she has the power to demand such.” You had no similar obligation. You stood up, finally wrenching your hand free of Kelwin’s eager grip, “I will introduce you to my second in command, Lieutenant Von Metzeler, and my subordinate officer, Junior Lieutenant Krause. As for the officers of your unit themselves, I will leave such to First Sergeant Tiedtchien.”

First Sergeant Tiedtchien was a former penal soldier who had made his way back to his original unit, this one, after having won a pardon from being wounded in the war that resulted in Ellowie’s current occupation. He was a man who was like a sharp stone whose edges had been ground down by tumbling in the sands of a river for years, hard yet smooth as pearl. You wouldn’t have called him particularly bright, but he was experienced and did not hesitate to follow commands, even if the ideas he took his own initiative on were oft simplistic and predictable.

“If it’s all the same,” Anya said, her eyes following you as you walked around your desk, “I’m going to go take a walk.”

What Anya referred to was facetious; what she actually was doing when she “took walks” was meet with a local insurgency group that she had managed to charm. A group of militant war orphans, that she must have seen a bit of herself in. She had, as she described after meeting them and impressing them, “kept from dying like retarded idiots.” Maybe it had been because of her brusque nature, maybe it was because her name and blood was Ellowian (even if she had been born and raised in Sosaldt), maybe it was because, in her own way, she was…it discomforted you to think about it.

>>3408561
>Petty morality
Hilda is so autistic she will probably try and and keep fighting no matter what Richter says, like she's done since forever. I guess if it comes to bullets flying we order her to stay back though.

Eventually, in your time here, you had to admit to yourself that something about Anya had caught your special attention. Was she attractive? In your mind, well, yes, but that alone wasn’t that special, especially since her face had been hacked in half. Yet even that was interesting. Anya certainly teased you enough about being distracted by her midsection, but really, you had eventually decided, there was just something fulfilling in having a rival. Competition that inspired you, that drove you, especially in these times after the crusade to Sosaldt that had left your head feeling empty, with memories and instinct fleeing your head in ways that you couldn’t understand. Or maybe you just missed your fiancée and projected her onto petite women, but Anya and Maddalyn were as different as night and day.

“You’re spacing out.” Anya pointed out. As far as you knew, she wasn’t nearly as distracted by you, though you did wonder why she lingered around you; it surely wasn’t just the money. Then, what?

>I changed my mind. Captain Kelwin, I’ll have Lieutenant Von Metzeler show you around. I need to take a walk, too. (Visit the locals)
>Sorry. Come, Captain. Let’s show you around. (Meet with officers)
>Actually, we should loosen up a little. Celebrate your arrival, make you feel welcome in this strange new land. (Go to Netillian Colony town)
>Other concerns/questions?
There’s a lot to process, so this is to sort of space things out. At this point, though, you can start freely asking questions; Richter knows plenty about what’s going on, after all, and it wouldn’t be fair for you to be in the dark about anything he knows, since, technically, you ARE him. By proxy.

>>3408561
This sort of question is indeed worth asking! Though she's currently out at the moment, so if you want to meet with her, it'll have to be later.

>>3408564
>Not wanting a pregnant woman and her child to die in combat is a 'petty morality'

Only in PCQ folks. It's why she's burned and pregnant in the first place.

She'll follow our orders (note that this means our direct orders and not through some intermediary) so yeah we should probably not have her fight.

>>3408565
>Sorry. Come, Captain. Let’s show you around. (Meet with officers)

>>3408565
>>Sorry. Come, Captain. Let’s show you around. (Meet with officers)

>>3408565
>>Sorry. Come, Captain. Let’s show you around. (Meet with officers)

>>3408568
Hildas aren't people, pal.

>>3408568
>>3408573
>>3408606
Talking with your officers.

Writing now.

>>3408568
Don’t tell me you arnt at least a little interested to see Hilda go full The Boss.

>>3408565
>>Sorry. Come, Captain. Let’s show you around. (Meet with officers)
>Pls exposit on the threat posted by Ellowian resistance fighters or insurgents in the area

>>3408565
how long have we been in nettiland training dudes
also how do nettilander uniforms look

“Sorry.” You apologized furtively, “Come, Captain. Let’s show you around.” You took Kelwin out of your office tent; it was the heart of the company command camp, but it was an empty, lonesome place, since in spite of your increased responsibilities you weren’t actually allocated aides. Thusly Anya had been delegated paperwork, much to her chagrin. It wasn’t as if there was anybody else to serve that purpose; Hilda still lacked the literacy let alone reading level to be helpful with clerical duties, so Anya’s surprisingly good education worked against her. You’d never seen a more hateful expression on the scarred blonde’s face than when she had to pore over reports and inventories; you knew she was probably more comfortable in a tank (especially given her small size, she was actually very well suited to such), but what were you going to do, make Krause do all the paperwork? Heaven forbid you do it all yourself. Maybe you could dump it off on Kelwin. The last Captain wouldn’t hear of it…

“She seems rather abrasive.” Kelwin said when you were out of the tent and Anya had gone her separate way. “Do you have history?”

“To say the least.” Your first meeting with Anya had ended with punching her in the face. She had laughed at that. Now she routinely beat the stuffing out of you in her efforts to train you to be better at close quarters combat; something you were shamefully inept at, but her tutelage had resulted in some progress, you figured.
>Melee/CQC stat has increased from 1 to 2

“She has a Strossvalder accent.” Kelwin pointed out. “But an Ellowian name.”

“She was raised by a Strossvalder, I think.” You weren’t sure how old Anya was when she had been adopted by your uncle. She indicated that she might have been ten or eleven, but she didn’t actually know. That she didn’t know her age disturbed you somewhat, though it was understandable given where she was born and raised. “She’s from Sosaldt.”

“Ah.” Kelwin nodded to himself, “That explains much.”

“Doesn’t it?” Yet not nearly enough.

“My oldest brother ran off to Sosaldt when the Military Council took power.” Kelwin shared, “Haven’t heard from him since.”

“I’ve never met anybody who shared your name there, I’m afraid.” You preempted the young Captain.

Kelwin chuckled morosely. “Oh, nah, you wouldn’t have met him, I bet. I was just saying. He’s probably been dead for years.” You kept on walking. “If I may ask, what made you go rogue?”

“A woman.” Krause had told you that that was a cool sounding thing to say. ”A midget.” Anya had corrected immediately after the first time you’d said it, but she wasn’t here to flip this retelling on its head.

“She must have been something.”

“…Yeah.” You hadn’t corresponded with your fiancée at all; you’d been distracted, and the Netillians weren’t willing to send any mail from you; intelligence concerns, they cited. Maybe you hadn’t been trying enough, yet, no mail had come for you either… “There. That’s Lieutenant Von Metzeler.” You pointed to the tall and broad man who was your second in command. You had retained your goggles and scarf from Sosaldt, and similarly, Rondo Von Metzeler had retained his checkered kerchief. All of the platoon had left that place changed, and they carried mementos of such.

Von Metzeler wasn’t happy with this assignment. He had made no secret between the two of you that he despised Netilland, he very much disliked being the “iron gauntlet to oppress the vanquished,” and he thought Netillian policy decisions he had caught wind of were utterly unjust, and thus revolting.

You had asked him then if he would rather not be here, then.

“I have a debt to your person, Von Tracht.” Von Metzeler had said then, stiffly as ever. “That debt is twofold that Junior Lieutenant Krause still lives. I have a debt to you, and a debt to Lady Von Blum to keep you well in your hour of most dire need. No matter how ugly I find this place and its rulers, I shall endure until my debts are paid.”

Rather overdramatic, you thought, but then, Von Metzeler seemed a fan of such.

When you approached with Kelwin, Von Metzeler was waving some of his crew of; from snippets of conversation, they had invited their superior to get breakfast from the company kitchen (Von Metzeler got along much better with his crew than most nobility did, notably; perhaps better than you did your own), but the Lieutenant had noticed you approaching and pointed them off, before standing to face you and Captain Kelwin with his arms behind his back.

“Coordinator Von Tracht.” Von Metzeler saluted to you.

The gesture was returned. “Lieutenant Von Metzeler. This is the company’s replacement commander, Captain Kelwin.” Captain Kelwin saluted.

Von Metzeler narrowed his eyes at the Netillian, but saluted as well. “May you fare better than your predecessor.”

“What a thing to say to the man!” you heard Junior Lieutenant Krause call over; all of you turned your heads to see the mustachioed, short and lean officer traipse over with his hands in his pockets, slightly bent over, a cigarette still glowing in his mouth. You wouldn’t have called yourself roguish, but time spent with Krause had taught you that the Junior Lieutenant would have reveled in the descriptor. He had a knack for circumventing requisition troubles…though only for things he felt like.

Anya, for example, desperately wanted a new Netillian weapon she had borne witness to, called a Munitions Caster. It was something like a small, handheld mortar; or rather, a grenade launcher, often employed in riot suppression, you’d heard, as an effective delivery system of tear gas. The new military variant was based off of earlier designed, and had a larger payload, as well as a heftier kick, but they were also for special issue only. If you wanted to get Anya a gift, you knew what she wanted most, but good luck getting one of those with the unit you were with. Maybe if you had more political connections…or if Krause could be motivated to give a damn about getting things that weren’t wine and cigarettes.

“Hello, new captain,” Krause bowed, then remembered what he was and saluted instead. “I am Junior Lieutenant Frederick Krause, the lowliest officer of Von Tracht’s fine platoon. What is your name?”

“Oh.” Kelwin brightened after having been cowed by Von Metzeler’s glowering, “I’m Raley. Raley Kelwin.”

“Captain Kelwin.” Von Metzeler corrected.

“…Eh.”

“Welcome to the Border Gap, Captain Raley Kelwin,” Krause leaned back and swept an arm over the horizon, “The only strip of land where the locals are friendly, the quartermasters generous, and the people across the border always happy to see you. I’m kidding, of course. The Ellowians hate you, even the ones in this unit, Requisition is an pain in the ass, and that’s just to avoid upsetting the Twaryians down south who hate both our guts and the Ellowians too no matter what we do. They also like coming over to this side of the border anyways. I don’t know why we bother, really.”

“The…Border Gap?” Kelwin asked.

“The Reduced Presence Zone.” You explained.

From the new border between Netilland and Twaryi, part of the peace treaty stipulations declared the establishment of a Reduced Military Presence Zone extending fifteen kilometers from the border into both country’s occupied territories; out of the bombardment range of most medium sized artillery pieces. Within what had been called the Border Gap, there was a cap set upon how many troops may be deployed and how many supplies enter the area. This supposedly appeased the Twaryians- yet it also made the Border Gap a favorite place for insurgencies to gather to both gain strength and avoid detection.

That said, in spite of stories you’d heard elsewhere, insurgents had been laying low around your sector. Maybe it was because Anya was in contact with a group of them, or maybe it was because your unit had Ellowians in it, so you weren’t a priority target. You had participated in raids, sure, but that was in helping other units. Your actual designated territory was frightfully peaceful, though only a fool would go out alone and unarmed.

You explained the last part to Kelwin and, oddly, he frowned at that.

“…It sounds too good to be true.”

“Which means it probably is,” Von Metzeler said, “You are still a Netillian and the people here Ellowian. If you forget you are surrounded by enemies then you had best be prepared to be reminded, swiftly.”

“Urp.” The captain was once again intimidated, but what Von Metzeler said was true- the Ellowians had plenty of reasons to be upset, and perhaps the only distraction from such was the Twaryians.

“It’s only understandable,” you shared your thoughts, “After all, considering the history between Ellowie and its neighbors-“

“Stop.” Von Metzeler cut you off. He looked to Kelwin. “I will make a very long story short for Von Tracht. The Ellowians served the First Kaiser, Alexander, when he made his conquest of Sosalia, in return for their autonomy within the new Reich. Surely you know how this has affected their reputation with their neighbors. This is exponentially moreso for the Twaryians, and yet, the Netillians appear to not be being any more merciful.”

“I am in no place to criticize strategic decisions,” Kelwin muttered, “…Is there a Kommissariat officer assigned to this unit?”

“No.” Von Metzeler said simply. “They are unnerved by Ellowian volunteers. Political appointees are easy to intimidate if you are a man who would not blink to cut them down in spite and lose nothing.”

“One visits every week or so to check up anyways.” Krause told him, “He’s an ass clown. Thankfully, he can’t do anything to us unless he wants to mess with the archduchy. Though maybe you keep on your toes.”

“I would rather not my friends and family be further harassed by the Anti-Sedition Department,” Kelwin said morosely, “Do understand.”

“Of course.” You looked to Von Metzeler…then on further consideration, looked to Krause. “Will you take Kelwin to the First Sergeant so he can be properly acquainted with his actual unit?” Krause saluted and did so, leaving you and Von Metzeler by yourselves. “You have not eaten breakfast yet?”

Von Metzeler nodded. “I will join my men in short order. I trust you will so the same with yours?”

>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits. (Anything you want to discuss/catch up with our crew?)
>I’m afraid not. I have to go find Hilda. She’s been out for longer than I’d like.
>I’m going to visit the Ellowian platoon, actually. I need to talk to Lieutenant Wielzci and make sure Kelwin doesn’t accidentally trip over a landmine. (Anything you’d like to bring up with the Ellowians, as well?)
>Other?

>>3408729
>>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits.

>>3408700
>how long have we been in netilland training dudes
Just over a month and a week or so.
>also how do netillander uniforms look
Gray green tunics with darker trousers and black hats/helmets. I'll have a uniform reference out...I want to say tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I am done writing for now, will resume at 3PM EST tomorrow.

>>3408729
>I’m afraid not. I have to go find Hilda. She’s been out for longer than I’d like.

>>3408729
>>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits.
Bring the crew their breakfast like good housewife we are. Ask what the buzz around the place is like from a boot on the ground's perspective. See if they don't have any complaints we can chase up while we've got the weight to throw around
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrAJX9ntk4g.

>>3408794
+1

>>3408729
>>I’m afraid not. I have to go find Hilda. She’s been out for longer than I’d like.

>>3408669
This isn't Metal Gear nor is Hilda strong like the Boss. That kind of situation would get her and the people around her killed.

>>3408729
>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits. (Anything you want to discuss/catch up with our crew?)

How are they getting along with the men of the battalion?

>>3408727
Is it just me, or has Krause's demeanor changed?

>>3408729
>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits.

>>3408729
>Sure. They’re certainly never impartial to bacon and biscuits. (Anything you want to discuss/catch up with our crew?)

Should we tell them we haven’t been feeling well in case it gets worse, or do we maintain an illusion of lordly resilience?

>”A midget.” Anya had corrected immediately after the first time you’d said it
Anya is like two inches taller.

>Von Metzeler wasn’t happy with this assignment. He had made no secret between the two of you that he despised Netilland
The MC we should have been, but didn't deserve to be.

>>3408729
>I’m going to visit the Ellowian platoon, actually. I need to talk to Lieutenant Wielzci and make sure Kelwin doesn’t accidentally trip over a landmine.
Oh well, I doubt this will make any kind of dark horse race to the finish line, but we should tell them that Kelwin is a young goi who probably dindu nuffin to no one. Of course that should be put in a more Richter way, like telling them Kelwin's life story and the recent history of Netilland informing them how young and inexperienced he is, in the nonthreatening way, not the toothless way.

File: tcq_netillianinfantryman_(...).jpg (79 KB, 493x1000)

79 KB JPG

>3PM EST
Or 5 PM EST, as it goes, I guess. What's the difference. Feh.

Anyways.

>>3408736
>>3408794
>>3408803
>>3408923
>>3409036
Crew time.

>>3408905
>>3408759
Hilda

>>3409939
"Volunteers"

Writin'.

>>3409036
>Is it just me, or has Krause's demeanor changed?
Perhaps. A brush with death helps one loosen up some.

>Anya is like two inches taller.
Two inches taller than a midget!

Anyways, this is what a typical Netillian infantryman looks like, armed with a Grunsen Model 1905- which is a copy of the last generation Reich rifle; a single, egg shaped grenade would likely be clipped on wherever it could fit. This uniform, helmet, and weapon is standard for the "old model" army, which is currently undergoing reform; the 5th Combined Infantry is equipped to this standard. Units higher on rearming priority will have such differences as having the new model helmet; a more oblong shaped helm, a camouflage pattern uniform, and potentially one of many new weapons that Netilland is buying up in droves to equip their growing swarm of troops.

For a large part, though, "old reliable" here is the standard of the Netillian Army.

>>3410077
Does anyone still have uniforms that are vibrant bright gay blue like the French in WWI?

>>3410077
Just to check, we're effectively the battalion commander right? Unless we've delegated it to some Netillian like we did in Sosaldt.

File: ararestateofbeinginproper(...).jpg (81 KB, 640x1000)

81 KB JPG

>>3410089
It's more a dull blue, but Strossvald actually had blue uniforms. However, that's only for the infantry; tankers wear greys and blacks.

As do Noble Retinue, shown here. However, this particular one would never actually be wearing it like shown here.

>>3410157
Company commander. Technically, Captain Kelwin is the actual company commander, but you get to boss him around since he's too new to know much and your (stated) purpose is to be an "advisor."

“I will.” You told Von Metzeler. “They’ve never been impartial to bacon and biscuits, and neither have I.” Said bacon was so incredibly wet and greasy most of the time that the biscuit was needed to clean up after it, but in spite of the ingredient quality the kitchens hadn’t failed to provide; but some variety more often would have been sorely appreciated.

“Then I will see you there.”

-----

Your crew had been haplessly brought along on this mission; not that they had objected. As they were typically riding around inside of a tank in an environment where there was little if any anti-tank weaponry or heavy explosives being used by the enemy, perhaps they thought themselves to be little at risk. However, the environment hadn’t agreed with all of them. In particular, your driver, Malachi, caught more than his fair share of flak from the Netillians. Apparently, they didn’t think much of “mossheads,” and their government felt the same way about them, considering them suspicious. You’d heard tell that it wouldn’t have been unusual for him to be questioned, but any attempt at official harassment of your mountain man driver had been blocked by you.

It was true that he seemed suspicious to most, given that he hid his face at all times, and on top of that, clutches of vagrants passed to and fro throughout Ellowie, largely consisting of green haired wanderers. The Netillian Army considered them suspicious, naturally, but stopped short of detaining any without proper reason- were it that they knew what you did, what they were really up to, because it certainly had to do with Soulbinders- “Wizard Bullshit” as Hans had dubbed it.

Once, you had forebodingly felt the telltale tingle of a soulbinder being nearby, but neither they nor their Oblitares enemies cared to drag people they thought unrelated to their conflict into said shadow war. Something you were immensely grateful for- and another reason to keep Emma inside. You dreaded the day that they or your less sorcerous allies came to bother you.

Less on Soulbinders and their ilk, though, and more on your men.

Hans had become much more muted than he used to be, when it came to chasing skirts. You bed that Stein’s sister had more than a bit to do with that; your radio operator and gunner still clashed over that meeting. Stein’s sister, called Smitty by her comrades, had apparently not seen it as necessary to catch up with him as much as he would have liked. No matter how many times Hans reassured him that Smitty was “a bit wrong in the head,” Stein never accepted it. They hadn’t come to blows quite yet- unlike the other members of the crew and the Netillians.

Netillians disliked Yaegirs as much as Mountainfolk, and the first time a passing Netillian recognized Jorgen’s accent and called him a tree-fucker, a brawl had broken out, and your crews and the Netillian’s squad ended up beating the hell out of each other before the officers nearby broke it up. That had thankfully not been repeated, but both Jorgen and Malachi had suffered from discrimination by the Netillians where possible; which elevated them in the eyes of the Ellowians, of course.

It had made Malachi sullen, though. He spoke far less, and instead substituted his jabbering speech with gesture and grunt. You didn’t think it was because he feared the Netillians or felt any need to fit in; the way he sighed and slumped just made it seem like he was tired and didn’t think the hassle worth it. Jorgen didn’t do anything like the same, but it only made sense, really- Yaegirs were well known for being a combative and aggressive sort of men, so that he was constantly spoiling for a fight was to be expected. Maybe that Malachi withdrew was indicative of his own blood, but who knew? Most green haired folk you met didn’t have their speech so corrupted with what Maddalyn had once described as “the ancient tongue.”

You found your crew in its totality by the tanks, which Hans had oh so cleverly dubbed “Ugly,” “Uglier,” and “Ugliest,” rather than by their decided titles. Though you weren’t about to disagree; Valsten’s armor design seemed to ever trend towards vehicles that lacked aesthetic quality. Or maybe you missed your M/32 enough that nostalgia for it lowered all other tanks.

“So what’s new,” you asked them after rounding all your crew up and leading them towards the mess, which was in the camp directly adjacent from yours; the platoons that made up the company inhabited camps that ringed the command center, but the company mess was refreshingly close by. “Do I have to go apologize to another Lieutenant whose non-commissioned officer crossed the wrong man?”

“Pfeh,” Jorgen protested, “Ayet lest eh dedn’t paet won tween ennyies.”

Jorgen was referring to a time Anya had been caught alone at night by a penal soldier while the company was helping make the rounds in the UGZ. He had intended to sleep with her, forcibly. Anya had disagreed, and she never went anywhere unarmed. Nobody bothered Anya after that. She hadn’t thought much of shooting a man in the head and leaving him to rot, but when you were expecting grief from the penal battalion’s commanding officer, he hadn’t minded either. What unfortunate men the penal units must have had.

“Nobody else got beaten up, boss,” Hans said, “Though Stein’s ripe to go nuts if he sees anymore ghosts.”

“Everybody can see them but you,” Stein snapped back, “See? There’s one hiding in the shadows there. They’re all over the damn place here.”

Stein referred to a Hungry Darkness spirit that was creeping in the small shadow of a tent, its glowing white eyes peeping out at you from the crack between the tent and the ground. It would have been very startling to anybody unfamiliar with such, but Hungry Darkness were, as far as you knew, utterly harmless for how spooky they looked.

However, it was currently daytime. The spirits seemed to settle down when the sun was out; it was when it set that things became spectacularly strange.

The nights were extremely strange in Ellowie, and not for a reason you’d think most would even be cognizant of. As the skies darkened, small, pale lights rose from the ground and formed bands of stars below the clouds, streaming off towards the mountains in ascending streams. The forms of the individual lights varied, like strange combinations of floating seed and snowflake crystal. Sometimes, among the flow there would be a strange, ethereal ribbon-like creature that slithered about in the sky like a dragon, sometimes two, and they would be at least as large as a twin engine bomber in length. Small phenomena would occur while the sun had risen, as well, often during cloudy and dim days where the pale light of spirits would be easier to see. Without Maddalyn to tell you what they were, nor any soulbinders visiting or accompanying to give their take, nor any mysterious folk of the mountains that were sociable (Besides Malachi, but speaking on complex subjects with him was still impossible), the best you could do was either ignore the apparitions, or consult with whatever mystics lingered about from time to time, whose explanations were varied and conflicting. You knew you weren’t the only one who could see them, but your people avoided speaking of the spirits openly, with the Netillians nearby. When you were isolated from the easterners, though, there was discussion; though little of it was productive. Most had concluded that it would be for the best to try and ignore it; for their own safety, even, as you advised.

Except for Stein, who was as openly superstitious as ever, though his talk was much more popular with the Ellowians than the Netillians. You’d heard the Twaryians were on Stein’s level of fear and respect concerning common apparitions, but they spoke Caelussian instead of New Nauk, and the few you had been around only had angry glares to share.

When you got to the mess tent, you had the crew sit while you got them their shares of breakfast. Most officers wouldn’t do this- but you weren’t most officers. A few short words were exchanged with Von Metzeler as they did the same. Krause didn’t pick up for his men, but Krause was also not a noble; it wasn’t a matter of class for him.

“So tell me,” you said as you sat back down, having passed out the greasy plates of dense, chewy biscuits and glistening pork strips, “I have a different view of the situation right now. I’d appreciate if you gave me your general opinion on matters.”

“Well,” Hans shared first, “I appreciate you gettin’ us this stuff, though I’d have liked breakfast in bed.”

“Byetis skweekytoi’d lek bryekfusen bed,” Jorgen sniggered.

“Heh heh,” Hans smirked at that, “Yeah, I bet she’d like a nice big sausage from boss, eh? Heh heh.” The table all found this quite funny save for you. “Lighten up, boss,” Hans made a fake pout at you. “Jorgen and Malachi keep complaining that you didn’t bring any cute girls with you for this one.”

“Hrmph.” Malachi grunted defensively. “Neh.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with my question.” You were still sullen.

“Indulge us, boss.” Hans said. “If we go all business we might turn into you and the world don’t need more of that.”

“I’m not all business.”

“Yeah, getting beaten up by scarface isn’t business,” Stein said, joining in on dogpiling you. “Nor is reading letters with…scar everything..?”

“Elbows.” Jorgen corrected.

“I’m not calling her that.” Stein said back. “Honestly, commander, the ghosts…well, there’s other people seeing them, and they don’t know what’s up. They’re thinking of all calling in sick, but they’re saying their officers are telling them to just cool off. I sort of wish your squeaky toy was here to help with that.”

You’d have appreciated it if Maddalyn ceased being referred to as a squeaky toy. It was true that her voice was high pitched and indeed squeaky when she got excited, but…

“That sounds concerning,” you agreed, “But I don’t really know what I could do about that other than do what their officers are already saying, and try to ignore it. As far as I know, all these spirits are benign.”

“Actually had an idea for that, boss,” Hans leaned forward, looking at you beyond Malachi, “We’ve heard there’s a bit of a social goin’ on soon, close to here, at the Railhead. Heard it being passed around the officers.”

You knew what was being referred to; had even been invited. “What about it?”

“Ask your boss for a favor. Have your honey flown in so you can take her to the party.”

The boss that Hans was referring to was…well, your actual boss. A mystery woman from the Intelligence Office- you had met her before, in Valsten, just before going on the Sosaldt operation. She was a towering woman, with long dark hair, a fair face with eyes ever hidden by sunglasses, taller than you and preferring to stand even taller on heeled shoes. You reported to her every so often, and in spite of your successes, she never failed to act disappointed in you.

You preferred to not meet with this odd woman, whose name you didn’t know. She was only ever referred to as the Major- you didn’t think the Intelligence Office followed military rank, so you supposed she used the name for some other reason. Von Metzeler also met with her, you knew; she thought more of him than she did of you, but Von Metzeler also did not hesitate to share that she was strict, stern, and little interested in anything save business, rumor, and opportunity.

She also may have not fond of men, judging by the copy of Opal you’d spied lying under a stack of papers in her hideout-hotel room in the railhead city called Kamienisty, though you knew she flitted about elsewhere as well.. Not that you’d presume.

>Why not? You were planning on attending anyways, and it was poor form to go unescorted to such matters unless you were looking to pick up one while there…
>No. You had decided Maddalyn would stay home for good reason, and socials were silly affairs.
>You already had plans on who you were taking to said social. Platonically. Best not to bother the Major about this. [Who?]
>Other? (Other topics of conversation, for example?)

>>3410340
>>Why not? You were planning on attending anyways, and it was poor form to go unescorted to such matters unless you were looking to pick up one while there…

>>3410340
>>Why not? You were planning on attending anyways, and it was poor form to go unescorted to such matters unless you were looking to pick up one while there…
I think we kinda need someone who knows their magic around for this that we can trust (cough cough not Poltergeist)

>>3410340
>You already had plans on who you were taking to said social. Platonically. Best not to bother the Major about this. [Who?]
Anya is an Ellowien, isn't she?

>>3410430
Ethnically, yes. At least, she has a surname like she is. Then again, it's not like she was born in Ellowie or particularly considers herself such.

>>3410438
Would they even accept her at a social? How uptight are Netillians about class even if they don't have aristocrats?

>>3410448
>Would they even accept her at a social?
Such is not their choice. That, and the social itself is said to include Ellowians anyways; "helpful" ones, that is.

>How uptight are Netillians about class even if they don't have aristocrats?

It's more a matter of military rank filling in for aristocracy, here. They indeed do not have near the aristocratic traditions of Strossvald, but one could readily conclude that the military class, given their rise to power, wouldn't be unhappy with instating one again.

>>3410333
>Elbows
>Squeaky Toy
Banter Commander resumes
>>3410340
>Why not? You were planning on attending anyways, and it was poor form to go unescorted to such matters unless you were looking to pick up one while there…
Hope Maddy still enjoys plane rides.

>>3410340
>>You already had plans on who you were taking to said social. Platonically. Best not to bother the Major about this. [Who?]
>Anya will be required to join us as one of her official duties. Unless she'd prefer more paperwork...

>>3410340
>You already had plans on who you were taking to said social. Platonically. Best not to bother the Major about this. [Who?]
Anya, in the hopes that it will lead to Richter being bullied.

>>3410340
>You already had plans on who you were taking to said social. Platonically. Best not to bother the Major about this. [Who?]
Anya

Hm.

>>3410342
>>3410363
>>3410469
Arch-Womanlet delivery

>>3410684
>>3410676
>>3410503
>>3410430
Tomboy, under threat of having to play secretary in your absence.

Writing, then.

File: Richter's getting bigger!.gif (433 KB, 667x700)

433 KB GIF

>>3410733

In Blumsburgh, the events of near two months past, where armed militia and soldiers prowled the countryside in contest for the future of the state, had been long forgotten, that concern replaced by the short lived Valsten War, then that by distant news of shifts in other parts of the world, as Strossvald and her subjects settled into peace just in time for Langenachtfest to appear on the horizon. With December came winter chill, and as the people in the city below donned long coats and scarves, worries long gone and entirely replaced with excitement for the coming holiday with decorative tinsel and lights crisscrossing the streets and stores, the Von Blum manor loomed over, its majestic figure coated in a light crust of frost. Within this manor, the only members of the family who lingered within were the third and fourth born daughters, the last children of Lord Barnabas Von Blum.

Maddalyn Von Blum’s study was a dim and sparsely decorated room, with one wall completely covered in dusty books, all very old and written in languages none spoke, and another lined with wooden desks covered with notes and odd devices, as well as a pair of cages with white mice residing within that chewed idly at their home’s wires. An empty chair by the tomes was what remained of the old sage who used to reside here, who had been moved to another place, and another chair like it was where the small, pale, and thin daughter of the Von Blums pored over books she’d read many times, yet continued to search through regardless, looking for answers to questions that she hadn’t considered before. The room protected against the winter outside quite well, but in spite of that Maddalyn felt terribly cold. She’d taken to wearing a blanket about herself all day and night, though the difference between the two little mattered because of her blindness; light or dark, she still saw through an eye possessed by spirits. Its twin floated in a glass jar, covered in cloth to hide the macabre contents; for the sake of the servants, not Maddalyn, as her vision could not penetrate the glass anyways. Cut out nearly a month past, the (apparently blue) eye no longer saw, and Maddalyn merely preserved it for the purpose of experimenting on. Where it once sat there now was a glass eye, which did not deign to swivel in place and stare unnervingly as whomever came close. There was little she could do with it even then; it was practically a curiosity, a nasty eye that refused to die or corrode because of the work of the little spirits who called it home.

She could have gotten rid of it, but she hesitated to. When it had been initially lost, Maddalyn thought it gone forever, just like she had thought her old life gone forever, yet her husband to be, Richter Von Tracht, had come for her when she expected to be abandoned, again. He had kept her eye and returned it to her, fully expecting the damage to be reparable. It wasn’t, but Maddalyn hadn’t the heart to tell him, and to cast away the eye would be to spit on his efforts, it felt like.

Maddalyn’s fiancé was a confusing man, and a person who had been unwittingly distracting his wife to be when she tried to study and experiment. He kept her awake when she tried to sleep, and a surrogate for him in her bed had been found in the form of a long and large pillow, but said furnishing lacked the capacity to squeeze Maddalyn back when she embraced it. For all that she missed his presence and his clumsy displays of affection, she was equally frustrated by his other aspects. She would mutter angrily into pillow Richter that he was difficult to understand, demanded answers as to why he had sat in a wretched courthouse wasting time for the sake of honor she cared little about, instead of coming home with her and marrying her before he left. Why had he come for her at all, why did he shower her with kindnesses, only to not tell her a single reason he could feel anything for her? Just like the person it was standing in for, the pillow had no answers.

The silence on such matters was what terrified Maddalyn the most. Her and Richter’s marriage had been arranged, certainly, and she hadn’t expected much from it, but she had fallen in love anyways. She loved that she was precious to somebody again, that there was somebody who cared enough to come and save her, to risk life and status to come and get her back. There was no feeling quite as warm and comforting as holding Richter in her heart…yet nothing so soul freezing as the thought, “What if I have no such place in his?”

Maddalyn was small, scrawny, pale, weak, and as of late rather gaunt from not eating properly. Blind as she was, she had no idea if she was attractive, or how she compared to other women, but she knew that she was an inferior specimen of a female, was confident of such. There was nothing that scared her more than thinking about the women that she knew Richter was friendly with; none of them were weak as her, blind like her, nor as cowardly or selfish.

“What do you think,” She idly asked a mouse as she held it in her hand, observing the effects of her experimentation upon its presence, “Am I at least prettier than Anya?”

The mouse responded by biting her hard on her finger. Maddalyn cringed with pain, and almost dropped the thing, then it bit her again and freed itself. Even animals hated her, Maddalyn thought as she held her bloodied hand, how incredibly reassuring.

The next day, she was reading a book on the philosophy of presence; soulbinders were intentionally vague even when discussing their craft even in books meant to be only shared with one another, on top of presence itself being a force that lacked consistency or logic, it made reading these books rather laborious, especially when intrusive thoughts wormed their way into spaces between her reading.

That idiot republican girl was so confident in requesting his time. She was some commoner in a country that is a garbage pit, how can I not share her certainty?
Maddalyn started over from the top of the page, and only made it a few lines down.

Hilda is so feminine. She’s tall, strong, and her breasts are so big. I felt like a child when next to her. If she and Richter had children, they’d probably be tall and strong too. Could I be a mother to anybody like that?

The book was being ignored now. Maddalyn merely stared emptily at the faded, blood scribed text. She hated Anya so much. That woman made her blood boil and her breath short just thinking about her, but it wasn’t because of how she had been mistreated by the scruffy mercenary. Anya was strong, aggressive, a warrior, and when Maddalyn had asked Richter what sort of woman he would have pursued if his marriage hadn’t been arranged, he had described Anya almost exactly.

The words on the page turned illegible, ideas wouldn’t form in Maddalyn’s head, and she almost threw the book away in frustration, were it not for how irreplaceable it was. She tried to go take a walk in the garden to calm down, to be consoled by the nutty scent of winterbloom bushes, but the weakness in her legs only made her feel pitiful.

Anya is a mercenary. I remember her being muscular, and tough. I wish she would die. Richter likes to talk about battles and weapons, she probably likes those things too. He talks about such things to me and I feel like he’s speaking another language... Maddalyn could speak and understand four languages, and could read another that was hardly spoken by anybody. New Nauk, Old Nauk, Emrean, Caelussian, and the Ancient Script of the Mountains. Yet she did not understand a word of the language of battle and war.

When Maddalyn returned to her room, she stood in the center and looked up at the ceiling for a long time. She couldn’t talk with Richter about the sky, the land, or anything pretty. She couldn’t talk to him about the things he liked. She could fulfill his curiosity on forbidden arts and spirits…but when were those ever pleasant subjects of conversation?

I hate Anya. Or do I just hate myself?

“You’re always grabbing my butt,” she complained to her pillow later, as she lay in bed. “Is it really that nice?” She reached behind her and ran her hand over her hindquarters, “Is it enough to make up for everything else?”

She was awakened later by a knock at the door.

“Lady Maddalyn?” the voice of a female servant called out, “I’ve brought breakfast. I’ll leave it by the door.”

Maddalyn wasn’t hungry, but she got up to get the food anyways, setting it on the tea table by her study chair before returning to bed and squeezing the pillow that had been by her side.

“You didn’t want to marry me when we came back,” she criticized the pillow, “Do you feel any different now? I can’t write you any letters, and I haven’t received any from you, either. Ever since we met we’ve been apart longer than we’ve been together. For all I know you’ve run off with Anya. Why wouldn’t you? She’s better than me. What even am I to you? You won’t tell me what you even like about me, what am I supposed to think? That you like me for my blood? Because you’re just supposed to? What?” She squeezed the pillow like she wanted to crush it to death, and she only realized as she felt a wet spot on the pillow against her face that tears were running down her cheeks. The innocent bundle of stuffing was shown some mercy as Maddalyn sniffled, “I’m sorry. It’s horrible of me to think you’re that sort of man. I should be thankful I have anybody at all, but…” She closed her eyes and buried her face in the cloth, “…I just don’t see why anybody would choose me.”

Sunlight warmed the curtains. “Lady Maddalyn? Are you there?” the voice of a different servant, “Your tea is here.”

Maddalyn was still in bed. She hadn’t eaten a bite of her breakfast, but tea time was probably a decent time to finally get to work. She felt hollow inside, and she read words off of the pages of her books, but they failed to stick. She would read a chapter, and realize with a start that she hardly remembered any of it. Don’t you know why you’re even doing this? She asked herself, It’s so that you even have a hope at having a future with him! Get your head out of the clouds! Then again…did it really matter? Richter hadn’t come back to marry her. He’d agreed with her rather ridiculous condition that they not consummate their marriage even after the ceremony would make it official. Was it possible that she was, as usual, going about this the wrong way?

What if Richter didn’t actually care about what Maddalyn was trying so hard to figure out? She stepped over to the mice in their cages, checked on them, their progress, the differences between the varying experiments and test groups. All were about as conclusive in current results as a path at the start of a thick wood. Fruitless as the research was turning out, her mind went to other subjects. What did Richter want of her, she wondered. Maybe she should learn more about the subjects he was interested in? If she could do anything, it was study. Though…her blindness left most texts inaccessible to her. There were books made for the blind, but not many, as she learned with dismay from a servant sent out to search, that dealt with military history in any depth. What, then?

Her thoughts returned to Anya, unpleasant as that was. She was physically fit, a fighter, and Maddalyn couldn’t recall the woman showing an ounce of fear, even when defeated. She pitifully remembered back in Sosaldt; she had been wounded, and had been so afraid after that she had almost been unable to help one of her husband’s friends, comrades. After that battle, she had retired to the rear lines, while Richter had gone on ahead to fight more in the city. Violent, brutal fighting that it was entirely likely for her husband to be wounded in, yet she hadn’t fought to remain with him. Coward. Weakling. No wonder she had been left behind again.

Maybe Maddalyn could at least do that; get stronger. Be less of a stick insect, she thought as she squeezed her bicep; it was like wrapping her hand around a stick. How hard could it be? Her resolve had swelled as she dressed herself and went downstairs; a few brisk walks should be a good start, but when she found herself breathing hard at the bottom of the steps, her legs somewhat strained, she found herself losing faith. What if she was too weak to even start? Her pace slowed, crawled, then finally stopped, as she stood in front of the door outside, and lost herself in thought.

“Maddy, what is it?” Damn it all, Maddalyn thought, as she knew immediately who was speaking to her from the voice that sounding like she was talking to herself. Her sister, Mathilda, who looked identical to her, sounded just like her, was nearly impossible to distinguish from her, from what she had heard, except from their personalities. “Were you thinking of crawling out of your hole today, or have the servants finally deigned to throw the cockroach out of this house?”

Maddalyn said nothing, hoped that her sister would leave her alone. She wasn’t in the mood for this. She bit her lip and stared straight ahead. Ever since…that thing had happened, years ago, Mathilda would torment her whenever she could, and Maddalyn could never bring herself to resist. She did deserve it, after all.

“Oh, but you know I’m merely playing around,” Mathilda cooed, stepping up beside Maddalyn, then in front. Maddalyn couldn’t tell exactly what she was wearing, but Mathilda never failed to dress herself fashionably. “We can go and shop for clothes, does that sound nice? Perhaps a bridesmaid’s dress for when your fiancée marries? Baby clothes for your husband’s son?”

“Shut up.” Maddalyn heard herself say, quietly.

“Hm? Excuse me?” Mathilda leaned in closer, “Would you mind saying that more clearly, or did you not actually say anything, like usual?”

“You will not speak of my Richter in that way you just did,” Maddalyn’s voice raised, “I won’t tolerate such slander.”

“Oh, my,” Mathilda put her chest out and crossed her arms, sounding as smug as ever, “I’m ever so sorry for implying that your dear husband would rather sow his seed among common slatterns than ever touch you. To even-“

Maddalyn lashed out with her hand and slapped her sister across the face.

“You…did you strike me?” Mathilda said in shock, slowly raising a hand to her cheek. Maddalyn swept out again and slapped her sister once more. “You whore!” She shrieked, and she tore forward and tackled Maddalyn to the ground, yanking on Maddalyn’s hair and striking her in the face with a closed fist, over and over again. Maddalyn could hardly tell what was happening as blows continued to rain down on her and she wildly clawed out at whatever she could, kicking and screaming, grabbing her sister’s head and slamming it into the floor. Her advantage was only there for a moment before her younger sister overpowered her again and leaned her knee into Maddalyn’s stomach.

“Lady Mathilda! What are you doing!?” a servant shouted and came running, dragging Mathilda off of Maddalyn; she kicked Maddalyn savagely with a heeled foot as she was taken up, a few more servants coming running to attend to the elder of the two sisters, but not before Mathilda spat on Maddalyn’s prone form. “Lady Mathilda, calm yourself! Your hands….they’re bleeding black!”

“Are you alright, milady?” A servant helped Maddalyn sit up. Maddalyn hurt all over, she felt dizzy, but somewhere inside her, she felt a spark of pleasure as she saw Mathilda check herself over, apparently discover a distressing tear in her clothes, and storm back upstairs. A moment to feel some small pride for before she staggered to her feet and started for the door.

Actual update will be soon, by the way. Just a glimpse back west.

>>3410861
Unless she is training those rats to carry shaped charges onto enemy tanks, I don’t think I like whatever is going on here.

“I already had plans for said social,” you stated, “A more local volunteer that I won’t have to force through the Major in order to get here. Miss Nowicki will be escorting me to this social. Platonically.” She hadn’t wanted to go, but you had threatened her with paperwork; that was enough for her to relent…but you had a sneaking suspicion that that had meant you two would now be at war. You dreaded Anya’s opening strike from the moment she didn’t object to be fitted for a dress. You would have thought that the absolute last thing Anya would ever wear would be a dress…hence your incredible suspicion of what could be going on.

Your crew stared at you.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, huh, Commander.” Stein said blankly.

“I am not.”

“We’ve all seen how your shrimp crawls all over you, boss,” Hans backed up Stein, “But you’d rather take along the thing that beats the stuffing out of you? I’m half certain to say you like getting pummeled.”

“Pardiyenbadtem,” Malachi muttered, “Reddiceut. No feyht.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a bad time.” You said to Malachi.

“No, esed it’s en behd tem,” Jorgen fixed your interpretation, “Ef ehwere Ellowian, eh’d see thes theng’n gettastiff.”

That hadn’t been a possibility you had considered. If you brought Maddalyn to a place where she could be the subject of an insurgent attack… “…See? My choice has some logic behind it.”

“Saying you couldn’t protect her?” Hans poked.

A memory of a battle in Sosaldt. When Krause’s tank had been struck by a shell, and tore away his leg. Maddalyn was in your tank; she had the ability to save your rapidly exsanguinating officer. You would have to escort her through the battle, but she would be fine. It was only a short run…
A crack, the sight of Maddalyn recoiling, the blood on her chest and the fear in her eyes as she realized she’d been shot. Remembering it made you feel sick. Further thinking on it, she had gotten lucky; not been shot in a place where it could have killed her quickly. A small change in how the shooter was holding their gun, and suddenly, the scenario was different. A bullet to the throat, a vision of watching the fear in Maddalyn’s eyes fade as death came to take her, unable to scream or beg as blood filled the back of her mouth…

You pursed your lips and said nothing.

“…Boss?” Hans blinked at you. He hadn’t been in your tank when Maddalyn had been shot. It was a foggy memory to him. You didn’t blame him for forgetting.

“It’s easier this way.” You said more curtly than you thought you wanted to. “Talk about something else.”

“…Well, uh,” Stein picked back up again, “Didn’t we have a mission today? Something for us personally?”

You nodded, and dabbed at bacon grease with the edge of a biscuit. “Yes. One of the colony town mayors wanted us to investigate supplies going missing. And a disappearance. The one called New Jorgenstohn.” That town had been the butt of more than a few jokes among you because of the name of its namesake’s founder, coincidentally shared with the loader of your tank crew.

The colony towns were another prickly political issue of the new Ellowie under Netilland. Netilland was ever known for overpopulation; this problem, while a useful reserve of manpower, ironically was an economic strain. So the colony towns were a useful way to both pacify the newly conquered land and spread out the untenable poor to turn a profit. Such colony towns were also the target of the greatest amount of spite by insurgents, especially here in the Border Gap where there were simply not enough resources to guard them; yet there were always more colonists arriving by train, by foot, even those who didn’t come with official approval were still welcomed by the occupiers as new citizenry.

High Protector Wladyaw XI, the Ellowian appointee puppet ruler over the new territories, was of course more accepting of these colonists than he was of his own people. Especially since the Ellowians held no love for the royal bloodline of their past monarchs.

“Bossman,” Malachi suddenly quipped, “Tellbout Vladkeng.”

“You son of a bitch-“ Hans cut in, but you were gladly about to share the tale.

-----

Ellowie weathered the rise of the Grossreich and Kaiser Alexander by making a diplomatically efficient move; after the Kaiser had subjugated what would be known as Strossvald, and Valsten, when he cast his eyes further east, the then King Wladysaw IV of Ellowie extended an offer of alliance. The Kaiser responded with a demand of subservience. This was not the end of negotiations, however, and a final decision was made that Ellowie would maintain relative independence in spite of being a dominion of the Reich, they would also provide significant assistance in their conquests. This did not endear the Ellowians to the Twaryians when primarily Ellowian armies supported by the Reich swept down to overwhelm them in the name of the Reich; they had already been regional rivals, but this act would cement poor relations to this day.

In spite of maintaining their independence, such came at cost beyond merely aiding in war. Heavy taxes were levied on the subject state, so that the plunder from the conquered Twaryian states often went indirectly to the Reich. Taxes continued to stay high until the Archduchy rebelled; as the Reich’s hold on Sosalia crumbled, King Wladysaw VII declared Ellowie’s independence, in the process withdrawing its troops from costly occupation of Twaryi, and Ellowie was once more independent. However, resentment against the Reich, and by extension its monarch puppets, had grown in the years in subjugation. The past two kings had both been assassinated by anti-Reich cells, so in a move to maintain stability and preserve his life, King Wladysaw VII abdicated from the throne and passed all authority to the Electorate of the People, transforming the state from a Constitutional Monarchy to a Republic.

The realm left behind was far from prosperous. Ellowie did not lack for mineral resources but its status in the Reich meant that it was ironically taxed more heavily than any of the conquered lands; this combined with the expense of occupying Twaryi meant that the Ellowian Confederated States were practically destitute after formation. Even worse, with the formation of Netilland and the militancy of the Twaryians even after the latter were officially recognized by Ellowie, meant that the country was immediately under threat. However, the first war between the new Twaryi and Ellowie was a crushing defeat for the Twaryians. To call it a war, even, would be facetious, as it was decided within two weeks at a single battle, as even though the Twaryians had no shortage of spirit and willing volunteers, their leadership had little military experience while Ellowie’s armies were hardened and their officers were well trained as well as having had the chance to test their knowledge plenty before this war. So thoroughly was the Twaryian attempt at invasion crushed that her neighbors took note, buying Ellowie valuable time to get back on its feet.

-----

“The best part is that you should already have known this.” You nodded to yourself, “To know the local history and the relationships of the people is vital in a successful resolution to their conflicts.”

“I don’t see what that had to do with the mission,” Stein complained.

“Why, everything,” you played at sounding sagely, “The Ellowians have ever been surrounded by enemies. It’s good information to know.”

“Well, what do you think, then?” Stein asked you, “Since we’re about to look into something that, I’d put money on it, was perpetrated by Ellowians. What do you think of them?”

>They were the Kaiser’s dogs. They understood the consequences going forward, I believe, and now time has come to reap them. They have my pity, but this was the only way their story could have ended.
>You couldn’t help but be fascinated by their martial history. Much like you were by the Reich’s, really. They were a valiant people, never bested by a singular opponent; how could you have anything but respect for them?
>Their history was in the past. The injustices facing them were in the present. You had nothing but sympathy for their plight.
>Was what you thought truly important? You were not here to save Ellowie or glorify Netilland. You were here to serve the Archduchy.
>Other?

>>3411027
It's just magic, surely it's nothing. What could she possibly be up to that would be bad?

>>3411085
>You couldn’t help but be fascinated by their martial history. Much like you were by the Reich’s, really. They were a valiant people, never bested by a singular opponent; how could you have anything but respect for them?
>Their history was in the past. The injustices facing them were in the present. You had nothing but sympathy for their plight.
Also
>Other: The monarchs of the past are the ones who brought this fate on Ellowie. Not her people.

>What could she possibly be up to that would be bad?
Cursing Anya with von Tracht luck.

>>3411085
>You couldn’t help but be fascinated by their martial history. Much like you were by the Reich’s, really. They were a valiant people, never bested by a singular opponent; how could you have anything but respect for them?
>Their history was in the past. The injustices facing them were in the present. You had nothing but sympathy for their plight.
Ellowieaboo ENGAGED

>>3411085
>You couldn’t help but be fascinated by their martial history. Much like you were by the Reich’s, really. They were a valiant people, never bested by a singular opponent; how could you have anything but respect for them?
>Was what you thought truly important? You were not here to save Ellowie or glorify Netilland. You were here to serve the Archduchy.

>>3411085
>>You couldn’t help but be fascinated by their martial history. Much like you were by the Reich’s, really. They were a valiant people, never bested by a singular opponent; how could you have anything but respect for them?
>>Was what you thought truly important? You were not here to save Ellowie or glorify Netilland. You were here to serve the Archduchy.
>>Other?

>>3411085
>>Was what you thought truly important? You were not here to save Ellowie or glorify Netilland. You were here to serve the Archduchy.

>>3411103
>>3411105
>>3411175
>>3411244
Martial history! They're strong!

>>3411103
>>3411105
Then was then and now is now.

>>3411175
>>3411244
>>3411251
You're not here for your own bias; you're here to do a job.

Also, it's the king's fault, but don't let the King, I mean, High Protector, hear that sort of talk.

Writing then,

“I admit that I’m fascinated with Ellowie’s martial history,” you said, “They fended off both Netilland and Twaryi, repeatedly, up until now. They have ever been known as skilled at warfare.” Their pilots in particular were the pride of the country- much of the air force had also managed to escape the fall, with what elements had gotten away. Netilland liked to say that only fragments had escaped, but you got the feeling that they weren’t telling the whole truth there. “I have nothing but respect for Ellowie and its people. However. We aren’t here to serve my bias, be it for Ellowie or its conquerors. Our interests are with the Archduke and Strossvald.”

“Hm.” Stein frowned, “I figure we should help people here if they need it, don’t you?”

“I’m not saying to not help people. Just that we don’t lost sight of why we’re here.” You interjected, “Besides, we’re going to set out and help some Netillian colonists today. It’s important to not have a particular bias in solving a mystery like this, don’t you think?”

Von Metzeler had shared that tidbit with you some time back when handling another case of unknown identity in the Border Gap. However, that was an ongoing case; Von Metzeler felt he had gotten close to catching the culprit of a gruesome set of murders, but he had been officially and sternly requested to stop by Komissariat officers. Something told you that it was a personal ambition of Von Metzeler’s to become a detective, but his capacity to investigate that particular happening had been hindered since; not that you expected that that had stopped him from trying further anyways.

Idle talk took up the rest of the meal, for what was left of it. You were taking your crew along here not for assistance in deduction; it was for them to do their job as tank crewmen. The primary suspects in the happenings around New Jorgenstohn were thought to be Ellowian insurgents; a show of force in the form of the deployment of at least one tank was thought, then, to be prudent; especially since a swift counterattack or raid would be expected once the culprits were either found out or decided upon.

That left what you would take besides that. New Jorgenstohn had, as was required by Colonial law, a militia, poorly equipped and unsuited for fighting as they were, they were at least a basic deterrent. The reason your company was stationed nearby was to handle problems that were not dissuaded by the presence of a weak band of volunteer watchmen, though really, you could bully the mayor into lending them to you anyways.

>A squad of Netillian light infantrymen; you hardly expected some large band to be behind this. Whoever it was, there probably weren’t that many of them.
>A squad of Ellowian infantrymen. You expected locals, and perhaps, when you were directed towards Ellowians, they would be more willing to work with their own kind.
>Another one of your officers, and their tank. [Who?]
>Your tank by itself would be fine. More than like you wouldn’t find enough to go on right away, even if appearing unready for a scuffle might harm their confidence…
>Other?

Each infantry squad is fifteen men, armed with rifles and a single light machine gun team for each squad. You can easily take more than one squad, though naturally, both in this and in any operations moving forward, you shouldn't depopulate your main base too much, leaving it vulnerable.

>>3411353
>>A squad of Netillian light infantrymen; you hardly expected some large band to be behind this. Whoever it was, there probably weren’t that many of them.

>>3411353
>>A squad of Netillian light infantrymen; you hardly expected some large band to be behind this. Whoever it was, there probably weren’t that many of them.

>>3411353
>>A squad of Netillian light infantrymen; you hardly expected some large band to be behind this. Whoever it was, there probably weren’t that many of them.

>>3411353
>A squad of Netillian light infantrymen; you hardly expected some large band to be behind this. Whoever it was, there probably weren’t that many of them.
Ellowian collaborators would be probably hated even more.

>>3411361
>>3411370
>>3411388
>>3411477
What better to investigate a town of Netillians than to come with Netillians? Never fear, the Midland Rangers are here! Hopefully that's encouraging to these immigrants.

Writing.

You decided that a single squad of Netillian infantrymen would be capable enough aid. The Midland Rangers, as they called themselves, were inexperienced, but they were certainly eager. They were trained, but unblooded, and the insurgency hadn’t been near brutal enough to cool the spirits of most. All you really had to do to get a group thusly was walk into the camp of first platoon and ask Lieutenant Borscholm to give you a volunteer squad leader.

Such was found within seconds, and in no time at all, a column of Netillian riflemen were marching steadily behind the X-12 as it rolled forward, though to one side of the road to avoid splattering mud; with the rain, there was no presence of typical clouds of dust. The captured Valsten prototypes were surprisingly quiet tanks; to the point where from your position of hanging out the top of it, you could hear talk between the light infantrymen about where they were going, what they thought of the assignment as it had been described of them- what chance those foolish Ellowian criminals could think they had. Already there was a presumption that Ellowians were behind it, and why not, after all? The afflicted town was a Netillian colony, well despised by Ellowians, and thus the likelihood that it was native insurgents was all but unquestioned. Who else could it be?

That, you supposed, was the question you had to answer when you arrived at the town.

-----

New Jorgenstohn was a small town, population, 121, the last you were informed. Migrants tended to be spread throughout the colony towns- though usually, they were escorted by troops. Or at least, were supposed to be. The replacement commanding officer of your company hadn’t received any accompaniment, after all, so there was a stark difference between what there was supposed to be and what actually was. Many colony towns, you’d heard, were Ellowian towns and villages that had had all their former inhabitants evicted, but New Jorgenstohn was a new construction; you had watched the place go from a few frames to a sleepy town, whose main economy was based on a shiny new lumber mill, meant to process trees coming from the logging towns to the west, near the denser forests. Beyond that, there were other features which capitalized upon the local military population; the typical appeals of taverns.

Absent were brothels; you’d heard of military supported brothels that benefited from good security and medical checks pro bono, but the “Recreation Units” were a case of there being too much demand and too little supply, so for all the Military Council’s efforts towards stamping out venereal disease among its soldiery, the place to go in their long absences, you’d heard, were the UGZs, where apparently one could “sleep with a girl and her mother for ten pfennings and a slice of bread.” You rather hoped that that wasn’t true, and weren’t interested in finding out; asking Lieutenant Wielzci of the Company Ellowian Platoon about the UGZ had caused him to become rather incensed, and you guessed, for good reason.

The townspeople appeared rather relieved by your appearance and your train of soldiers; had they been wearing the grey-striped helms of the Ellowian repatriates, you wagered, they would not have been so glad. The sheriff and a pair of clueless looking militia who formed the core of the town constabulary were ready to meet you in front of their office, the sheriff with a sheathe of notes on whatever clues he thought were valuable- whether they actually were or not, as they included testimonies that were potentially…well. Best to go through it all before making a judgment.

A courier driver claiming they were held up on the road by a pair of gunmen. The warehouse said courier worked for noting that an entire back lot of canned goods had gone missing through what appeared to be a gaping hole in the back of the building. An Ellowian slogan painted hastily on the wall of said warehouse, fuel for the mill’s generator having dried up long, long before it was supposed to, indicating somebody had siphoned quite a bit of fuel from the tank. All of these thefts, however, were nothing compared to the disappearing of the mayor’s eighteen year old daughter. This had been accompanied with a note proclaiming responsibility for the deed- by what claimed to be a local insurgent militia called the Risen. Said note also claimed responsibility for all the other deeds, and challenged the reader of the note to find them and stop them, while also doubting the reader’s ability to do so.

“Have they sent any demand?” you asked after reading the note in question, “Done anything further?”

The sheriff shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mister Von Tracht. Since they ran off with somebody, though, people’re afraid. It’ll set ‘em in the right head if you can find ‘em. If not that, then havin’ some of your people guarding the town. The constables’re afraid of the Ellowians too, see…”

“Uh huh.” You looked back at the proclamation note. It appeared to be on rather fine paper, written with ink in shoddy handwriting. Was this enough to go on, you wondered. If need be, you could certainly roll up wherever you liked and demand that you be allowed to make an investigation, but there seemed so little to go on…
The witness testimonies for the disappearance, though. Apparently, multiple people had reported hearing a car in the middle of the night; especially around the area where the mayor’s daughter had gone missing. How odd, for multiple reasons. Additionally, footprints had been found in the mud; from boots, it appeared. They had been washed away by now, but one of the witnesses claimed that it looked like a military boot print.

You weren’t used to having to do investigative work like this. However, the normal realm of these things fell to the Kommissariat, and you’d be goddamned if you would willingly call them in. That, and they preferred not to handle cases where insurgents were involved anyways; insurgents were supposed to be your job to handle, after all.

Could a deduction be made at this venture, you wondered?

>Who is responsible for these crimes? It might be prudent to come up with a culprit sooner rather than later, of course, if they’ll be readily accepted…
>Surely rogues from the UGZ. It isn’t that far away from here, they have a motive, the writing was literally on the wall, you may as well bring your people over there and start cracking skulls until somebody coughed up some names.
>Some bastards from another unit, making your life a pain. Military style boots, a car, it was most likely somebody further down the line. Maybe now it would be the Kommissariat’s business?
>Local insurgents, as theorized. But what could you do? Once they vanished into the woods and countryside, they may as well be impossible to find.
>Perhaps it was an intrusion by Twaryians. Though your ability to strike back and render right these wrongs would be questionable…and make a proper mess of things. Which might not be a bad thing for your mission.

Of course, before coming to a proper judgment, you can shop around for other clues and leads, if you have an idea of where you might look for them, but the longer you take to produce results, the more nervous the locals might get…or confident, when it comes to malcontents.

Wait is Emma getting fat off of Richter's presence making him more lethargic?

>>3411657
She has not been feeding off of you enough to likely be responsible for such, no. At least not for such to be readily assumed.

>>3411669
How long has Richter started to feel more down then? Since thinking too hard on the train?

>>3411641
Are there any intelligence services known to be operating in the area? So far in Richter's experience glow in the dark CIA niggers have been responsible for 100% of all kidnappings of young women. If not it's probably the Twaryians instigating conflict between the Netillians and Ellowians in order to cause chaos and instability they can take advantage of. Someone should probably be watching that there border for vehicle traffic at the least.

If I had to guess it's either another unit or the Twaryians. Vehicles would be a pain in the ass for insurgents to maintain especially with the whole fuel shortage; plus they'd have to hide it somewhere as well. Also, fine paper and such an obvious sloppy message? Definitely suspicious.

>>3411681
He can't really tell. It's been a sort of steady decline into said lethargy and bouts of blankness. He certainly wasn't feeling these things before then, though.

>>3411688
>Are there any intelligence services known to be operating in the area?

Besides the Major and your group you don't know of anybody specifically.

>>3411700
I agree but I think we should look around and see if we can find any tire tracks or something and where they lead.

>>3411701
What other Netillian units are near us? Any penal battalions or units with discipline problems?

>>3411706
Agreed for now try to find some tracks.

>>3411707
>What other Netillian units are near us? Any penal battalions or units with discipline problems?

The 22nd Penal Battalion is the unit adjacent on the line to the west. They tend to be called in to help quell disorder in the UGZ. They tend to be ill disciplined, yes, but the victims of such tend to be Ellowians, as crimes towards them tend to not be as harshly punished, if not delayed in investigation in the case of particularly spiteful sorts. Thus the chances of them directly causing trouble with Netillians is, at least as far as one would assume, less likely.

>>3411717
Right,so I guess for now the main focus is finding if we can see where the car went.

I'll follow up on the investigation tomorrow, but for now, it seems to be in agreement to look for vehicle tracks, given that people heard a car. Easy enough to do.

File: Spoiler Image (16 KB, 480x360)

16 KB JPG

Dear Pesky Tankers, the Rising and I have taken over the New Jorgenstohn colony. The Mayor's daughter is now a permanent guest at one of our seven Ubergangszentrum. I dare you to find her if you can.

>>3411641
>Perhaps it was an intrusion by Twaryians. Though your ability to strike back and render right these wrongs would be questionable…and make a proper mess of things. Which might not be a bad thing for your mission.

>>3411641
>>Who is responsible for these crimes? It might be prudent to come up with a culprit sooner rather than later, of course, if they’ll be readily accepted…

We should ask the Mayor about his daughter, and her loyalties. Maybe it was an inside job and these are all to throw us off their tracks, if it was fine paper originally from his writing desk say...

Anyone reported a vehicle missing?
Did the courier get his car jacked?
Would fuel from the mill work in a car/truck?
Has anyone heard about the Risen prior to these crimes?
If there's a new gaping hole in the back of the warehouse how the hell did no one hear that and investigate?
Where did she go missing?

It's also possible that some of these clues are completely unrelated to the crimes. We have to doubt the effectiveness of the Constable, not quite as good as Archduchy polizei. Worse comes to worse we can ask for help from Inspector Von Clouseau Metzeler.

>>3411857
Yeah all of these too. We should definitely inquire into the paper.

You had a decent idea of who it could be- rather, who it couldn’t be, but there were a few more things you wanted to check out before you reached a decision; you reassured the sheriff that it wouldn’t take long.

“If they went in a car,” you explained, “Then there should be tire tracks somewhere. This happened recently, yes?”

“Mmyeah,” the sheriff nodded, “only a couple of days ago, the night before last. Tire tracks…I guess it hasn’t been raining hard enough for those to go anywhere.”
The squad leader was thus told to pick a fire team and send them down the road looking for said tire tracks; specifically, you requested, any going south; recent fuel shortages (artificial as they were due to Border Gap imposed logistical limits) meant that it seemed questionable for just anybody to have a car to hop in and take a joyride to the town with; it would have most likely either been another Netillian formation, by your wager, or Twaryians trespassing in Netillian territory, as they did with…greater frequency than would be reassuring, really.

Blaming it on Twaryians would have been an open and shut case. Officially, you weren’t allowed to go over the border; off the books, nobody really cared as long as you didn’t turn it into an incident. Netillians didn’t go over the border nearly as much as you heard the Twaryians did, but you had certainly heard of them doing it anyways.

There were inconsistencies that you didn’t really like, though. You went over them with the sheriff.

“So this gang, called the Risen or whatever,” you already doubted that they actually existed; you’d been in this region a decent amount of time and never heard of such a group, “Has anybody heard about them prior to this?” The sheriff shook his head no. “I see. And the courier earlier who claimed to have been robbed on the road. Was his vehicle stolen?”

“No, just the cargo. The truck’s an allowance from the army, we’d be in a bind if that was taken, and I guess the robbers didn’t want to make themselves that big a target?”

Maybe not. “Tell me about the lumber mill’s generator. What kind of fuel does it use?”

The sheriff didn’t seem to know, but one of the militiamen apparently had a friend who worked in the mill; he shared what he knew, which was that the generator engine for the mill’s electrical power was a diesel engine; the diesel fuel it used would be of little use in most Netillian vehicles that ran on gasoline. The latter conclusion was your own- however, Twaryian vehicles ran on diesel. That would have been troublesome with the Twaryian vehicles you captured from the Blood Suns way back when, but those vehicles had been, to your fortune, converted to use gasoline engines.

One more thing, then. “The huge hole in the back of the warehouse. Can you show me it?” The warehouse was a short walk away; not a big storage unit; it was sufficient for the town’s needs. In the back, a set of planks lay on the ground around a neatly knocked out hole in the wall; you were told that said planks had been hiding the hole.

“Nobody reported anything like walls being knocked down or funny people coming and digging around,” the sheriff said defensively, “This is the first we knew of this even maybe happening.”

“…I see. Let me see the note the kidnappers left again?” You were given it. “I think I’d like to meet with the mayor. Can that be arranged?”

“Well-“

“Immediately?”

“…Yes, sir.”

-----

As you were being led to mayor after being shown the warehouse, the fire teams came back; they reported that, indeed, a set of car tire tracks had gone off the road just a bit of the way down, and had gone south; directly for the Twaryian border. So that was that.

The mayor of New Jorgenstohn was a squat, potbellied man, with a thin mustache and round glasses- not a particularly rough looking sort, and about as intimidating as a hamster. “Hamster” was actually quite an accurate descriptor of his look, with his wide round eyes and twitching nose. He wore a plaid grey suit jacket, and was nothing if not well dressed.

“Mister Von Tracht.” The mayor had deigned to have your conversation in his office; it was a simple affair of a room, with plain cut furniture, but no shortage of décor scattered about in an attempt to bring some culture to the place; a fancy lampshade, prints of paintings, and a plush rug were all vain attempts to turn the utilitarian into the chic. “I am Lambart Gespie, mayor of New Jorgenstohn…I believe we have heard of each other, but have not had the courtesy of meeting-“

“I’ve never heard of you.” You said bluntly. You hadn’t been trying to be mean, but the mayor deflated somewhat.

“Well.”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions concerning your daughter,” you went on, walking over to the writing desk and peering over it; it was heavily laden with records, reference, the usual… “We’d like to find out what happened to her, after having gone missing…two nights ago? I suppose the constables were given a day to try and figure it out.”

“Yes, but, they were not very useful…”

Naturally. “Would you say your daughter was particularly loyal to her country?”

The mayor began to sweat. “Mister Von Tracht, I am not comfortable with this line of questioning. You don’t mean to imply-“

“I’m not a kommissar, mayor,” you interjected, “I am from Strossvald. I just want to find out what happened. Unless I should ask somebody else about her.”

“Well,” Mayor Gespie took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his head, “Dear Elly, she was…well, I prefer to keep her inside, or nearby. These lands aren’t as safe as they could be, as we’ve found out…she was quite talkative with guests. I wouldn’t say she held any sympathies for anybody but her countryfolk, though…what are you looking for?”

The mayor had asked the latter as you started shifting through his desk drawers. “Some paper. I want to take notes. Ah, here’s some.” You took out a piece, then withdrew the note left by “Ellowians-“ both pages were the same shade of bleached white, fine grain paper. The mayor turned as white as the paper. “Would you care to explain something to me, Mister Gespie?” you asked.

“Er,” he swallowed hard, “…We can come to an agreement, surely. You must be short of comforts, fuel, things I can help get more of with my position…”

Hmph.

>Make a deal? [What?]
>No deal. He's under arrest.
>Other?

Also, you may guess what was actually going on this whole time, to place further pressure.

>>3412273
Huh this raises an interesting question about Richter as he clearly isn't willing to back down on his public honor in Strossvald and he acts forthright, sometimes. But what about among normal enemies and with a secret mission? We might actually need whatever supplies he can get for us.

As for why his daughter disappeared I have no idea, but it seems overall he's using the courier to embezzle town goods and sell on the down low, likely to the Twaryians. Easy for us to close the case if we do accept.

For one thing better food would be nice, I'm not really sure what else he access to except maybe contacts among the Twaryians if we really needed those.
Up to other Anons how to play this.

>>3412273
I'd say the mayor was stealing fuel and selling it to Twaryians, but then why go for this escapade with a fake abduction?
Unless his daughter discovered him and he decided to keep her under lock and key or ship her off to somewhere?

What we can get out of him, aside from fuel and food, is maybe a way to transport a letter that would be able to reach Maddy.

>>3412273
I agree with the other anons, probably selling fuel to the Twaryians and food to the UGZ (imagine the prices you could get on the black market)
Anyway I generally >>3412303 has said.
Better rations and more fuel would be good.
In this case I'd say rather the devil you know rather than the devil you don't;I doubt his replacement will be any less corrupt given they're basically throwing out all the people they don't want to colonize this place.

>>3412273
Embezzling supplies definitely seems like the most plausible option. Just want to make sure the daughter is safe and he didn't sell her to the Twaryians or something.
Also if we do choose to make a deal, could the next post have a specific list of things he can offer us?

>>3412273
>Make a deal? [What?]
Letters to Maddy, and his daughter's accompanying us to the dance. That way Anya will be off our back, he can even reimburse her for the dress.

>>3412399
This also sounds good along with the food and fuel.

>>3412399
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Stop collecting women!
They only cause problems!
Haven't this quest taught you anything?

>>3412418
>They only cause problems!
>Haven't this quest taught you anything?
If we have is daughter in the palm of our hand, he'll do whatever we want.

Plus, Anya won't have to wear a dress and Maddy gets to get letters from Richter.

It's a win-win-win-win.

Unless you're Hilda.

>>3412418
If we can get a letter to Maddy in time she can always come.

>>3412303
Also supporting this as well.

>>3412303
Supporting, I don't know what else he can provide and maybe explain where his daughter is.

>>3412767
To add on to this I don't think we should fly Maddy over. While it'd be great to get her expertise, among other things, doing so would put her in the gunsights of the IO as we would have to go through them to get her. She's a helluva lot safer over there and keeping our tank safe. A letter would be good though

We should definitely get him to supply us with fuel and foods use of his militia ect, but I don't want the the letter to maddy inviting her over it should just be a pick me up lovey dovey letter so she feels a little better.

I am actually up now.
Seems there's a general consensus to use this guy rather than put the hurt on him just yet- though knowing what he's capable of further would be good. As well as where his daughter is- since it's looking like he really ought to know.

And the possibility to snatch away his daughter to bring as arm candy I suppose? I guess we'll see if that can be a thing. Don't really know why but eh.

Also Maddy Mail Service.

Getting on that, finally.

>>3413233
>Don't really know why but eh.
I would second it because I definitely think we should take advantage of this guy but I feel like he could be more useful to us in the future when we really need a favor than just getting some generic supplies right now. So if we take on his daughter as a mistress/attendant/hostage he'll basically be in our pocket and we can pressure him for anything we might need a mayor for in the future, whether it's some specific supplies or information or militiamen or whatever.

“First off,” you paced back over and pointed the mayor over to his chair, “You tell me what’s going on. Then we can talk some more. For example, where is your daughter? The one that everybody claims went missing, was likely kidnapped? Since you’re suspicious thus far…”

“No, I would not do such a thing to my flesh and blood!” the mayor replied fearfully, “I’ll….I’ll tell you what happened…”

It took little pressure to make the squat man cave in. As it turned out, he had indeed been facilitating the smuggling of supplies and fuel to sell across the border, as you theorized- the calling cards of Ellowians had been to throw off any trail towards either of the conspirators in the plot. However, such did not answer why his daughter had gone missing.

“Ah. That.” The mayor slumped in his chair, “Elly…took a fancy to the man who I dealt with, who visited the house to meet with me. She was not kidnapped- I believe she went with them willingly, of their own accord. I requested that they bring her back immediately, and they refused…so…”

“If that was the case, why not simply state from the start that it was the Twaryians?”

The mayor wiped his face with his handkerchief once more. “I had rather hoped you would not find out anything else about these goings on. These lands are dangerous, I am risking quite a lot, the people of this town are risking much, surely we deserve some more in the short term for this risk…”

“That’s nice.” You didn’t really care about the mayor’s justifications for what he did, but you did care about what he could do for you; it wasn’t a matter of personal gain for you. It was your ability to further conduct your mission; you doubted this mayor’s replacement, should you have him arrested for his crimes, would be any better; it would be best to stick with the evil, as it was said, that you knew, and could control. “So. What can you do for me, that I’ll look over your misstep?”

The mayor blinked at you. “I…you couldn’t bring my daughter back first, could you?”

“Motivate me to do more than I ought to.” You said firmly.

The mayor, once again, gushed forth with favors. A share of the money? You refused; more practical favors were requested. So the mayor offered food and laborers- as well as fuel, which you were short of. Not necessarily diesel, either; the dispatchers would allow either, all that would be required was a bit of fudging of reasons, and a portion of the fuel ration would be useable for your vehicles…something equivalent to a quarter of your allotment per week. Beyond what was offered there, though, he couldn’t think of anything- though he did offer to do his best on what you might think of, he reminded that this was a small town.

“You have contacts, yes?” you asked, “Channels you can send things along? How about mail?”

The mayor blinked dumbly. “Mail? I…I don’t see why you would need that, but, yes, I can have things delivered. Letters…to where?”

“Strossvald.”

The mayor sagged some more, looking very much like an unhappy toad. “…I suppose I could find a way.”

You also thought about the possibility of having his daughter be your escort over Anya. A mere possibility; it was good to have options. You didn’t even know what the mayor’s daughter even looked like, after all- not particularly anything more than a passing thought, but from another angle, it was another hook to get in the mayor for anything else you might need from him…perhaps better to think on that more later, though.

“So will you bring my daughter back?” the mayor asked hopefully.

>You could submit a formal request to be passed along to the Twaryian embassy. It would probably result in nothing. The mayor should be thankful he got that much, though.
>So far as you could see it, she went willingly; there was no abduction. Would the Twaryians listen to diplomacy should you head on over? Probably not, but you supposed there wasn’t any reason to not try that first.
>Agree that you’ll bring her back. Even though you’ll probably have to sneak over with a few people and *actually* kidnap her to do it.
>You had an armed party and a tank. What better excuse to make a raid? Certainly it would make a mess of things, and potentially invite reprisals, but you were here to sow discord, were you not?
>Other?
Also;
>Anything else you can think of demanding from the mayor?
Additionally on top of that-
>Write Maddalyn a letter?
And if so, describe the contents. Actually demanding you write a letter would be autistic, I’m not saying to do that. Things like if it’s a simple update and well wishing, something sappy, or whether to include a bald faced proclamation that you’re going to ravish her blind, if you’re feeling like being a bully.

>>3413379
>whether to include a bald faced proclamation that you’re going to ravish her blind if you’re feeling like being a bully.

Voting for that before I pick anything else

>>3413384
Perhaps a different adjective than blind though, considering

you know

>>3413379
>You had an armed party and a tank. What better excuse to make a raid? Certainly it would make a mess of things, and potentially invite reprisals, but you were here to sow discord, were you not?

I want to run this by the IO before we do anything though, if they accept sure let's do it.

>whether to include a bald faced proclamation that you’re going to ravish her blind if you’re feeling like being a bully.

also do this

>>3413379
>include a bald faced proclamation that you’re going to ravish her blind
I think we already did that....

Now for the actual vote
>Other? Roll up to the embassy with an armored car and some infantrymen, then conduct diplomacy to get the ambassador's daughter back.

I'll get back to write Maddy's letter in a bit. Or vote for someone who has a better idea than I do.

>>3413395
I'll support this; clear it with our handler first. Teasing aside also talk to her about all the spooky shit in Ellowie, also potentially how to deal with Emma if things go wonky. Also the general well wishes, any problems or worries she has LOL , will try to keep in touch so if you can find any way to smuggle mail back or any long distance magic communication thingy please do.

>>3413402
yes all this stuf

>>3413379
Count me in for the general vote of
>Ask permission to rumble the border
>Go be bad dudes
>Write dirty, spooky letters to Mads

>>3413556
Same. The world won't miss a bunch of Twaryians.

>>3413556
Works for me. Keep it stiff and formal as per Richter's demeanor.

Also I hope we just write it out and Richter forgets that it needs to be written in blood.

>>3413379
>you were here to sow discord, were you not?
Were we? I thought our standing orders were just to watch and wait.

>>3414448
That's why I want to get clearance with the IO before do anything hasty.

>>3413808
Shit yeah eh, forgot about the blood thing. Let's hope Richter's got enough blood in him for a decent paragraph or two.

I am finally back.

>>3413395
>>3413396
>>3413402
>>3413556
>>3413658

No holds barred- but get permission from the Major first.

>>3413384
>>3413395
>>3413402
>>3413402
>>3413556
Write a dirty letter to your fiancee. With side notes.

>>3413808
>>3414524
Richter doesn't need to write in blood; Maddalyn just needs it to be handwritten.
What's actually written in blood are her soulbinder texts; for reasons that even after the text fades, the presence of such remains behind. Or so she says.

>>3414448
Technically it's to do such until an opportunity presents itself; whether one has here is up to personal discretion.

Seems it's time to meet with the elusive Major, then. I'll get to writing.

>>3414554
Wait until after the raid and we'll write it in Twaryian blood anyway, you know, make it extra romantic and long lasting

>>3414588
Waiting for after a combat mission to write a love letter is such a huge death flag that I don't even know.

>>3414588
Do you want to be inquisitioned? Because this is how you get inquisitioned.

“I’ll have to speak with somebody,” you told the mayor, “but if I get the right answer from them, I’ll tell you what I can do in exchange for your help. I can take my people and make a raid into Twaryian held territory to get your daughter back. But.” You held up a finger, “A down payment, of sorts. I want you to deliver a letter for me. It must go to the Blumlands, in Strossvald, though I imagine a person such as you can easily find somebody to take it far enough to be sent there, without it being intercepted.”

“I suppose I can try…” you titled an eyebrow at the mayor. “I mean, I can have it done, of course…do, do you have the letter..?”

“Not yet.” You were still pondering what to put in it; til now, it hadn’t seemed like something you could sneak in, but now that the opportunity was here… “I will give it to you when I return from my meeting. Do me a favor and inform the people that I am on my way to address the problem, but until then, I will be leaving the contingent I came here with to guard against any mischief…by Ellowians, or Twaryians.” You started to make for the door, “Twaryians, I think, will be the preferable scapegoat.”

-----

The Major was not a woman who was easy to reach; she was the one who called for you, not the other way around. That wasn’t to say it was impossible, but you would have to make…preparations. Else she wouldn’t deem that it was important enough. Right from when you had met it was clear the Major hadn’t liked you, and her opinion of you hadn’t improved in the slightest. Her speech towards you was curt and short, and she never failed to make a cut at you given the chance. Von Metzeler indicated that this was simply how the Major treated everybody, but the Intelligence Office operative had her ways of making it feel personal.

The first thing to do was get to Kamienisty, the settlement on the railhead, where she resided. She never came to your camp; and claimed she would never do so unless the matter were truly dire. Because no woman who knew what was good for her would wish to seek you out otherwise. This required you to head back to your camp, and then call for the staff car to take you to the railhead; going there via tank had been a mistake it had only taken one severe tongue lashing on your lack of sense of subtlety to not think of repeating.

You wanted to take your mind off that particular dread, for now, as the tank rolled back towards camp. A good distraction would be what you were going to put in your letter to Maddalyn; you decided that it should most certainly be flirtatious; something fun, dirty, teasing foremost over anything else. However, when you thought about the words to choose…you’d never been the sort of poetry or expression through literature. Most of the books you read were informational, and any dramatic speech was secondary to a proper account, ideally. You supposed you could simply send a letter declaring your intent to return and ravish Maddalyn’s tiny body until she lost her mind, but yet, there was something…lacking in that.

It was artificial, you decided. Lacking in romance. Maddalyn had clearly been uncomfortable enough with the subject in the past to specifically request against it, so you felt that you had to dress things up somehow. Yet, when you called upon your feelings for Maddalyn to provide an answer, it was, like your battle senses…sleepy. Dragging its metaphorical feet. Was it because you hadn’t so much as seen or corresponded with her in so long? Had your affection faded, or was it merely dormant? It almost felt, like so many things, that she was slowly but surely slipping out of your head.

It wasn’t something you wanted to discuss with anybody, either. However, if it was the subject of love letters…that was something you felt comfortable talking about with your crew.

“So what,” Hans replied to your general query, “You want to her to meet you at the station with no knickers on?”

“…I suppose I couldn’t complain about that.” The thought stirred nothing within. Like it had been heard but not listened to. Maybe you were just distracted.

“No, I mean, what do you want her to feel?” Hans insisted.

“I can’t believe Hans is the one giving you advice on how to treat women.” Stein grumbled.

“Herear,” Malachi burbled, “Neneatyeards. Feeleseard betterwahrds.”

“Malachi here would tell you to just write in big fat words, I’m gonna stick it in ya.”

“Esnahtsey.” Malachi, for once, protested against what was being interpreted.

What you wanted her to feel, though, huh..?

“Most of all, I think I want her to feel…”

>…Desired
>…Aroused
>…Relieved
>…Remembered
>Forget anything about that. Anything you’d think too hard about would be fake anyways. It would probably annoy her, but it’d be best off to just be brazen and teasing. Maybe that would make you sound dumb, but the worst thing would be to seem dishonest.
>Other?

Long time for not that much, sorry. Today ended up being tiring.

>>3414886
>…Desired
>…Remembered
Based on her interlude.

>>3414886
And, of course, don't forget to mention that we couldn't deliver letters before and have only just now found a way.

>>3414886
This >>3414907

>>3414886
r you bulgarian Taня гoтинa иcтopия инaчe

>>3414907
I'd normally back this but meta-wise Richter technically doesn't know anything about her interlude.

>…Remembered

If he feels like he's losing memories of her then it'd be best if he worked on keeping her in his head.

>>3414907
>>3414913
this

>>3414907
+1

>>3414886

>…Desired
>…Remembered

I am here.

>>3414907
>>3414913
>>3414918
>>3415005
>>3415181
>>3415471
Desired, and Remembered.

>>3414979
Special emphasis on remembering. Are you forgetting something?

>>3414925
Uh.

Writing now.

>>3415962
>Are you forgetting something?
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

>>3415962
>Are you forgetting something?
Oh shit

>>3416021
>>3416035
It wasn't anything serious, just memeing Valen because Remembering.

“…I think I know what I’ll write.” You decided.

“…Gonna share any of that?” Hans prompted.

“No.” you answered. “I hardly need any aid in spoiling the prose.” You went out the cupola again, and let the misty air fill your nostrils; the contemplation about your missive couldn’t be had in a stuffy metal box full of grease.

-----

In the brief time you spent at camp waiting for your assigned staff car to be dispatched, you worked on your letter; by hand. Maddalyn couldn’t read printed type for whatever reason, though you weren’t about to question how spirits and such differentiated written word and letters pressed into page; perhaps it was the intent? Who knew? So long as it meant she could read it.

Indecisiveness plagued the very first word. Should you call Maddalyn by a pet name? Or have things be more formal? You weren’t used to being so uncertain.


Dearest Maddalyn,
Not a day goes by where I do not think about

…that was a painfully cliché line, wasn’t it? No, you had to keep going.

Not a day goes by where I do not think about your company, your warmth, the feeling of your touch, your embrace.

A time came to mind where somebody had asked you to remind them of your fiancée’s name. It was a shock then to have actually forgotten it, for but a moment. Nobody noticed. You hoped.

Until now, I have been unable to convey to you my desire to see you once more. The struggle of deciding whether to hold you in my arms or keep you safe at home cuts me in two, as I cannot decide whether one or the other is the correct choice. Strange things are afoot in Ellowie, things that make me want for your accompaniment even further, however, I would never want a single scratch to tarnish your precious body.

Should any troubles stress you at home, I assure you, you have my sympathies, and my promise to act swiftly upon them when I return. Do not hesitate to share your troubles. My own problems are many, but they are naught compared to any that would result in your unhappiness. Should you find some way to reply to me more efficiently than this, do not hesitate to contact me in such a way.

I would be remiss to not mention my desire for your company in ways difficult to put to words.

…Here was where you ceased holding back.

When we meet once more, such is my need for you that your virginity will be unable to be tolerated any further. I will spend the entire day and night plundering it from your tiny body, and you will be ravished so passionately that you will go blind.
Love,
Richter Von Tracht

…That should do it, no? No need to think of it longer! Straight from the heart! Perhaps. Not like you couldn’t make a rewrite later…but you shouldn’t need to.

The staff car came, and you tucked the letter into your pocket. Right after meeting with the Major, after all, you intended to exploit your new contact to deliver your warning to Maddy as soon as possible; word had to be sent as soon as possible that her womb was about to come under siege.

…Never actually say that. An odd voice of reason said within.

-----

The staff car ride itself would be pleasant compared to what would come up. Said staff car was not what would normally be considered such; it was a bulky construction with steel plates welded to its doors, with a machine gun mounted on a swivel in the back, and four seats in front of such, two of which would be carrying submachinegun-armed guards; something meant to be intimidating to any potential ambushers. It wasn’t perfect protection; you’d heard of improvised explosive devices and scavenged mines being used against convoys (such were also used against individual vehicles, of course, but you’d heard they were saved for juicier targets than yourself), but this was at least good enough to prevent opportunistic individuals from taking a shot at you without at least thinking twice.

The Major was more intimidating than any Ellowian insurgents by your measure, though. Especially the ones that Anya had made contact with- such had given you some insurance, on top of being with an Ellowian integration unit, of making you any sort of important target or a target at all, but the Netillians didn’t know that. If any new groups wandered in the day you decided to take a bicycle anyways, you’d look rather silly.

Kamienisty itself was somewhere between a large town and a small city, situated at the end of the rail line into Netillian controlled Ellowian territory; the rails went on, but the next station was in Twaryian controlled territory, so this place, for now, was the end of the track. It was also heavily garrisoned, by another company from the 5th Combined Light Infantry Battalion, who guarded the station, the entry roads, as well as the depots, each of which were not trusted to the local police for protection.

Your escort dropped you off at a checkpoint and left you to your devices to wander the town itself. Kamienisty was rather firmly decided to be safe; especially because of its heavy garrison. It was only the in-between that was questionable. Of course, the Major wouldn’t be found anywhere where there the Netillians kept a careful eye- you had to go to the downtown, to a fairly upscale bar, which had somehow escaped looting of any kind- Netillians didn’t so much as go near to it, though. It was said that the owner of the establishment was the bastard brother of Wladysaw X, uncle of the High Protector, but such had never been openly stated by the place, as far as you knew; you only knew that the usual tender, whenever you had come to arrange a meeting with the Major, was a one eyed man with a sharply cropped white beard who carried himself with the bearing of one above the common man, who never treated anybody disrespectfully, and without any doubt whatsoever, was one of royal blood; however, he was also not the owner.

The Major had two instructions to arrange a meeting with her; that you tell the bartender that you intended to stay awhile, and that you order something you think she would like. Thus far, you had failed to accomplish the second one. The first time you ordered a beer, and she critically asked if you had a brain between your ears. The second time, you asked for an expensive wine, whereupon the Major had asked if you though that she had a brain, as well as a sense of taste.

Technically it wasn’t important; she had arrived both those times, and it appeared that the actual second requirement for meeting her was just so she could get free booze, while also sniping at you. It spoke of a challenge to you, though; and you hated to lose by forfeit if you could help it.

>You were feeling romantic. Not towards the Major, Judge Above, but it made you feel like asking for something saucy and smooth.
>Something that scorched the throat and senses alike. Maybe she’d think it funny.
>Order water. Maybe it’s a trick to get actual alcohol.
>Other ideas/actions?

>>3416157
>>Order water. Maybe it’s a trick to get actual alcohol.

>>3416157
>>Order water. Maybe it’s a trick to get actual alcohol.
From what's been described alcohol seems wasted on her.

>>3416157
>>Order water. Maybe it’s a trick to get actual alcohol.

>>3416157
>Order water. Maybe it’s a trick to get actual alcohol

>>3416157
>Other ideas/actions?
Prune juice

>>3416161
>>3416169
>>3416214
>>3416231
Water, because it's a trick question.

>>3416234
An implication.

Writing now, then.

A tall, cold glass of plain water was your latest idea of what the Major would “like.” The barkeep gave you a funny look, but you had a little confidence of this choice; maybe the right answer all along was something non-alcoholic, lacking in flavor, and most importantly, completely free. You didn’t dare touch it; the time with the beer, the Major had noticed the smudge from your fingerprints on the glass, and had coolly told you not to touch her drink, thank you.

So you waited, as the bartender retreated to a rear room; he always did this, and in some time, the Major would arrive. It was always unmistakable when she did; it was the sound her heels made when she stepped across the tiled floor of this establishment, and the particular cadence of her long, steady steps, like a predator was coming from behind.

Clack. Clack Clack.

Soon enough, there it was. You didn’t turn to face her. The air changed, a slight wind from her stepping up next to you; you saw her dark-leather gloved hand touch a finger upon the rim of the glass.

“Water.” The Major’s voice rang low and clear, like it rose from the bottom of a pristine pool. She wore a dark scarlet leather coat, red enough to be noticeable; not enough to stand out. Long, well groomed and straight dark hair fell to her chest and down her back. Her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, the only adornment on a dour and sharp face that, one would be forced to admit, was quite fetching. It would have been prettier if you saw anything on it other than the expression of a disappointed professor whose hand itched for a switch. “Lieutenant. Water is needed to live. But do you know anybody that likes water? Nobody with any complexity. I suppose you did not intend that, unless you truly do lack intellect. The situation I presented was no trick. Your answers are continuously lazy.” She slid the glass down the bar. “Try next time.”

You set your mouth. “Perhaps it is vodka or grain alcohol. You didn’t even bother smelling it.”

“I will not drink what I know is water hoping for something better. I may as well drink urine and hope it is mead. Hope is not a force of transmutation, no matter how many alchemists may have wanted otherwise.” She stepped around to the other side of you, and you felt a tug at your pocket; a look confirmed that she was withdrawing your letter to Maddalyn.

“Wait-“ you started to stand.

”Sit.” your knees went weak without you willing them to, as the Major slowly pushed on your head with her right hand, towering above you as she shook the letter open in her left and regarded it icily. You didn’t know why, but part of what made the Major so scary was that she had such a forceful way of acting, of speaking, something made your body respond before your mind did; and your mind frequently didn’t have better ideas anyways. “…Hah.” The Major folded the letter back up. “How adorable. Don’t be frustrated, Lieutenant,” she patted you on the head condescendingly, “I am sure your fiancée will appreciate your overbearing attempts, even if they are as titillating as the water you put before me. Though I would not place this letter beside a photograph of her, were I you.” She slipped the letter back into your pocket. “…I suppose you have found a means of conveyance for this lewd letter. It is good of you to be acting more independently.”

The Major never told you of her specific plans or about other operatives, or if they were even there. Operational security, she said.

“I wished to speak to you concerning something…”

“Speak freely. None are here that you need worry about. Look around you.”

You did; the bar was empty, naturally; it being still before noon. Any bugs, the Major had informed you, would be hers. You had no reason to not believe her.

“I want to make a raid into Twaryian territory,” you said in a low voice, “To rescue a young woman abducted by the easterners. Well, rather, not abducted, but she has been requested to return home. I saw an opportunity to cause mischief while gaining an ally as well.”

“So you came to ask me if you should.”

“Should I not have?”

The Major put her hand on a hip and leaned on one leg. “Perhaps if you had a better offering than water. Consider your character, Von Tracht. Your history. Do you think it would surprise me in the slightest for you to venture over the border and cause trouble in an independent operation?”

“That last time was a mission that was given.”

“You volunteered for it.” The Major corrected. “Unless you wish to contest the records. Your lineage is known to thirst for adventure. I measured my expectations accordingly. If you believe that you can act in such a way as to topple my plans, let alone those of those higher than I, however,” she pressed a hand on your shoulder and leaned next to your ear. “Then you underestimate me.” She rose again, keeping her hand on you. “I understand that you wish to be careful, however. Perhaps you merely need to express what your future intent is? Then you will at least be secure in having said it yourself.”

She lingered upon that, which meant she expected an answer to it. “You may also,” she noted, “Try again with the drink, if you wish. Perhaps to try to avoid disappointing me three times in a row.”

>The Twaryians should be provoked, in your opinion. The most opportunities to exploit would crop up the more chaos was sown throughout the Border Gap, the more tension between Twaryi and Netilland. So such was what you wanted to do.
>Netilland was the barrier between Strossvald and the East, its new wall between it and Twaryi, and Caelus. With the Reich on its other flank, should Strossvald not want Netilland to grow stronger? Such would be how you thought matters would be sensible to sway towards, at least.
>The destruction of Ellowie was an upset in the balance of continental power. Netilland had been a nation of enemies for generations, in spite of the Archduchy’s goodwill, could they be relied upon to be allies? You thought much more of Ellowie’s resurgence being the best route, as ambitious as that was. Its army was not confirmed to have been destroyed; and its people hardly seemed cowed.
>Other?
Also
>Try again? And if so, with what?

>>3416525
>>The Twaryians should be provoked, in your opinion. The most opportunities to exploit would crop up the more chaos was sown throughout the Border Gap, the more tension between Twaryi and Netilland. So such was what you wanted to do.
>Try again? And if so, with what?
Whiskey?

>>3416525
>The Twaryians should be provoked, in your opinion. The most opportunities to exploit would crop up the more chaos was sown throughout the Border Gap, the more tension between Twaryi and Netilland. So such was what you wanted to do.
Twaryians are retards, Netillians are cunts.

>>3416540
>>3416556
Why would you want a country as strong or stronger than Strossvald?

>The destruction of Ellowie was an upset in the balance of continental power. Netilland had been a nation of enemies for generations, in spite of the Archduchy’s goodwill, could they be relied upon to be allies? You thought much more of Ellowie’s resurgence being the best route, as ambitious as that was. Its army was not confirmed to have been destroyed; and its people hardly seemed cowed.

>>3416525
>Try again? And if so, with what?
Milkies

>>3416567
It's not that they get stronger, it's that they fight each other.

>>3416567
If not a resurgent Ellowie we should at least aim for constant stalemate between Twaryi and Netilland.

>>3416567
If we wanted Netilland to be stronger we'd pick the second option.

>>3416571
Yeah but worst case scenario with trying to support an Ellowian revolution would be it's crushed and then Netilland and Twaryi can still fight over the land, in the best case the balance of power would go back to normal. I don't think the IO exactly wants that but I'd say it's likely Richter sees it that way.

>>3416525
>>3416570
I also support milk.

>>3416525
>>The Twaryians should be provoked, in your opinion. The most opportunities to exploit would crop up the more chaos was sown throughout the Border Gap, the more tension between Twaryi and Netilland. So such was what you wanted to do.

>>3416570
also yes for milk

>>3416570
>>3416591
>>3416599
She's gonna get annoyed even more, isn't she? Though I guess that's our own small way of getting back at her.

File: Spoiler Image (642 KB, 613x637)

642 KB PNG

>>3416525
>The destruction of Ellowie was an upset in the balance of continental power. Netilland had been a nation of enemies for generations, in spite of the Archduchy’s goodwill, could they be relied upon to be allies? You thought much more of Ellowie’s resurgence being the best route, as ambitious as that was. Its army was not confirmed to have been destroyed; and its people hardly seemed cowed.

>Try again? And if so, with what?
>I may as well drink urine and hope it is mead
Maybe that's her way of propositioning us

>>3416540
>>3416556
>>3416594
Prompt chaos, and war; in the ashes the Archduchy will triumph.

>>3416567
>>3416665
Ellowie should be free, as is proper- the continent will crumble should the balance not be kept, and the Archduchy with it.

>>3416540
Whiskey for the proof

>>3416570
>>3416591
>>3416599
...Milk. Well, alright then. I wonder what that could be interpreted to mean.

Working on update now, then.

>>3416665
>Maybe that's her way of propositioning us
You tread a dangerous path, but I would guess you already knew that when you set out on that road.

>>3416525
Milk is fine although I agree that prune juice would get more of the point across.

>The Twaryians should be provoked, in your opinion. The most opportunities to exploit would crop up the more chaos was sown throughout the Border Gap, the more tension between Twaryi and Netilland. So such was what you wanted to do.
>The destruction of Ellowie was an upset in the balance of continental power. Netilland had been a nation of enemies for generations, in spite of the Archduchy’s goodwill, could they be relied upon to be allies? You thought much more of Ellowie’s resurgence being the best route, as ambitious as that was. Its army was not confirmed to have been destroyed; and its people hardly seemed cowed.

Honestly best case is both:

Getting Ellowie to reform, it helps that we have a bunch of them in our unit and have connections with some of their rebellion. Also if a large portion of their military withdrew into Sosaldt they could used if not for a reborn Ellowie then at least to wear down the two other countries

It'd be kinda like how the Reich has to occupy Halmeggia depriving them of the resources. While also potentially getting both countries into another war at the same time.

File: 439.jpg (46 KB, 778x512)

46 KB JPG

>milkies

File: tcqscene139.png (233 KB, 582x800)

233 KB PNG

“I would think that the ideal course of action,” you drew a shape on the counter, “Is to provoke the Twaryians. As tensions increase, so do opportunities to exploit. Surely that would benefit your plans. In the end, should the two come to blows, the Archduchy should triumph over both, yes? Yet in doing so, it would also grant an opportunity for Ellowie to be reformed. Even if that is too ambitious, there are no shortage of supporters for such a cause, which provides even more options.”

“Hm. All for the Archduchy, hm?” The Major put her hand on her head and rubbed it through your cap, “You’re a good dog, aren’t you? Small wonder Willen is so fond of you.”

“…” you ignored the comparison to a canine. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I haven’t bought you your drink yet. Barkeep?” you called down the way to the white bearded man, who had stepped away from you and the Major, “A glass of milk, if you please.”

The Major said nothing, and, presumably seeing the lack of objection from the frightening, tall woman, indeed got what you requested, eyeing you sideways the whole time. He, you, and the Major were all silent as the ring of the glass sliding across the wooden counter was the only sound besides the bustle outside, and after it slowly span to a half, the white froth washing against a decorative metallic rim on the glass, there was still no sound from within the establishment.

“Your drink,” you offered, “Mother.”

“…Better than the other attempt. A modicum of wit to it. However.” The Major picked up the glass of milk, still looking down at you behind the tinted lenses of her sunglasses, “The first thing you did when you were unsure was run to [i[mommy, hm? I’m afraid, Lieutenant, that my parenting methods are hardly orthodox.” She kicked out your stool from under you, and caught you with one arm. ”Be still.” She took the glass of milk and tilted it towards your face. “It’ll be better if you open up.”

“Hrrarrllggrlghhrrgh” you protested as the Major dumped your drink over your face, seeming to aim to pour it up your nose rather than in your mouth, before just upending the whole thing over you and letting you fall on the ground.

“Do as you will,” the Major said to you dully as you coughed and sputtered on the floor, “Your idea of the objectives are sound enough. As long as you do not think you are making a needless mess of things, even your dull senses should inform you enough of whether or not to follow through. Before we meet again, perhaps you should learn some lessons in being a gentleman from your fellow officer, lest we repeat this once more.” The Major took one step, then turned on her heel back to you. “Ah yes. News you may be interested in. The Minister of the People of the Republic of Mittelsosalia will be visiting the Border Gap soon. Not here, but further up the line, or so is said. An old friend of yours. Perhaps you will want to visit them, perhaps not. They’re scheduled to come in about a week and a half as part of their diplomatic mission to Netilland. Apparently, with their northern expansion and the influx of Ellowian refugees into Sosaldt and beyond to Mittelsosalia, the young leader has been forced further onto the world stage. Just something that might be interesting to you.”

“Urghh…” you groaned. Though…the Minister of the People…Mittelsosalia…Mittelsosalia was the new name of what had been called the Republic of Vang. You’d seen news of it ascending; chaotically. Sosaldt was apparently undergoing restructuring, as the last bastions of anarchy saw what way the winds were blowing, and territories began to centralize again. Plenty had decided to cast their strength in with Mittelsosalia. The Minister of the People, appointed to her position by the Congress of Representatives of People and State, was Cyclops, known outside of her nom de guerre as Signy Vang.

Why was she coming here, you wondered? Though you supposed the Major had just told you. Diplomacy. Why to the Border Gap, though? Perhaps to inspect the plight of the Ellowians? Ellowie had been a democratic republic, after all; and as far as you had known, a well-functioning one. Something Signy must have found to be a bastion of freedom, a place of good in the world- and it had been conquered.

You picked yourself off the floor. A week and a half. You’d have time to figure out later how, and if, you wanted to handle this.

For now, though, you had gotten the approval you thought you needed, regardless of what the Major thought about you being able to simply do it on your own. Should you do it, you wondered, or delegate..?

>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.
>You were the commander, but that didn’t mean you had to do everything yourself. Perhaps task Von Metzeler with doing the “rescue,” with aid from the troops already put forward. You would have to take your tank back that way if you wanted to participate anyways, it didn’t have to be you.
>You didn’t need support for this; it was a small scale raid. A subtle affair…on foot, with only a few people. That was something you’d done before…even if it was riskier, and wouldn’t do as good a job at making a scene for the Twaryians to gawk at, maybe you didn’t need to make so much trouble so soon.
>Other?

File: image0 (1).jpg (34 KB, 1024x576)

34 KB JPG

Fuck I've come to a revelation. I'm changing my vote from
>>3416567
to
>Netilland was the barrier between Strossvald and the East, its new wall between it and Twaryi, and Caelus. With the Reich on its other flank, should Strossvald not want Netilland to grow stronger? Such would be how you thought matters would be sensible to sway towards, at least.

I've been reading through the old threads and I'm at the part where the Dawnseekers conspiracy is being revealed to be a Reich plant job, and it's highly likely a lot of nobility including the Von Blums are in on destabilizing Strossvald and throwing open the Imperial Gates by making Valsten the Archdukes prime target while Reich troops walk through the Imperial Gates. Considering this, I think the Reich's goal is to just make Sossalian states fight each other as much as possible while they do all their political machinations and shit. Including perhaps maybe even infiltrating Strossvald's fucking secret police. So I think having Netilland and Twaryi fighting is actually what the Reich wants. It seems extremely short sighted to just be considering the "Balance of power" in relation Strossvald's local hegemony when the resurgent Reich is breathing down its back. Of course, maybe this IO officer wants Richter to make Netilland and Twaryi fight and even become the fall guy later, who fucking knows.

tl;dr: It's too fucking late anyway but the Reich is probably winning and maybe that's a good thing

>>3417258
>>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.

>>3417258
>>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.
Might as well go all in now. Before we go though talk to Hilda.

>>3417254
That was almost as bad as the piano, damn it.
>>3417258
>>You didn’t need support for this; it was a small scale raid. A subtle affair…on foot, with only a few people. That was something you’d done before…even if it was riskier, and wouldn’t do as good a job at making a scene for the Twaryians to gawk at, maybe you didn’t need to make so much trouble so soon.

File: maxresdefault.jpg (79 KB, 1280x720)

79 KB JPG

>>3417254
>“Hm. All for the Archduchy, hm?” The Major put her hand on her head and rubbed it through your cap, “You’re a good dog, aren’t you? Small wonder Willen is so fond of you.”

If this doesn't scream Reich agent I don't know what does. WE NEED TO BREAK THE CONDITIONING AND SAVE NOT ONLY STROSSVALD, BUT THE WORLD FROM REICH EXPANSION!

Unless breaking the conditioning is basically just a game over. You'd tell us, right tanq?

>>3417262
Eh, I have some reservations about that anon. While it is in the Reich's interest to have Sosalia divided, no way in hell will the Strossvald aristocracy even be thinking about collaborating with the Reich, given what the Kaiser did to the Czeissan nobility (like Owl 3's family)
Anyway honestly from what we've seen so far, IMO most of the Sosalian states are kind of useless militarily given their decentralisation (Sosaldt,Plisseau) or the fact that Strossvald can take them on and win pretty easily.(Valsten,Netilland)
In this case I'd say the main thing is Strossvald really doesn't want a two-front war if the Reich comes rolling over the Gates so the more time Twaryi and their masters get bogged down trying to occupy this place the better.
>>3417280
Should honestly just refuse next time.

>>3417284
> no way in hell will the Strossvald aristocracy even be thinking about collaborating with the Reich

Metzeler and Richter both speculate it would be very likely that lower nobility and disenfranchised second sons and shit who have no land themselves to look forward to could very well be collaborating for the Reich. If it's not a large amount of nobility it's definitely at least some. Metzeler could be wrong of course but he doesn't seem like someone to throw accusations like that around senselessly and if he as someone who is in the world is considering it might be true I'd at least say it's very well possible

>>3417289
I could see a bunch of defectors but no way in hell the major nobles like Von Blum will think about it. They benefit so much from the current political system which will all be gone if Strossvald simply becomes another Reich protectorate. We've already seen that the Kaiser is willing to purge them if their influence is a threat to is rule.

>>3417297
Sure maybe it's not as wide ranging as I think but I still think it would be smart if the Sossalian states entered a general defense pact against the Reich of something, and the first step towards that I see is the two big powers of the region coming together in alliance.

And sure maybe a lot of Sossalian states don't have the best military but that's why you'd unite against Reich. It can't hurt.

>>3417283
>Unless breaking the conditioning is basically just a game over. You'd tell us, right tanq?

Only game over is getting killed. And even then that means you switch to Von Metzeler. And so on and so forth.

>>3417300
DESU I'd find it more interesting if the IO was seeking instead for Strossvald to become the Grossreich of Sosalia in order to have a state in the region to deal with the Kaiser as it were rather than all of them being some Czeissan fifth column. That should be people like Loch's job (assuming he actually is working for the Kaiser)
Though as a side note the interesting thing is we haven't heard much about the other major military powers on the continent who don't like the Reich(Emre and Naukland) so who knows how the political situation will be like with them involved.

>>3417258
>>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.

File: Spoiler Image (962 KB, 500x253)

962 KB GIF

>>3417254
>Drink the milk, Richter.

>>3417258
>>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.
Why not stop by our base and pick up another tank or two to bring with us on the raid?

>>3417329
Don't mind bringing Metzeler or Krause along yeah.

>>3417301
Oh god, what if the real bad end is running out of backup lives and winding up stuck at the bottom of the ladder as Malachi; all our friends dead, unable to speak to anybody but the occasional vagrant Mosshead and Richter's crazy-mouse-lady war widow. Is this hell?

>>3417335
We could always go back to Reinhold at that rate :)

>>3417339
>Comfy life in the Reich as an amateur women's boxing referee
Mite b cool

>>3417335
>Malachi
>Bottom of the ladder
????

We will have achieved ultimate power and the ability to use a tank to drift, freeing us from the chain of traumatized waifus unfortunately orbiting Richter's dick and giving us bitchin' green hair.

>>3417258
>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.

I think we need a spot of tankery to clear up some of the cobwebs.

>>3417258
>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.

We just have to make sure and spin it to them that we've been unofficially commanded to do this.

While I agree with Anons that believe the IO is up to something ultimately antagonistic to the Archduchy and Richter in particular, I don't think it is collaboration with the Reich. If I remember correctly, that it was only after we delivered the traitor Colonel to the local IO office that we even blipped on their radar.

One could argue that they just took the prisoner from us and let him go later, and then co-opted Richter to prevent us from causing more damage to their plans, but they'd have to be running some serious Shadowrun level double blinds when it'd be a lot simpler to simply disappear us.

>>3417368
Decided to go look back at the archives with all this talk about the IO and yeah in general the Archduke and the courts really don't trust them at all. So at least it's not like they're totally keeping everyone in the dark. However it does seem that their goals are aligned to a certain extent based on the interactions they have.

>>3416522
>>3417254

Hm. This is textbook emotional abuse.
Now, the question is whether she is simply revelling in her control over us or trying to strengthen this control by dominating us psychologically despite apparently having us under a hypnotic suggestion with her red text.

In any case, we don't have to play her games and guess at her drinking preferences. More likely than not there's no actual correct answer and it's just a psychological trick to put her in charge of our frame of mind.

>>3417258
>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.

>>3417300
I thought there was already a pact in place if the Reich attempted to invade, atleast there was in the original defunct quest

>>3417258
>>This was your idea, wasn’t it? You had a tank, did you not? Take the squad of Netillians you took to New Jorgenstohn and make that raid.


>>3407625
The tank's shape screams LVT

>>3417422
>More likely than not there's no actual correct answer
The one drink she might actually be happy with would be if we offered her a glass of our own sweat and blood, but it might not be worth the trouble to collect it.

I won't be running until a good bit later today; probably around 7-8PM EST, but I'll count the votes now.

>>3417263
>>3417267
>>3417323
>>3417329
>>3417361
>>3417368
>>3417422
>>3417638
Take this on, with allies.

>>3417280
You don't need any help, or any tank.

>>3417267
Go find your shadow.

>>3417329
Why only one tank? Why not get more in on the fun?

Pretty overwhelmingly towards making this event a party, but the latter two are decent options. So here's what I'll do; Until I get back at the aforementioned time, I'll have a vote open as such-

>Go speak with Hilda first? Or do this after coming back from the raid?
And
>Take another tank+officer? If so, which and who?

The options for another vehicle are listed here->>3408028
Though keep in mind that the aforementioned statement of the X-01 still applies; it is, for now, broken down.
Also maybe you want to give them nicknames that aren't X-Number. Your choice.

>>3418121
>>Go speak with Hilda first? Or do this after coming back from the raid?
Eh do it first. We don't want her fighting

>>3418121
>Go speak with Hilda first? Or do this after coming back from the raid?
Supporting >>3418131
>Take another tank+officer? If so, which and who?
Take Krause and let Metzeler hold the fort while we're gone. Bring one of the 50mm tanks.
As for alternative names, I was just thinking we could re-number them so they're easier to tell apart given the different gun sizes. So:
X-20 (Twin 20mm)
X-80 (80mm gun)
X-50,X-51,X-52 (50mm guns)
Saves us trouble having to look back.

>>3418121
>Go speak with Hilda first
>Don't take more tanks

Also supporting the naming scheme from >>3418170

>>3418170
supporting

Slept longer than I wanted to. Alarma just don't work it seems if I don't sleep for a minimum amount of time.

Anyways, writing soon, seems it's time to see Hilda and grab Krause to go along.

After managing to make yourself look more presentable, or at least, not completely milk stained, you departed the tavern to head back to base- it was time to start a fight. Finally. Maybe it would knock some rust off of your fighting senses; if it was rust, at least. Though something told you that it wasn’t rust; fighting had felt natural right out of the academy, and it had grown to be something less so. Could it be reinvigorated? Was it a good thing that you wanted to do so? It’d be hard to do your work here otherwise, you figured.

A slight change of original plans, though; since this was going to be a raid into Twaryian territory, you decided that you needed to take another tank, commanded by Junior Lieutenant Krause, so that Von Metzeler would continue to be the command authority back at company HQ, and though he didn’t have the unusual experience of dealing with large formations you had gained in Sosaldt, he had been your second in command most of that time; he was trustworthy. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Krause, of course. Just that he was the only other choice.

Speaking of reinforcement…no, certainly not reinforcement, in this case. She was ill. That was on top of plenty of other things, but she never claimed that said things hindered her.
It wasn’t impossible to think Hilda was lying to you whenever she insisted that she was alright. She’d only admitted to being ill enough to have a doctor check on her when she couldn’t keep any food down for a whole morning, and was practically falling over from fever (the doctor was of course utterly baffled by her burns, but accepted that they were something old and…dealt with). Even still, she had taken off last night, saying she’d be back in the morning. However, when you arrived back at camp to see if she had come back, she was still absent.

You knew Hilda could take care of herself. She insisted such since you’d met her. Yet…

Hilda near always hid her face, as well as keeping her arms bound up in wrappings up to almost her shoulders. It hid her scars, as well as twisted grey and black burned that had solidified into odd patterns wherever their mark on her was dense enough. You could tell that she didn’t like being looked at; you didn’t demand such, though whenever you had her around for her literacy lessons that you had promised, you noticed that she shed her heavy canvas overcoat, whereupon her low cut sleeveless blouse made it easy to see what appeared to be the one section of Hilda that hadn’t been cut apart or burned. Her heavy bosom had a nature of drawing the eye that you weren’t particularly proud of, especially when she noticed your eyes flicking there of their own accord, and didn’t seem to mind at all.

However, even though she kept a scarf bound tightly over her lower face whenever she could, when you were teaching Hilda letters, grammar, calligraphy (her handwriting was still utterly terrible even now), she seemed…happy. Her voice toned higher and lighter, she was eager to please, though, in doing so, she did her best to sidle as closely to you as possible…until she detected that it was discomforting you, whereupon she would back off, only for the process to repeat itself again.

Though you had kept Emma inside, apparently Hilda still saw her; and Hilda was a continual source of disagreement between you and the increasingly frustrated spirit.

“She hurts all over,” Emma had complained to you, not for the first time. “I can remember things, you know. Hilda didn’t always look like she does now. I remember what she used to look like, used to feel like. I’ve jumped into her then and now. You wouldn’t believe how worse off she is. Is she some sort of tool to you? That you’ll just use until she breaks? She tries to come across like she’s invincible. She’s not, you know.”

“I do not think she is a tool.” You had defended yourself, “She is here because she wants to be. She made one request of me. After all that she’s been through, could I deny that one request?”

”She wants a lot more than that. She just knows you won’t give her those things.”

This criticism was unfair. It wasn’t a case of won’t, it was a case of couldn’t…right? Though sometimes, when your mind wandered, you found yourself doubting even that. For now, though, you had deemed that you were doing…your best. Though the more you thought about how Emma had stated the change in how Hilda looked, merely on the outside, you found your mind swirling into emptiness.

Maybe Hilda was happy about the state of affairs, but you couldn’t say you were. She was pregnant now, even. Even if she objected, could you keep her around in good conscience? Or was it the least that you owed her?

At the very least, you knew where you could find Hilda. When she went out, ostensibly to help in efforts to find and track insurgent movements (as well as stalking Twaryian incursions, when it turned out she had a knack for finding those in the night), the two of you had made sure to arrange a series of points where she would go if she needed to be found. Thankfully, she was at the point closest to camp; conveniently the first place you went to check.

She was laid down against a tree, completely wrapped up in her overcoat, though you could see her face peeking out. When she thought nobody could see, you knew, she liked to take her scarf off her face. You wondered if it was because it was uncomfortable. Her face was still flushed with fever, and her breathing was uneven, but she was fast asleep; a sort of unusual calm was on Hilda’s face.

Hilda shouldn’t have gone out while sick. You had told her against doing such yourself…but Hilda was stubborn. Maybe you hadn’t been forceful enough with saying so, yet here she was.

“Hilda?” you called out to her quietly, but she did not stir.

>Wake her up; you could discuss a few things before you went out to make a mess of things. [What about?]
>Pick her up and carry her to camp. She wouldn’t get better if she slept outside in the rain, that was for damn sure, but you shouldn’t wake her, either.
>Other?
Also, if you wake her-
>Tell her what you’re about to go and do, or keep her in the dark about you wandering over towards Twaryian territory?

>>3419271
>For now, though, you had deemed that you were doing…your best

Don't delude yourself Ritcher

>>3419275
>Other?
>Pick her up and carry her to camp to get out of the rain and then wake her there.
>>Talk about?
Her condition and that she should be taken off an active role in this force. She'll protest, but be firm. Bring up the idea of having her return to Maddy's for the time being. Maybe apologize

>>Tell her what you’re about to go and do
But be firm in that she is *not* going due to her condition. We'll post a damn guard at the door to make sure she stays put and doesn't follow so she can get some rest.

>>3419349
Supporting. Please give Hilda some rest.

>>3419275
I'll jump on this >>3419349 as well
Apologise, then stick her on the next outgoing train to the Blumlands and have her guard the manor in case any unexpected bears show up

>>3419349
>>3419356
>>3419405
So before I decide anything, what do you want Richter to apologize for?
Or is that "yes"

>>3419349
Works for me. She's going to resist or want to track us but we can even get Emma to tattle on her for us if she tries.

>>3419453
For me it's 'yes'. Richter and her are a couple of dumbasses but Richter and by extension us had more than a few chances to not let things get this bad, but we didn't.

>>3419453
yes

>>3419453
Putting her through all this in the first place.

>>3419349
Yeah sending her away sounds good. Maybe admit her to a hospital first to ensure she'll be fine to make the journey? Also I'd assume Emma would go with her.