Your fiancée after a fashion, Yena of Monte Nocca (Mountainfolk didn’t do surnames like most people) had ever kept you supplied with correspondence, something from her arriving at least twice a week, often four times, each letter including a sachet of dried flowers, or pressed flowers in paper, an explanation of them provided in each letter. Cigarettes- though you were not to smoke them- she wanted to kiss you and did not want the smell of smoke on you, after all. Sugar candies, though she remarked each time that they were too expensive to give you all the time. Two letters had dried white mountain flowers- and the advice to perform what was called the Emck…mountain superstition. Or was it something more?

>You would take every bit of luck you could get. Your platoon leader was female- and might be convinced to perform the modest ritual in spite of it being not particularly tasteful to somebody so fervent a believer in Holy Judgment…
>Perhaps there was some power in appealing to a dead goddess of humanity- but you didn’t want to do Emck with anybody but Yena. She was the only one who could be called a proper companion for such…Yjens wouldn’t think much of you if you did it with a different woman, surely.
>Mosshead hogwash. Yena meant the best, but she wasn’t here- and you had little reason to burn flowers in your hand without her near and watching.
>Other?

Each letter, of course, was concluded with a declaration of love- and an earnest appeal for you to be safe in body and soul. She asked questions, too- about how you felt, about the front, about the war…anything concerning the military was of course unable to be answered, but small talk was enough not to censor, you hoped. She cryptically hinted at a present for your birthday- coming up next month. She was already rather generous with the gifts as it stood…

Though you had little to say about your family. After all, you had not sent them anything since your university days. They likely didn’t even know you were in the army. They might not have assumed you were alive.

Cesare for his part didn’t seem too happy- though he never complained about you or Leo. The conditions on the northern front, far from you, were apparently wretched- even for a non-combat serviceman like your witty friend was. The work of censors had regrettably been done- apparently even soldiers were not allowed to exchange minor details about the front, but the tone and implication of some things made the poor situation clear enough. Especially when more survivors of the Young Futurists Club- as well as new friends made up there he spoke well of- had been called away from headquarters paperwork and deployed to the front. Surely against the wishes of old Colonello Di Zucchampo.

One morning, to the next night. Until today- the fifteenth of September. This chilly morning, you were woken with a start by somebody.

“Luigi,” you groaned and swatted, “Knock it off, it isn’t time yet-“ your hand struck a noticeably smaller shoulder than Luigi’s, and you squinted through drowsy eyes at Chiara- she only seemed partly dressed, a loose, thin white blouse being buttoned over with quick fingers by a uniform.

“I hope I am not even remotely able to be mistaken for your oafish crewman…” Chiara said with a tight-lipped expression of hurt. “Get up, Sottotenente. The coffee will be cold this morning, something dire is happening. The company needs to be up.”

“Dire?” You asked, as you got up without thinking and reached for your uniform- it must have been important enough that Chiara hadn’t even gotten dressed before coming over. “I’ll be right there.” Your eyes were still welded shut, and your words were muttered, but the body knew better than the mind what to do when suggested that time was of the essence- at least there was time for coffee at all.

There wasn’t time for others, it sounded like, as tank engines were cranked and started- and you spied the other companies already starting to move whilst your company was mostly asleep. A peek at your watch, then the horizon- it was barely six hours thirty, and the first light was still young. If the other companies were moving and you yet weren’t…
Luigi was visited and given the usual wakeup call. Which, in cases like this, was the same procedure as giving commands in the tank- this command being to rise. Di Scurostrada was likely being more gentle with the other platoon officers, and some were groggily exiting their dug-in tents when you were attending the overnight brewed pot.
“So,” you said to Chiara when she returned with a steel cup looking particularly grumpy- this serving of coffee wouldn’t help that considering her usual preference for it. “Since the other companies are already leaving, I assume this wasn’t planned.”

“No,” Chiara said, “and since the our new company commander has not yet arrived, I was instructed to hold the company in reserve.”

“For what?” You paused. “Is the situation unknown?”

“No.” Chiara said again flatly, “There is an Imperial assault underway on our lines to the north. Armored vehicles in unknown quantity were reported.”

“With no artillery barrage beforehand.”

“Yes.” Chiara wrinkled her nose as she tried to gulp down black coffee- some preferred some milk in it to make it the color of your lieutenant’s skin, she seemed to prefer enough to make it the hue of Yena’s- but you all were now being made to drink something that was the color of something you’d only heard theoretical mention of in textbooks of the southlands to the far, far east. “The first company is deploying to meet them. Another assault is taking place to the west, but it is unknown what the composition of that is. Suffice it to say, Sottotenente, I believe that is a feint, and that the Kaiser’s forces seek to reenact our own first battle.”

You drank down your helping of coffee in one go. “Sounds like a bit of a stretch. Did you tell Signore Di Marea that?”

“He disagreed. But the Reich knows that we are here, in roughly the same number as before. Our unit is not so invisible as we would like in spite of our efforts, I believe. Unfortunately, our own reconnaissance and intelligence failed to inform of any enemy counterpart to us arriving, let alone preparing to attack. So I believe their attack is either the same size as- or greater- than our unit, and split as we are, we are asking to be defeated in detail. I do not know the vulnerabilities of Imperial armored vehicles, but the most effective weapon against them are mines and artillery fire, so our vehicles may at least delay or disable them in time for such to be called…so long as any opposition is not overwhelmed and dealt with in the same way.”

A look towards the tanks being started up. “You do not intend to be held in reserve.”

“I seek your counsel and aid in this decision,” Chiara dispensed with subtlety, a sharpness glinting in her blue eyes, “I confess that I want this. The unexpected disaster to pull my comrades from. The Saints advise against wishing misfortune so that you may dispel it, but I believe that the Imperials must have a plan of this sort- and that keeping the company in reserve is an unwise appeal to an officer we have not even been informed anything but the rank of, and who will not arrive until this afternoon at the earliest- if his line of arrival is not compromised.”

Chiara was in nominal command of the company, still- but she did rely on your personal magnetism to hold sway over the other officers. She made no secret that she was a woman any longer- but most were loathe to be subordinate to one if the appointment to command was not official. On one hand, crossing command if this turned out to be less than assumed would make the both of you and the whole company look badly- but if it was what Chiara described and more, remaining in reserve might have worse consequences. It was all a matter of whether the situation was what would be better for all- or if it was what was wanted.

>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.
>It was better to be in reserve and ready to react, with the lack of information. Advise against moving- while remaining ready.
>Other?

Previous Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5687489/

>>5771754
>You would take every bit of luck you could get. Your platoon leader was female- and might be convinced to perform the modest ritual in spite of it being not particularly tasteful to somebody so fervent a believer in Holy Judgment…
>>5771761
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.

We’re so back

>>5771754
>Perhaps there was some power in appealing to a dead goddess of humanity- but you didn’t want to do Emck with anybody but Yena. She was the only one who could be called a proper companion for such…Yjens wouldn’t think much of you if you did it with a different woman, surely.
Accept no substitute for our mosshead wife
>>5771761
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.
Fuck it, we ball.

Good to be back in pastaland

>>5771754
>You would take every bit of luck you could get. Your platoon leader was female- and might be convinced to perform the modest ritual in spite of it being not particularly tasteful to somebody so fervent a believer in Holy Judgment…

>>5771761
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.

>>5771754
>Perhaps there was some power in appealing to a dead goddess of humanity- but you didn’t want to do Emck with anybody but Yena. She was the only one who could be called a proper companion for such…Yjens wouldn’t think much of you if you did it with a different woman, surely.

>>5771761
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.

>>5771761
>Perhaps there was some power in appealing to a dead goddess of humanity- but you didn’t want to do Emck with anybody but Yena. She was the only one who could be called a proper companion for such…Yjens wouldn’t think much of you if you did it with a different woman, surely.
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.

>>5771762
>>5771773
Burn flowers with the dusky girl.

>>5771770
>>5771784
>>5771860
Moss or Break

All in on going out though.
Calling it in an hour.

>>5771864
Feel like Yena loves Chiara as well and that she could use the ritual as well

>>5771864
Alright, no change.
Writing!

>>5771761
>You would take every bit of luck you could get. Your platoon leader was female- and might be convinced to perform the modest ritual in spite of it being not particularly tasteful to somebody so fervent a believer in Holy Judgment…
>Better to be wrong and reprimanded then right wrong and routed. Reserve was no place for the company right now.

>>5771878
>Yena loves Chiara
What? Since when?
Besides having Chiara do the ritual with us implies us loving her than anything else.

>>5771922
Hey tanq, how do mossheads trace descent? If Yena and Bonetto had kids would they be considered mountainfolk/non-mountainfolk/just mixed?

“There’s no need to wait for him,” you said to Chiara- despite the earliness of the morning, the bitterness of the coffee, and how bad things might be if her theory was the truth, her eyes widened and her lips relaxed, like she had expected the opposite response. “Better to risk a reprimand than to risk the unit. There’s no time to waste, and I’ll make sure everybody knows it.”

“…Thank you, Sottotenente,” Chiara said, taking a long breath. “I will see to planning what we can in the time we have. The briefing will have to be a short one.”

There was no trouble in swaying the other officers- the urgency of the situation preceded any misgivings about who was in command. There was a bit of grumbling from third and fourth platoon on principle, but ultimately, they did want to go into action, and the people most against the choice of leadership were not in a place to claim the role for themselves. By the time the tanks were starting, you didn’t see any of the rest of the battalion any longer, but better late going than never, as you told others while they finished eating what hard bread and coffee they could get.

“Third Company,” Chiara addressed the unit- it had once been First Company, but Di Marea had shuffled around the composition as replacements were made in some places and, of course, the lack of an official commander precluded the first most unit from being a priority operator, as was standard in the Vitelian Royal Army. “Our other two companies and our battalion command have deployed- we are intended to be in reserve, but as my sottotenente has told you, I believe this to be lacking in perspective. So,” Chiara pointed to the map placed on a barrel in the center of you all, a conglomerate of old cartography, aerial photos and adjustments made by ground recon, drawn over grid lined paper that was badly worn by rain leaking onto a corner last week.

“The most likely path First Company took to intercept the enemy armored attack should be this road. That is the only demined path for certain, and the fastest route. It will be the one we will have to take too, if we are to arrive at any speed. Once we get to this fork, however,” she traced a finger off a branch in the path, “this way isn’t cleared for our vehicles, but we have defensive positions guarding the flank of the main front line fortifications at this old lodge.” The lodge had been reduced at this point to a pile of splinters around the skeleton of its foundations, but it was still a notable landmark in a landscape that was naught but ruin anyways. “From there, if our forces are in an engagement, we will be in a good place to support them, whether with fires of our own or guarding their retreat path. If the enemy attacks us here, we will have support from our own people. Our path of withdrawal is, by necessity, the same as our entry. Are there questions or concerns?”

“Aye,” Second Platoon’s leader said, “If we’re fighting other tanks, how do we hurt them? Can the cannons on the C2s damage them?”

“That cannon was able to cause damage to its own armor and that of the C1 in experiments,” Chiara answered coolly, “But if it cannot, then aim for vision slits, the treads or wheels, air intakes- whatever target presents itself. Small arms fire can similarly cause disruption, even if it does not find a place to slip through. As long as we can hold them in place, in any case, artillery can make ready to fire upon them. Then they will have to retreat or succumb. The enemy surely knows they can do the same to us. They and the Emreans have had armored attack units for longer than us.”

Fourth Platoon’s commander spoke next. “If Imperial Infantry defeat our own, will we retreat?”

Chiara shook her head. “Not if we are to support First Company and our commander.”

“And if they fall and expose our flank?”

“Then we will have little choice, although at that point,” Chiara cleared her throat uncertainly, “Our defenses may as well have collapsed, and finding a place to run to will be as difficult as holding in place. If we do not abandon our equipment, that is.”

Most everybody was unwilling to take that step. The C1s and C2s, especially the former, were temperamental machines that were enraging as much as they were endearing, but they were your tanks. Yours.

Other minutiae were hurried through- but you and Chiara remained behind a moment as she put away the map.

“Is there something wrong, Sottotenente?” She asked, “You seem ill at ease.”

“It is before a battle.”

“Not in that way.”

“I’m thinking about Yena,” you came clean, “She has been sending me flowers for Emck, and now that battle has come, I wonder if may have missed out on some good luck…” The Emck was meant to draw the favor of Yjens, and you certainly weren’t feeling particularly blessed even now. Yet, you never had been bothered enough to make it an issue to the other woman before you. It felt wrong, somehow, to do that ritual with anybody but Yena. It was something special for her, at least, to you, even if it might not have been to the dead guardian of humanity.

“The Judge needs no sacrifice of flowers to hear your prayers,” Chiara said, putting her map in her pocket, “There is no time to amend any spiritual concerns now. It is time for steel, not incense.”

Be that as it may, if you had done the Emck with Di Scurostrada, it would have granted you both good fortune. Wouldn’t Yena have liked that best..?

That sole distraction shaken from the head, everybody had run to the now-fully started tanks, roused your drivers, and began to roll into formations- you formed the point of your platoon’s arrow formation while Chiara’s tank took the point of the column- the officer herself standing forward and ahead. In these lands, with how much battle had ruined the land, it took dismounted inspection to lead a certain way if you strayed from the roads. Flag signals were raised, exchanged, confirmed- and off you went.

Even if hurrying as fast as you could was at a mere jogging pace.

-----

The sound of battle sounded up into the sky as you rolled on, about halfway to your destination- both from the north you were heading towards, as well as the east. No part of the battalion was seeing no action today- except perhaps the maintenance and supply teams, but if you were unfortunate, they would have the most important role of all.

Third, formerly first Company, was somewhat different than when you had first come to the Auratus with them. The numbers were replenished, but the compositions had some change by necessity. First and second platoons were wholly made up of C2 types, with an equal distribution of machine gun and cannon armed ones. Third Platoon had two C1 types more and two less C2 cannon tanks, while fourth platoon had two C2 cannons and four C1s. The other companies had more C1 types by proportion, most of their platoons looking like your third or fourth, but even though your company’s important had been downgraded, that had thankfully not been accompanied by any appropriation of your gear.

You watched the foggy, smoke choked horizon, not expecting to see anything as the company filed down the side path, nearly to the flank trenches- but Chiara sounded a cry of alarm, and you saw her rush back to the lead tank. Another look- from down the road, you noticed a pack of shapes.

Three groups of four, against your twenty-four strong company. It was hard to tell what shape they were- though they couldn’t have been friendly. They were heading down from where you were going. Had your people been overwhelmed already? No, it didn’t seem that way. They might have just run over and past the meager trenchworks, running straight for whatever would resist them first.

They happened to run headlong into you- and perhaps, this would be a first-time experience for the both. Chiara’s commands stuck up from the turret, flags indicating formation and procedure- and you relayed them.

>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.
>You could only engage them from where you where, from your present positions. Straying off the road meant possibly striking mines unaccounted for- you had to try and drive them off as you were now.
>Spread out- you would have no advantage of numbers clumped into a column, and firing sooner rather than later was the wise maneuver, even if visibility was poor enough that you couldn’t see much in the way of weak spots…
>Other?
Also- Roll 2 sets of 1d100. The other companies fighting. Higher is better, DC is unknown.

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>5772035
>Spread out- you would have no advantage of numbers clumped into a column, and firing sooner rather than later was the wise manoeuvre, even if visibility was poor enough that you couldn’t see much in the way of weak spots…

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5772035
it is so joever

>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.

>>5772023
>how do mossheads trace descent? If Yena and Bonetto had kids would they be considered mountainfolk/non-mountainfolk/just mixed?
They would be considered Nief'yem- the same as their mother. This identifier passes down matrilineally, so while the son and daughter of a mountainfolk women are both considered the same as their mother, only the daughter's children would be able to inherit her own mountain blood, should the union be with one not of recognized Nief'yem ancestry, and her children do not follow the same rules.
In short, the children are "full" Nief'yem, while grandchildren down the female line of descent born of non-mountain heritage are "half" Nief-yem (even if they're more like a quarter genetically), and do not pass down their mountainfolk-ness unless they procreate with actual mountainfolk.

>>5772035
>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.

>>5772035
>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.

>>5772035
>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>5772035
>Spread out- you would have no advantage of numbers clumped into a column, and firing sooner rather than later was the wise maneuver, even if visibility was poor enough that you couldn’t see much in the way of weak spots…

>>5772043
>>5772151
Spread like marmalade.

>>5772045
>>5772052
>>5772059
>>5772106
Knives out, bum rush.

I'll call the vote later tonight, no certain timeframe, two to three hours.

>>5772035
>Spread out- you would have no advantage of numbers clumped into a column, and firing sooner rather than later was the wise maneuver, even if visibility was poor enough that you couldn’t see much in the way of weak spots…

>>5772035
>The Company advanced to engage them at close range, rushing down the road- with numbers on your side, you could afford unsubtle brute tactics.

>>5772211
>>5772217
One more each.
Still going in fast and hard. Well, so much as an early internal combustion engine and tread suspension can.

Writing.

A green flag pumped up and down three times, then a red flag waved- close quarters assault. The forward tank’s engine gurgled and roared with a blast of black smoke out the exhaust, and you prompted your driver with your special agreement of a swift boot right between the shoulders followed by another- full speed ahead, while conveying the signal further down the line.

Unlike yourselves, the enemy fading into clearer view seemed hesitant and uncertain what to do- your presence had clearly been unanticipated, and whoever their leaders were, they weren’t waving any communications flags. Attempting to shoot at them was pointless- the tank lurched in all and spun you about like you were in a butter churner. A spray of bullets cracked past your tank- another barrage ricocheted off the second tank in the formation. It did not dissuade you, of course, and the enemy began to spread out further in anticipation as you closed in and saw the sort of contraptions the Reich had sent against you.

They were squat and boxy, almost like your own C-1s, though their treads were much better made for the terrain, as one ascended high enough to see that the space between the bottom of the hull and the ground was much healthier than the C-1’s. Somewhat wider, they were still low slung enough in build that the detritus of battle and variations in terrain hid them quite well. The way some of them poked up or laid down, they might be able to hide in the same sort of defilade that would conceal a man. The port to the left of their centers must have been for the previously experienced machine guns- you might just have outgunned them.

That thought was quashed when a flash and a puff of smoke came from one of them, and what was clearly a small shell thudded off the side of Di Scurostrada’s tank turret, whistling as it soared over the rest of the company. How big was that cannon? As large as the C2’s? Or a smaller variant, that your armor resisted?

Shooting began to come from your platoon- still moving as you were, none of it could be accurate, but you noticed that the numbers and your aggression had given the enemy pause in engaging you- they were starting to go in reverse, back the way they came- though their weapons still fired.

Rolled 40, 96, 21 = 157 (3d100)

Time to put them to flight, if they were uncertain. They were close enough to see some detail, now- Di Scurostrada must have agreed, as her tank rose the flag that announced a stop. You followed suite- and hit Luigi with the side of your food to his shoulder, once. Your initial seven against twelve would mean you would not have the advantage at first- but once the formation had the moments to spread out, your weight of fire would carry the day even if you had not driven them forth yet.

A look down the gun scope at the first Imperial enemy of the day- time to find out just what kind of damage your C2’s 4.6-centimeter cannon could do- and what their type might do to you. A deadly lesson for everybody, about to commence.

>Roll 4 sets of d100. First for your initial fire exchanges, then for the rest for the assault proper. The second part will be best of three.
>The above three rolls are best of two for the enemy, then their sole latter combat roll. Higher is better for all.

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>5772363
Are we Kenough lads?

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>5772363

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>5772363

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>5772363

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>5772363

File: IMG_4567.jpg (21 KB, 529x580)

21 KB JPG

>>5772368

That’s my oomfie.

>>5772368
>>5772372
The high roll not spent on something like, I don't know, dancing, or fertility, or whatever.
And here I thought that 96 was bad news. Writing.

The gun, you thought, No gun of the size that would fit on those tanks would resist a direct shell hit, no matter the armor. The 4.6 barked, and you watched the shell’s impact on the gun mantlet, a puff of flame and smoke- the vehicle itself didn’t seem particularly damaged, but more importantly, it was not shooting after you hit it.

You placed your attention back on the gun, and opened the breech to yank the shell out- when your tank was also hit by something- on the side, though the enemy had no angle to your side. An ambush? No- a look around the cupola confirmed that. Your tank sagged to one side. Later. You tried to find your next target- and saw one getting pummeled by machine gun fire, its muddy colored paint and dirt making it seem little more than a rubble pile in the fog for anybody not sharp eyed- the impact of metal was unmistakable. You aimed for where you could- the upper hull, as the tank tried to take up a covered position. A blast against the armor- you squinted, and saw clear damage, though nothing catastrophic. It wasn’t certain whether it was just a dent or if the armor had bent inwards, spraying spall.

The trade in fire continued- the heat in the tank built, your protective goggles fogged up- and your mouth was dry, but you fought against both your own cannon breach and against the flashes of weapons fire that became the most visible contrast on a battlefield now mixing fog and gunsmoke.

However, within a few minutes, you noticed that the fire from ahead was slackening off- and the attacks from your flanks had increased greatly. Soon, the fog and smoke concealed all- as no fire was returned, and without explosions or cracks of bullets, you heard nothing but the grinding and hissing of the interior of your C2/1909.

A toe to the back of your crewman- slow advance. A sudden grinding sound and the tank leaned to the side, pivoting.

So that was what the damage had been. You weren’t sure how many times you were actually hit- just that you had no blood on you at the end of it all. A touch of both feet to either shoulder- engine off.

“Tread’s been wrecked, schoolboy,” Luigi told you unnecessarily, “Complete disconnect from the feel of it. We’re not going anywhere.”

“We’ll have to try and fix it,” you said, “Stay in here. I’m getting out, everybody else is forming a perimeter.”

When you disembarked, you saw that Chiara had done the same- you saw blood running down the side of her face. Both of you stood behind her tank as you met again, as the Imperials could not be trusted to simply leave a fight when it was over- not in this war.

“Just shrapnel,” she said dismissively as you took off your fogged goggles to look closer. A few deep gouges on the side of her forehead poured blood, but not an amount unexpected or severe beyond looking ugly. “Are you hurt?”

“Not me. My tank is,” you said, pointing to the tread- it was broken from the front, and moreover, it seemed that a road wheel had been either loosened or bent, hence the sag. “The mobility is shot. No other damage that I could see.” You looked ahead beyond the lead C2. “Do you think they’ve left?”

“They were already running when the company finished adjusting formation,” she said with a hint of pride, “They’ll only strike again at us, as they are, if they are wishing to meet the Judge and try to debate whether they have committed righteous sacrifice or wasteful suicide by intent.” She pointed back to the company, “Take account of them, your platoon first. Then I will take them and investigate forward. We have little time, if they’ve come this far and this brazenly.”

Apparently, she already considered you more than sottotenente. Faith in you, or certainty in her own advancement? Either way.

First platoon had taken the brunt of punishment, as it had the challenge of fighting outnumbered, but you knew that you gave out as good as you took. Besides your immobilized tank, another cannon C2 had been struck in the turret and was damaged there- its commander was seriously wounded in the torso from resulting shrapnel, the driver also wounded by a machine gun bullet through his vision port. A machine gun C2 had been battered up, both of its treads shredded and its driver also badly wounded by a close shell hit on his own vision port. A final casualty was another machine gun C2, its primary weapon torn apart by enemy fire and its hull riddled with machine gun dents. Its commander had made the mistake of peeping too much and getting unlucky- a lucky bullet had pierced the vision glass on his cupola and went through his goggles into his right eye- though it had slowed enough by then not to kill him. Poor fortune- the strengthened glass of the vision ports was meant to resist rifle fire, and the damage to some tanks indicated that the enemy machine guns chewed up vulnerable parts of your tanks with ferocity not normal for typical small arms.

For your efforts and stubbornness, however, no other platoon had taken any losses, besides a singular tank that was pulled free from a muddy wallow, hopefully not eating up the rest of your luck.

Chiara and the rest of first platoon returned with findings. There had been no enemies to capture- though they had been forced to abandon eight of their tanks. A clear victory for your company. Moreover, these types were of two variants. One, armed with but a single machine gun, the other, with a 3.7-centimter light cannon, of the same model usually used for infantry support, from a brief inspection. These tanks appeared to be designed with mobility in mind above all else, as their armament was not particularly impressive at first glance.

Plenty damaging to your own vehicles with enough precision and persistence though, you thought. The Grossreich and Emre had been fighting one another with tanks before you had known they existed, and they had come to this fight prepared for you. Had they come equipped with the weapons and knowledge to defeat you?
All the more important to reach First Company.

As the quick analysis wrapped up, a voice called out- after a moment of alarm, it was realized that it was the call of Vitelian infantry, anticipating a response. The correct one was given, and a team of bloodied infantrymen with dinged helmets and tired eyes, two without their weapons, approached your tanks. They came with dire news. Their defenses had fended off an Imperial probing attack, but only barely. The infantry in said defenses witnessed the main defensive front and the Special Weapons Battalion First Company getting utterly crushed by a combined Imperial assault. They had only come here because they were scouting out a retreat path for their fellows to follow. They said fighting was still going on- but that the Imperial hammer blow had certainly shattered the Vitelian defenders, as well as their armored support.

“What kind of tanks did they have?” Chiara demanded, voice shaking, tone pointed. “Ones like these? Any others?”

“Y-yes,” the infantryman said, eyes both wide awake yet exhausted and hollow, “Bigger ones too. Big and long like ships, with a big gun in the front. Maybe twice as big as those one’s cannons. Machine guns on them too. A lot of them and the other ones. Maybe twice as many.”

A swallowed curse from Chiara- you stepped up beside her. She was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Tenente Di Scurostrada,” you said to her, and her eyes flicked to you- she stopped trying to shear off her lower lip to spit it into the mud. “Artillery has surely been called. If First Company is still fighting, they may have a reprieve soon, should they endure.”

“If they have been routed and scattered, then the shells will fall on nothing but the already vanquished,” Di Scurostrada said, “We cannot turn tail when the reason we have come out here is…” She paused, and raised her foot and kicked a pile of dirt savagely. “Damn my gentler instinct, I cannot turn and ask you what to do whenever I am uncertain, Bonaventura. I am taking the company forward."

Her blue eyes glared, flinty and resolute even though her voice was uneven. "However…there is much else to do. I want to ask you to take care of things for me.The wounded, evacuating the infantrymen these people came from, destroying any immobilized vehicles in case they might be recovered by the enemy and not us. Most importantly, return to our base camp, have the wounded seen to, and most of all, get word to 2nd Company of what has happened. Send the pigeons, try to raise the wire- whatever it takes to spread the word around. If they can turn about and join the battle here, I believe we may have a hope of turning the enemy back. Can I ask that you do this for me?”

You were taken aback. “Chiara- Signore Di Scurostrada, you could be facing near twice your number at least, probably more. I ask that you reconsider the risks.”

“I know the risks,” Chiara said, her teeth gritting again, “I am not-!...” She took a breath. “I promise that I am not planning to rush headlong into danger for the sake of it. I have learned. We will have to double back and follow the main road again to directly support what may be left of First Company, or at least deny the main line of communication to the enemy. I believe that means we will be able to fight a successful delaying action…even though it will be very risky. I just…I need you to handle everything else for me, Bonaventura. I feel that I can trust you to do this, and,” she looked away, “I do not want to hurl you into this danger when Yena so looks forward to meeting with you again.”

“Chiara…”

“I have spent too long talking,” the short lady officer cut you off with a swiping motion of the hand, “Can you do what I have asked?”

“…If I cannot?” you asked. It was not a contemplation of contempt, but a possibility of failure. That of spreading yourselves too thin, and achieving naught when you might otherwise have triumphed in a smaller way such as surviving.

“…Please,” Chiara said, her voice flat and tired, “Please…just do it.”

>Was there any other answer when a lady pleaded so? You accept this duty.
>No. If refusing means she won’t go through with something still reckless for all claims of measurement, you won’t. You’ve all done more than you were asked to as it stood.
>Other?
Also, whether you vote to accept or deny-
>Prioritize what to handle with the most priority. There might not be time to do everything before the Reich comes around once more- and taking too long might spoil chances for some things to result in their best outcome.

>>5772404
>Was there any other answer when a lady pleaded so? You accept this duty.

>Prioritize what to handle with the most priority. There might not be time to do everything before the Reich comes around once more- and taking too long might spoil chances for some things to result in their best outcome.

Getting into contact with 2nd Company is the overriding priority, otherwise the rest of the Battalion might be toast

Then evacuating the wounded. Vehicles can be lowest in priority, if we can hold the field by the end of this they wont be getting recovered by the Reich.

>>5772410
+1

>>5772404
>>5772410
Support

>>5772404

>>Was there any other answer when a lady pleaded so? You accept this duty.

>Prioritize what to handle with the most priority. There might not be time to do everything before the Reich comes around once more- and taking too long might spoil chances for some things to result in their best outcome.

>>5772410
Support

>>5772410
>>5772422
>>5772425
>>5772472
>>5772483
Rather unified plan of action.
I think.
Calling it in...two hours, we'll say.

Alright, no changes.
Writing.

Your hand went to your brow in a stiff salute. “I accept this mission. You have my word I will take care of all this.”

Chiara let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Bonaventura.”

“I’m going to make my first priority getting 2nd Company over here,” you said, “Don’t be too bold.”

Chiara returned your salute, and you went at ease, as she went back to the other tanks, briefed the other officers, and was away as you also told what was now your platoon what would be happening. The tanks that could still move would carry the wounded- and escort any who could move on their own legs. As for you and your driver, you had to make the utmost haste, though that was impossible with your own vehicle now. The C2 with the disabled turret was borrowed, and the one command you gave Luigi before the engines deafened you both once more was one impossible for a driver as skilled as him to misinterpret.

“Back to base, then to the eastern frontline. Full ahead, don’t stop for anything.”

No bickering, no backtalk, no jokes. The driver was in as little mood for it as you were. You went out, shut the hatches, and straddled the turret atop the tank- you weren’t planning to stop when you went through the base. Once again, you were thrashed about as any attempt at a smooth ride was disregarded in favor of speed, and you could do little but hang on for dear life. You hoped that you wouldn’t be surprised by a breakdown or pits opening up, or anything that would steal even precious seconds away. It was no longer any question of preserving your own life. No excuses to have restraint.

Much faster than you had left, you arrived back at your base camp. Groggy mechanics and supply troops gathered to see your return- their looks clearly asking why you were by yourself.

“Emergency!” You hollered, “Send division headquarters a notice of emergency for our sector, and be ready for anything! Wounded are on their way!”

It was the hardest you’d shouted in your life, and there was no time to explain. Anybody following you could add what details they wished. The only other person you intended to talk to now would be whoever could convey the word to 2nd Company, if not them themselves immediately or after.

You’d been to that part of the line before- it had been the equivalent of morning errands, albeit with armored vehicles. So when your C2 lurched and the engine coughed and choked, you swore, swore again loudly and stomped on the roof, but the tank did not quicken in pace again- it slowed, crawled, and eventually was barely moving. Yjens the Needy showing her spite! You thought to yourself as you launched yourself off the tank and began to sprint down the cleared path. It was still another kilometer or so away. You could reach it quickly still.

You tripped over junk, scraped yourself on broken steel and stone, stumbled into potholes and into mud, but you took no moments to catch your breath until finally, you saw the shape of a C1 tank, then its mates.

“It’s Sottotenente Bonaventura,” one of the dismounted officers called the attention of the others as you tumbled over a hill and felt the cold autumn mist suddenly scorch your lungs.

“The hell are you doing here?” Another asked as they walked over to help you up, “All by yourself, are you mad? There are Reich sharpshooters about.”

“Captain Sudmare,” you said hoarsely, “Get me to Captain Sudmare, our northern flank is in terrible danger. First company is defeated, Third company is trying to hold out. We need to hurry…”

It paid off to be so respected in the unit- you were wordlessly pulled to your feet and guided, half carried to the Second Company commander’s C2 tank. The Sea Vitelian stared at you with wide, perplexed eyes through tinted spectacles, and you repeated the news.

“So this was a feint after all,” Sudmare said with a scowl, “Damn it all, we should have known that the Reich was fended off too easily. I considered that this might have been a probe and a prelude to an attack, but if there are that many of them to the north…” He checked his watch. “When did you leave to tell me this?” You relayed the time. “Damn.” He flipped his watch closed again. “I’ll take care of this from here. Did you come all the way here by yourself?”

“My tank broke down on the road between here and the base camp,” you said, “I had to leave my driver behind with it.”

“We can pick him up on the way. Come on,” he beckoned to you, “Get up and ride. We’ll take you back to base too. Get what rest you can up there.”

An impossible task as it turned out- the only reprieve from hanging on while being whipped about like a storm once again, was when Luigi was retrieved and he had to share in your experience. The two of you wove a song of expletives before you were dropped off again. By then, some of the wounded had returned- and they told you things were proceeding apace in your absence.

None knew anything of the battle- besides that they knew it was ongoing. The far-off boom of artillery made its presence known- but you couldn’t tell if it was friendly, enemy, or both. Your knees went weak, and you collapsed onto a bench- and improvised pair of crates and a plant nailed together and set under a camouflage net. You had to keep going, you told yourself, but your body demanded just a moment. A moment barely tolerated when you knew you could do nothing right now to help the battle itself.

>Roll 5 sets of 1d100. First for the first phase, the next two for the main fighting, the last two for concluding action. Higher is better.
>The 6 enemy rolls will follow.

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>5772914
We're just Ken and that's enough

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>5772914

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>5772914
CAN YOU FEEL THE KENERGY!?

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>5772914
pastabros... not like this

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>5772914

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>5772914

>>5772949
AYO

>>5772949
we're so fucking back

>>5772949
nice

Rolled 8, 15, 64, 9, 6, 88 = 190 (6d100)

>>5772916
>>5772922
>>5772933
>>5772949
>>5772951
What a spread.
Let's see what they've got.

File: image_2023-09-24_174047634.png (1.3 MB, 1200x1200)

1.3 MB PNG

>>5772991
Pasta bros we're Kenough for this

>>5772991
NOTHING
THEY'VE GOT NOTHING!!!!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOTHING!!!!!!!!!

>>5772991
Imperials BTFO'd. How will they ever recover from this?

>>5772991
>Jobbing evil empire
C'mon tanq, I know you can do better than this

Eventually you rose again. There were still others to mind after, to take to safety. You wouldn’t be riding to battle, but you wouldn’t just be waiting. A reassuring perspective. Though going back out would put you back within distance of seeing, hearing the battle going on north. Close enough that pretty hopes would not shield you from a terrible truth.

Forced to walk, you and some of the people from the camp, your driver, and any unwounded volunteers went back out, skulking in defilades and holes. Marching down the road was unwise in an attack like this. You had encountered Imperial armor rolling up on you and surprised each other once already. Infiltrators and stormtroopers would not be so blind, and they were certain to be near any Reich attack.

The sounds of fighting were rather scattered when you began to get closer- and then they exploded furiously. 2nd Company would have gotten here before you- perhaps some groups had finally found one another. You might have gotten a view of it from the flanking trenches near the ruins of the old lodge, but another round of artillery began to rain down when you drew close. Everybody huddled in the shallow positions. Far from sophisticated Grossreich engineering, they were little more than long holes with the barest suggestion of siding. A shell striking too close could fill them in, and you had heard, drown a man in mud.

Weathering out the shelling, it shook the earth even though you could not have ben the target. Hands over your ears and eyes towards the ground, the smell of blood and gunpowder was oddly dull. The stench of death was ever-present on frontline trenches. Could you be immunized to it when you had spent so little time as a rifleman before now?

After the barrage slackened, the remaining infantrymen were in no mood to indulge any reconnaissance. They wanted to go back- and escort them back you did, noting dimly that the sounds of machine gun, rifles, pistol and grenade popping, and cannon had just as soon started up again as the artillery ceased.

The third time you went back, though, things had gone quiet again, only the odd crack reminding those foolish enough to assume peace had descended that there were still plenty of enemies on the watch for prey that had let their guard down. Curiosity struck you- since Reich tanks and stormtroopers weren’t trampling you right now, that must have meant that your comrades had driven off the attack, but you wanted to see with your own eyes- perhaps destroying the tanks would not be necessary after all.

“Wait here,” you told Luigi and the others as you gathered about your long-still tanks. “I’ll be right back.”

Not so hasty. You noticed a landmine that had been tossed about and slipped into a defilade. The living were not the only ones who could still get you- and the fog was mixed with both gun smoke and the white haze of smoke shells, that must have fallen to hide a retreat. The first bodies you passed already told of the cost- there were many of them lying about. Fragments. Pieces that were impossible to distinguish which nation they had been blown away from. Helmets and weapons. A C1 tank that had driven into a pool of mud and sank like a ship, its rear pitched up and hatches thrown open. You looked inside- the crew had been shot inside.

Closer along. This time the tank you saw was a C2 that had been cracked open by a heavy shell of some sort. No sign off the crew. Craters freshly blown had tossed up old bodies and bones. Where was…

The sucking sound of steps in mud. You whirled about with your carbine and aimed, waited.

“Hold off,” a voice said, and a pair of steel-armored Vitelians, their faces concealed by plates like old time knights, walked to you like they were at a beach in summer. “Hey, look, it’s the Moss-Muff enthusiast.”

“Arditi?” you lowered your carbine. “When did you get here?”

“In the middle of the fighting, yous tanks were really having it out for each other. Good for us that we rushed over. Good for yous too, even though it looked like you were doing fine.” The one speaking jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll wanna look over there. This was where some Imperial stormtroopers managed to bite into your flank. They didn’t gets too far, but it moved the tanks around.”

You nodded, and followed on. “We’ve met, right?” you asked, “I don’t recognize you with all that on.”

“Aye, we have,” the Arditi said, “Sergeant’s your best bud. Came as soon as we’s heard a crisis was on over here, where yous was.”

Thanks, Leo, you thought as you wondered how far he and his men must have had to come. “How many of you are there?”

“Twenty. That was enough.”

The way the man said it, he didn’t feel needed, but some said that each Arditi was worth ten men by himself. That was definitely true of Leo.

An overturned Reich tank, bigger than either any Vitelian or Imperial tank you’d seen, lay turned on its side. Around it, you finally spotted the battalion. All around were tanks and bodies, some of the vehicles so damaged that they looked identical to the wrecks were it not for the crew outside of them in varying states of health. This had been a bitterly fought battle, but one which Vitelia held the field afterwards. A victory.

Asking after your lieutenant got you led to where she was- she was seated by a bog-hole where the treads of a C2 just slipped over the surface of stagnant water, an oily sludge of muck. Chiara was soaked through- and looked dazed, as did her driver nearby. A bandage had been tied over her head- and above her towered Leo, a discarded pile of armor laid next to the officer and the only other female in the unit, her driver.

“…Should get to the infirmary fast as you can. That corpse-swamp’ll eat you alive the first chance you give it. Don’t have enough water in my canteen to be sure I-“ Leo noticed you had approached, and turned with a smile. “Sorry, Bonetto. I should’ve cleared up my business earlier.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here at all,” you said, reaching for his hand, which he took firmly. “What happened?”

“From what I heard, her tank went over that rise,” Leo pointed, “To engage that thing.” He pointed to another Reich heavy, this one right-side up and thus easier to identify. A hulking beast, it did indeed have a cannon in the front and machine gun positions on the side, as well as one mounted in what must have been…was it a pilothouse or a commander’s seat? It might have been both. It had been attacked with cannon fire, as well as the machine gun port, and the treads. All had been thoroughly pockmarked. “Then that thing,” he pointed to the overturned heavy, “blew up the ground under it. Near miss. Sent it sliding down where it fell into this corpse-pool.”

“Then,” the driver of Chiara’s tank coughed hoarsely, “Almost drowned, until he came ‘round.”

“Don’t thank me until you get cleaned off and get the gangrene scoured out,” Leo said. “To be honest, Bonetto, I was looking for you around here. Got worried when I didn’t see any sign.”

“You’re telling me that,” you said, “My tank was immobilized before this. I got put on runner duty.”

“Bit of a demotion,” Leo said as he began to pick up his armor pieces and don them again. The amount on the ground would have made him about as protected as one of the tanks when he donned it all. Relatively, at least. “Your battalion commander’s alright. Things got close for him, it seems like, but Di Scurostrada arrived in time to keep him from getting cornered. He’s around over…that ways I think.”

“I’ll find him later,” you said, “I have to report to my team that we…won?”

“Won, yeah,” Leo said, “Not a pretty win, but not an Arditi Victory.”

That turn of phrase was no haughty declaration. An Arditi Victory, after all, was a dark metaphor for one where you were the last individual thing alive in the battlefield.

-----

The battle had no name yet, but while you had fended off an Imperial assault, and held the field, which allowed for the retrieval of enemy armor, the Special Weapons Battalion had still taken serious casualties. Down to less than two-thirds strength, it was to be withdrawn from an area where it might have become a target, to be deployed elsewhere when the timing felt appropriate. The following days were filled with sneaky salvage operations, as you watched hundreds of infantrymen march past you, heard artillery boom, and the attempts to seize the opportunity for a counterattack were launched, seemingly without great effect. Some of your battalion’s platoons were deployed to aid these assaults, but their piecemeal commitment, while appreciated by the troops, seemed to more result in these tanks also wearing out, if they were not damaged or destroyed, sometimes lost in territory swiftly regained by the enemy. The battalion was whittled down further. When the salvaging was done, therefore, the Battalion was too. No more small commitments by platoons- you were withdrawn in totality back to Sella Castella. Parts of the unit were already being recomposed of Reich armor caught in the battle before, at least, those not sent back to Donom Dei for examination.

The replacement officer for your company came- much to your displeasure, it was a familiar face. He wore an eyepatch now, but the spiteful glare of Julio Di Di Portaltramanto told you that, despite official courtesies, he remembered you well. At the very least his new goons seemed to keep him on a tight leash. He made no moves on either of the two women of the unit. For now.

There was said to be awards pending for those with exceptional parts in that nameless great tank battle, but it would be some time before you saw anything of them. Inspections for military awards were stopped up in the higher realms of administration, you had been told. Too much for them to do. Too little time for them to spend it reviewing suggestions for accolades, unless they were too great- or politically beneficial- to set aside endlessly for later.

For your part, you were very, very tired. September into October, spent in retraining and reequipping. Small operations like before. Battles where many tanks were lost apparently spooked the new higher command, who wanted to keep the unit in reserve. Plans had been hinted at for a second armor battalion, but rebuilding your unit took priority- priority not reflected at in the rate of tank production itself. Every so often, a new Imperial tank came to your unit, captured in a failed attack or an assault, as their propensity to break down or get stuck in the mud, just like yours, made plenty abandoned and vulnerable to theft. You had enough to outfit three platoons by the time October 8th rolled around.

Happy twenty-fourth birthday, Bonetto, you thought as you woke up entirely too early that day and checked your watch- a present to yourself would be to sleep in that day. Little would be demanded as per usual…

-----

A knock at the door. Probably an adjutant or the like summoning you for something. You got up, flattened your hair down with your hand, put on your uniform, and heaved yourself to the door. You had slept enough- and were awake when the door called you, but the situation in the war had been stagnant. You felt listless and apathetic. When would it end? Each time you went out to battle, you were beaten up, withdrawn, rebuilt, and sent back out. Yet you were still in Sella Castella. Still in Auratus. The dream you had last night had been the one of you running with your friends from so long ago. Yet you had stopped and looked backward to home, and when you looked forwards again, you had not seen green, rolling hills and ever-closer Zeissenburg, but the fog and rot of No Man’s Land. The weary, judgmental eyes of both friend and enemy alike staring at you from trenches, wondering what the hell you were so hopeful for.

That dream was still fresh in the mind when you opened the door, and immediately, a mass pressed into you and wrapped itself around your body. You looked down and saw green hair.

“Palmiro,” Yena said, muffled by your chest, “I’ve missed you so.”

It took a moment- but you relaxed, and let your arms go around her. “So have I, for you.” You pulled her into your room and closed the door. Not because of temptations- there was not only a time and place, but you were frankly too tired to be mischievous. You just appreciated her being near again.

“It is the day of your birth, Palmiro,” Yena said, leaning back in your arms, “I had to be here to give you your gift.”

“You are my gift today,” you told her, as you kissed her on her lips.

Yena laughed. “Yes, but, not that.” She took your hand…and put it to her belly. “I wanted to wait to tell you until…but…Palmiro…” She beamed up at you, “Yjens has blessed our union. Her approval must be great, for it to be so after only one coupling.” You blinked at her quizzically, so she elaborated. “I am with child, Palmiro. Your child.”

…

>…Oh, that’s…not reassuring. Try to smile. This knowledge was a burden, with this war…
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?
>Apologize to her. This was irresponsible of you. You weren’t even in a place where you could say you were certain to survive, let alone marry her and settle somewhere.
>Other?

>>5773088
>…Oh, that’s…not reassuring. Try to smile. This knowledge was a burden, with this war…

I'm sure Bonetto will be happy but yeah in the middle of a war with no ending right now it might be a bit worrying. Shit like what if I get killed and my child gets orphaned?

>>5773088
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?
Let's not ruin the moment. Women tend to remember the reaction to this sort of thing to their graves.

>>5773100
support

>>5773088
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?
>Other? (Kiss her. Shower her with praise and affection. Make your love for her as loud as you can and leave your doubts silent.)

>>5773088
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?

>>5773088
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?

>>5773088
>She seems so happy. Maybe not what you thought Yena would have for you, but if she was glad for this, then you were too, right?

>>5773088
>>5773106
Support

>>5773092
A discomforting realization to swallow.

>>5773100
>>5773101
>>5773112
>>5773117
>>5773124
Be happy- because she is.

>>5773106
>>5773235
Give her lots of smooches, and smother any doubt.

Writing.

>>5773238
The real question: who's hair colour will the kid inherit?

>>5773271
Maybe he'll be an anime protag and get both.

Update soon. I was hit with a bad case of "can't wake up for most of the day."

>>5773271
You'll see.
...I won't make claims at what would be genetically accurate rather than what's more fun though. Just that green hair is recessive like blonde is.

>>5773543
I'm not sure if you're talking like Yu-Gi-Oh or having both of them across different kids.

She seemed so happy. The news that she was pregnant wasn’t what you thought of when you said she had a present, but, if she was glad for it, you were too, right? Yes- best to push that over any other doubts. Any sadness or boredom. You pulled her in for a kiss, and tightened your arms around her waist. When you let her go, you tried to smile in a way that wasn’t false. “That’s wonderful, Yena.”

“…” Yena’s smile faded a bit. “Is something the matter, Palmiro? You sound sad.”

“I’m not,” you said, “I’m just tired. Things have been tiring here.”

It wasn’t a good excuse, but what could you do? Yet, her smile grew once more- against expectations.

Yena’s smile descended into a small frown, her brows raised. She took your hand and led you to the bed, motioned for you to sit, and sat beside you. It was a tiny little thing- while an officer was given the privilege of a room, this was little more than a cot, a stool and a table. “It is alright for you to be tired,” she said, putting a hand over your shoulder and pushing you. She had no hope of actually moving you, but it was a gentle suggestion that was mindlessly followed as you rested your head on her lap. “It’s alright for you to rest. You were there for me at my worst. As you were for me, I’ll be here for you.”

It was nice- you felt your cheek against her thighs through her skirt, though you suspected something. A hand went around a thigh. “You’ve lost weight,” you said.

“The Capital has strict rationing in place,” Yena said, “I’m sorry. The work does not pay very much.”

“You work?” you asked, “Have you not been getting the money in my letters?”

“I have,” she said, “but I want to buy you things…and the luxuries have not been cheap.”

“You don’t have to go hungry for my sake,” you said. Especially if she was pregnant.

“Less butter and meat is no trouble compared to what is asked of you, Palmiro,” Yena stroked your head, “Not that many do not complain anyways.”

“Not about you, surely,” you said, raising your own hand to touch her cheek.

Yena smiled at you, but shook her head. “There are plenty who do not wish to see a Nief’yem amongst them. They think that I am of the west, and I learned not to go near some places that prefer to believe that on sight. No, there have been protests and assemblies. They have quieted since the Beneficenza was rounded up. The men of age were conscripted. The women and children, I do not know where they went besides that the Beneficenza is a ghost town now. The gendarmes only lifted curfews after they were all taken away.”

You had never heard of such, the conscriptions, exile, or curfews- but why would you? “You don’t make the capital sound like a pleasant place to be.”

“…I don’t go on walks,” Yena said, “It does not matter. I am here for you, not to tell you about how it is away from here.”

“We don’t receive much news out here,” you said, “You’d be surprised how dull it can be out here, even with the danger.”

“The new town looks like it has a lot of excitement.”

“Not for me,” you said, without mentioning why. The New Sella Castella was a pop-up town of vices, and its heart was a tangle of not only licentious business, but increasingly illegal sorts. One of the assignments bandied about at meetings to take place sometime was to take soldiers and raid every building, but somebody had their fingers in that particular pie, and kept delaying action. Though, to be fair, it was a place to potentially rent a room for yourselves, where nobody cared about noise coming through the thin walls. “I have it quite good actually. The machines I work with-“

“The ones outside here?” Yena asked, “They do not seem to be keeping them as secret anymore. What are they?”

“Armored fortresses that move,” you said, “They’re made to attack the Reich, though some of them, we captured from the Imperials.”

“I don’t know how they could be defeated,” Yena said.

“It is far easier than you might think,” you said darkly, “But they are fickle things. They don’t last very long in the conditions on the front, so they’re kept back until we have them in concentration to fight well with. Meanwhile, the typical rifleman has to sit out in the trenches. Has to be always on watch, is always under attack by artillery, or gas, or night raiders. It’s no surprise men go mad out there.”

Yena began to look concerned. “Palmiro…”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, “I have it better.”

“No, it’s that,” Yena looked up and to the door, “Leo is out there, isn’t he? He cannot send mail very often, I know.”

“Yes, he is,” you said, “Yeah. But he’s different. I don’t know how he does it, but it seems like he’s just too strong for anything to kill him. It sounds like nonsense, I know, but he’s up to the challenge. He’s just special that way.”

“A blessed man, with a special purpose given to him by the world,” Yena said, bending down, and kissing your head, “Like you are.”

That got a small chuckle from you. “Having a woman like you already does plenty for my ego. You shouldn’t feed me more of it, you’ll poison me.”

“But I’d love to spoil you,” Yena said with a hint of coyness. “You haven’t had somebody mother you in too long, and I am a mother…” A kiss was shared again. “…You are special though, Palmiro. I truly believe so.”

Hum. “This war has taught me differently,” you said, “I don’t want to upset you, but I’ve heard many a story about people with delusions of heroism being punished for hubris. Chiara almost drowned in…but Leo saved her driver.”

“She wrote me about this,” Yena said, “I told her that both she and her driver ought to show proper appreciation, and that whomever showed it first would be the better for it.” She looked pensive. “May I ask you something?”

“You can always ask me anything.”

“What do you believe in, Palmiro?” Yena asked, “I remember some of your friends being quite flippant about their belief that there are no gods, or none that are recognized as such. Chiara told me that you have not done Emck in a long time.”

“Because I only wish to do such with you.”

Yena wasn’t distracted. “You should not tempt the ire of misfortune. Do you follow a faith, though? Not for show, but for truth. I do not wish to sound selfish, but,” she looked sad, “I would rather you find the protection of the two divines than forsake them for the ego of a mankind that believes itself master over all. I will not condemn you for it, I would be the last person who had any right to morally judge you, but…it would reassure me to know where to find you if…” She faded off.

>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…
>Maybe you wouldn’t be called the most devoted follower, but you did recognize Judgment. Just that you also recognized that, well, maybe tribute to others was just done for the best intention.
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
>Other?
Also,
>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best. Is there anything on the checklist to do for a birthday? Frankly, you’re lucky to even get her for the sunlight hours.

>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

I wouldn’t know what to do with arena. Perhaps a nice dinner? I’m open to suggestions.

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.

>>5773844
You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best. Is there anything on the checklist to do for a birthday? Frankly, you’re lucky to even get her for the sunlight hours.

Get a cake, if one can be found in this judgeforsaken town.

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best. Is there anything on the checklist to do for a birthday? Frankly, you’re lucky to even get her for the sunlight hours. (Do Emck with wife! Just because there is God in the Revolution, doesn't mean we can't make the wife happy, we've been holding out for her after all. Then maybe a nice dinner if such is to be found in this place.)

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…
>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best. Is there anything on the checklist to do for a birthday? Frankly, you’re lucky to even get her for the sunlight hours.
Stroll, cake, Emck ritual, finish by giving what the Yena’s been coy about.

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best.
Try cooking with her. Do the Emck. Cuddle session.

>>5773883
Supporting

>>5773844
>>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.

>>5773845
>>5773857
>>5773883
>>5773896
The Cathedra is of God- the Revolution is against a Devil.

>>5773854
>>5773858
>>5773894
>>5773903
Is God made by man? Then let there be a new God be that which strikes down the eld, if the principle of a God is that of a Just one.

I'll call it when I wake up tomorrow.

>>5773844
>>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war

>Sex

>>5773844
>>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
>>You’ll probably only get a day with Yena at best. Is there anything on the checklist to do for a birthday? Frankly, you’re lucky to even get her for the sunlight hours.
>Stroll, cake, Emck ritual, finish by giving what the Yena’s been coy about.

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

Cuddling and partaking in some shared hobbies

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

Burn candles and flowers.

>>5773842
Some other questions:

-How far along is Yena again? Can she tell if its a boy or girl (like how Gerovic could detect Hilda's) ?

-What's the general sliding scale from best to worst places for mountainfolk to live in on Vinstraga?

Also:
>“She wrote me about this,” Yena said, “I told her that both she and her driver ought to show proper appreciation, and that whomever showed it first would be the better for it.”

Possible Chiara and Leo? Would make the civil war even more tragic in retrospect.....

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.

I want to actually play a Luthen from Andor type character. I choose this.

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
>Take her out further, into nature. Away from the vice of the city and stench of the No Man Land. Have a picnic.

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…
Are we really going to save the Emck for Yena and then not believe in anything?

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…
As long as we're still being a Revolutionary Futurist about it.

>>5774138
Yeah, that seems a bit contradictory to our previous actions, to be perfectly honest about it.

>>5774138
>>5774158
Obviously Bonetto isn't pious enough to not participate in earth heresy /s

Personally I agree with >>5774152 .I want to see how Bonetto balances his faith with his politics, just like how Chiara subscribes to her own brand of religious Utopianism. He might be a proper Judge-fearing guy, but that doesn't mean he's a fan of the Cathedra as it is now for example.

>>5773844

>>5774138
That's a good point. I'll switch >>5773980 to
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…

>>5774138
>Are we really going to save the Emck for Yena and then not believe in anything?
I think it works either way.
If Bonetto lacks faith in the traditional preaching of the church he's known most of his life, then his exploring Emck with Yena, because of Yena and not because of supposed supernatural benefit seems just as pointed an indication of how much he's come to respect her and her own cultural leaning.

>>5774138
>>5774158
>>5774193
>>5774200
>>5774250
And again, it's not believing in nothing, it's believing in the coming dawn.
It's not a god you pray to, or cultural quirks you practice, it's something new rooted in the needs and wants of everchanging men in everchanging circumstances. And it's something Bonetto has put his whole heart into pushing thus far.
It is that faith in the new world we make today that pushes Bonetto forward, and while it would be interesting to see a character try to balance faith and politics, we already have Chiara doing that.

>>5774263
This. Everything we've done so far, all the struggling and killing and suffering, has been for the revolution. The fighting of this horrific war can't be justified as just a simple land grab for glory and prestige, while still preserving the social status quo and the old institutions. It needs to be for something more, a fight to remake Vitelia and propel it into the new world we've envisioned for so long. Everything has to be for the revolution, and so the revolution has to become our religion. It's the only way for all this to be worth it.

>>5774263
>>5774250
I agree with this Anon. While Bonetto lacks the faith in something divine, he makes it up in his faith for the Coming Dawn. All good on Earth comes from the deeds of righteous men, be it the will of Gods, something else or nothing at all. Perhaps it will dissapoint Yena, perhaps not. But our practice of Emck with her will always be a sign of love and respect for her and just maybe that's enough for the Gods, if they truly exist.

Your judgeless ways will be why the Vynmarkians kick your ass in 20 years

>>5773844
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
Solid arguments from Judgeless masses.
>Everyone else seems to have good ideas for Yena. I just want her to have a good evening.

>>5773844
>You are a typical Vitelian. Holy Judgment is your culture and society, not just faith. Though God is difficult to find in this place…
Forget balancing faith and religion, we're gonna make it revolutionary.

>>5773844
Yeah, I'll switch >>5774200 back to
>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war.
Sorry Tang!

>>5774461
Why does faith enter the picture then? Why does the revolution need to fundamentally become a religion? That’s no excuse. Change for Change’s sake is worthless garbage, and I see no reason to change our faith. There isn’t any good reason for it. It only demonstrates a lack of conviction.

Quite frankly, unless the faith is somehow ‘evil’ or antithetical to the utopia the revolution promises, I don’t see why they can’t coexist in harmony. Believing we need to ditch the former for the latter demonstrates a lack of vision as well.

Of course it's possible for the old faith to coexist with the revolution, but I just don't see it as likely considering Palmiro's character and his present experiences. He's seen extreme things in this war and I think it's very appropriate for his religious beliefs to become more extreme as a result. We know from his revolutionary politics that he's not the sort of guy who just blindly clings to an old system because that's the way it is; he's the kind of person who wants to change things for the better, out with the old broken system and in with the new. I just don't see him being the sort of guy to experience the horrors of the front and go "This is fine, I'm sure it's all just part of the Judge's plan." I think it's more likely that he's becoming deeply disturbed by his war experiences and this will lead him to cling even more desperately and holistically to his revolutionary ideals. He may have had traditional religious beliefs before the war but I don't see them surviving the mud of the trenches.

>>5774656
That’s sort of dumb. WE DECIDE. Do we want Bonetto to break under the pressure and go full radical? Or will his conviction prevail and stay true to his original faith? People are very, very capable from bouncing back from trauma. I know this firsthand. This war COULD break Bonetto, but it also might not.

Yeesh, this is a lot. I'd best count everything correctly.

>>5773845
>>5773857
>>5773883
>>5773896
>>5774012
>>5774043
>>5774052
>>5774138
>>5774152
>>5774546
The Faith of Vitelia is not that which needs to be overturned.

>>5773854
>>5773858
>>5773894
>>5773903
>>5773971
>>5773980
>>5774119
>>5774492
A new way is needed, and you will forge the path.

10-8?

I feel the closeness of things demands an equally balanced character worldview, of course...as people have written in great detail on.
Writing.

>>5774062
>-How far along is Yena again?
Almost two months or so. Not long at all.
>Can she tell if its a boy or girl (like how Gerovic could detect Hilda's)?
No. She is not attuned to the threads of fate like Gerovic (or Rufia).

>-What's the general sliding scale from best to worst places for mountainfolk to live in on Vinstraga?
The best places are in the isolated mountain communities of course, or Kallec or Trelan. Not that most places mind them- they're isolationist by nature and people usually leave them alone and have no reason to have greivances, and they're not troublesome entrants to society when they do come down or interact. The places that do are places like Twaryi who just aren't trusting of anybody of the continent, or the Netillian military's procedure following removing them from their communities. Paellans dislike mountainfolk far more than Vitelians, the western sorts of Vitelians that is, due largely to the bellicose Kalleans.

>>5774683
What's the main reasons for Kalleans being noted as particularly warlike (even from outsiders like the Lances)?Too close to the Maelstrom for their liking?

>>5774683
>I feel the closeness of things demands an equally balanced character worldview
Well, these are kinda mutually exclusive options here. I don't think anyone would be satisfied for something that would basically be the option that nobody voted for.

>>5774726
It wouldn't be that, no. It's more that I like to see a close vote as a sort of internal train of thought though there is a definite, concrete answer. Not like a sliding scale of, say, shade of color.

>>5774721
The truth would have to be asked of a Kallen.
What Bonetto knows from being a Vitelian close to them is that Kalleans consider themselves the proper succession from the First Empire, as well as having a revanchism absent from other mountainfolk when it concerns them being native to the continent. Perhaps some believe that Kallens merely think what all Mountainfolk think if they were allowed to have power to do anything about it.

>>5774726
>The Judge wills the Revolution
EZPZ

>>5774734
The Judge meant for all his children to be equals, it's humans who have corrupted it etc etc.

>>5774679
I'm aware that we decide, but personally I find it more rewarding for characters to make decisions that are consistent with their previous thoughts and actions. I also don't agree that becoming more radical constitutes a failure of conviction or breaking under pressure; one could just as easily interpret it as growth of his conviction in his revolutionary beliefs to extend them to other areas of his life. I also think it just makes for a more interesting character arc for Palmiro to gradually grow more radicalized over time, especially if he were to theoretically end up in some sort of major role in a real national revolution.

Do we need to organise a time for the marriage ceremony with Yena?

>>5774761
That's valid, but I don't see being faithful as a drawback or something that makes someone less radical when it comes to being a revolutionary.

From a pragmatic point of view in a deeply religious society like Vitelia the Revolution will likely go smoother and not alienate the significant amount of people not dyed-in-the wool Utopanists if they're reassured the Revolutionaries aren't godless extremists that'll try to stamp out their faith and give the other side a strong push/pull factor.

>>5774733
Mountainfolk state that has been sufficiently Vitelianpilled to believe they're the true successors to the Empire is pretty hilarious, ngl.

>If there is a God, it is the Revolution. The Future that you cannot falter in chasing. Such is a more tangible thing to you than anything reached by prayers at this point, in this war

>>5774782
She said that children born outside of marriage are soulless iirc, so we should get to it soon.

You closed your eyes and thought. Yes, the Judge seemed distant from this war, but was that a sign of absence? Or of disapproval? The Holy Judgment of God was a pillar of Vitelian society, of history, culture, to imagine it without the Judge was impossible. What about you, though? Was God with you? Did you need the Judge?

Did Vitelia?

Some of the Young Futurists had answered this question in their own way, while not casting it all away and keeping it secret from the vast majority of their fellow Vitelians, who could not understand such a thing as atheism besides it being an egocentric disease wrought from immorality. That answer had not been no god- but the god of Revolution. That a new supreme being to represent the Dawn had to come about, and if it would not rise on its own, then it would have to be brought forth.

That wasn’t you, though. To you, if the Revolution was just-and surely it was- the Judge would be on your side.

That was too much to say, though. A debate not needed to have with Yena. “I am a follower of the Cathedra,” you said, “An adherent to Holy Judgment. Does that leave any doubt?”

“I suppose not,” Yena said, “Although…” She pursed her lips, “You must not think highly of my own reverences.”

“I did not say that,” you said, “I would not perform any rituals with you with my fingers crossed. Are you troubled by my beliefs, though?”

“No,” Yena shook her head, “There is a saying, that Above belongs to Sopheiivel, and Below, to Yjens. Yjens is dead. She does not demand our reverence, but our remembrance.”

“…Who is that the above belongs to?”

“It is our word for the Judge. The Blind Warden.” Yena explained, “The Judge is nameless no matter who speaks of him.”

“I see,” you said, opening your eyes again. “Say. We ought to take care of the Emck. I’ve not done it in far too long.”

“Is it not a burden?” Yena asked.

“Of course not,” you said, “Besides, you said remembrance was enough for her favor, right? That seems perfectly fine. I’ll take all the favor I can get. Though,” You turned your head to sink your cheek further into the meat of Yena’s thighs, “I’ll be hard pressed to get up this morning.”

Yena turned her body sideways and curled around you. “We can stay here if you like,” she whispered.

It was tempting. “No, no,” you said, “I intend to have plenty of time for this. Just wait here a moment, there’s something I have to take care of.”

You left Yena sitting on the bed- but what you had to “take care of” was in fact making sure that your new company commander was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t allow him to be seen by Yena- and letting him see her intimate with you was also a bad idea. Once it was confirmed that he had spent last night- and was likely still this morning- tucked into the core of New Sella Castella, you went back and retrieved Yena. She was already dressed for the autumn- a deep green wool shawl over a softer green jumper and a forest hued skirt, white stockings visible about her calves. You could go a decent way out for your Emck. Especially without any black uniformed imperial exiles to worry about, and the front far enough away for their sudden presence to be nothing short of inexplicable.

One of the rights of even the lowliest officer was that of freedom to roam while not on active duty, though you informed Di Scurostrada’s staff adjutant that you would be out of town for the morning, and would return by brunch time. None could refuse you that. Besides the fact that you were popular in your unit, you were also quite diligent with your duties. Nobody would accuse you of shirking work that had yet to be done.

Well, perhaps Yena might, but that was what you sought to amend.

The morning frost lent a crispness to the air- a freshness that increased the further you and Yena walked away, the more distant you grew from not just the war, but also the town where the lost souls from it sought rest. For the first time in a very long while, you heard birdsong- had to stop and marvel at it.

Yena squeezed your hand. “We are alone, Palmiro. Isn’t it nice? To be near nobody but each other?”

“Each other and the world,” you said, squeezing her hand back and spinning her as you raised her arm, “Is this a good place for it?”

“It is,” Yena said, reaching into the satchel over her shoulder for a little bag of the dry, fuzzy flowers and a candle wrapped in mountain script. “Let’s start.”
The flowers smoldered in a gloved hand- you and Yena watched the ashes dance on the breeze, float away, and fade into smoke. You both sat cross legged beneath a tree on a hill- looking southwards. All that could be seen of the war here was a railway stop before Sella Castella, but you’d been here, and knew that somewhere here was the abandoned ruin of a village wiped out by Imperial infiltrators.

“Yena?” you asked when the flowers had near crumbled to their stems, “I was wondering about marriage.”

Yena looked to you. “You cannot leave for the mountains right now, can you?”

“No,” you said, “But maybe something else, or, we can just get an officiation from the hall. Didn’t you say that the children of the unmarried are Children of Nothing or something?”

“Ah, no. It’s if they never marry, not if they are not married at the time. Else there would be no children for fear of such.”

“But I am a soldier in a war, Yena,” you said.

Yena tilted her head. “You promised to return and take me to the highest peak. I have not lost faith in you.” She got on her knees and leaned over to you, gave you a kiss on the cheek, “I believe in you and will not hear doubt from the lips that gave me that promise.”

There were plenty more those lips would give. “Thank you, dear,” you said, pulling her into her lap and kissing her. She giggled as she pulled you down to roll in the grass. When you rolled up and she lay atop you, you remembered also, “You said you wished to spoil me?”

“Hmm,” Yena smiled mischievously, “We are alone…” She looked over her shoulder, “I can spoil you a little further away.”

Asking what she intended was an idiotic question- you just tantalized yourself with the possibilities as you went into the woods, and found a stump.

“Sit,” Yena said, leading you to it and setting her bag on the ground. She slid her shawl off, set it on top of the bag- then unbuttoned her woolen jumper and pulled it off of her arms, leaving her torso bare save for a thin wrap around the breasts, supported by a string around the neck. You reached and groped her sides- and she batted your hands away, scolding. “I said,” her smile turning devious as she untied the knot in her underwear with a single hand and let it fall away, her breasts falling out, “Sit, and rest…”

She knelt down and pushed herself between her legs, and she let you have but a small touch upon her chest before you stared to the treetops and let her work.

-----

“Phew,” Yena wiped a trail of spittle from her mouth, and exhaled as she buttoned up your trousers, before sitting on your lap. “I knew you needed that, but I did not know how badly.”

It was true. Neither had you, but her energetic enthusiasm was the sort able to draw unknowns out. “It’s your turn, isn’t it?” You asked as you fondled Yena’s bare chest.

Yena nuzzled your neck. “The day is still young, my lion.”

“I haven’t seen the rest of you yet,” you pulled at her skirt.

“Have some patience,” Yena said, resting her fingers on your lower hand and halting it, “Not so tired anymore, since I stoked your hunger, my wild beast…”

It would be a good time to eat, you thought, a good time to get back, but you could hardly molest your fiancée at one of the new cafes. There was a code of conduct to follow even in the outer rings of New Sella Castella. Though you didn’t let her put her clothes back on too quickly- this would have to be savored for a long time.

-----

Coffee was one of the pillars of Vitelian society. It was said by the Vitelian philosopher and inventor Filipito Arrancie, who lived in the prime of the Second Empire, that the First Vitelian Empire fell without coffee, and that the second would fall because it lost coffee too. He turned out to be quite correct, even if the statement was said in jest, for Vitelia just like all of Vinstraga had unsteady access to true coffee. It could come from the east, west, or after Valsten’s expeditions to Zeeland, even the south, but it did not grow near Vitelia. Great banks stored coffee beans like gold even now- for they would always find people willing to pay any price for a hot drink. The Nauk might have claimed to have brought coffee to Vinstraga’s shores, but they could never claim to be the experts of it like Vitelieans.

Of course, the Royal Vitelian Army never shorted its soldiers of coffee, it was a standard part of a unit’s ration, but it was said to be low grade stuff by aficionados. You couldn’t give that to Yena, could you?

The “café” you were told about by one of your platoon members, better but still recuperating from wounds, was less a building and more a wagon that had been trapped in place both by similar constructions that sprang up and fell away like worms after rain, and by the accumulation of chairs and tables both actual and roughly made approximations. Bright yellow paint with a steaming up logo was freshly applied to the side paneling of the vehicle, where some form of Vitelian you were hesitant to define as such rather than a lost Vyemani hawked his wares at prices that were not as outrageous as might be expected. Truly a generous soul. Much more generous when, by chance, Leo came up from behind and asked the proprietor if he was charging double that day.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo grumbled as he sat with you and Yena around a small table, “He’ll never go hungry. He has a special line outside of rationing and supply.”

“A black-market in the middle of an army base?” Yena asked, as she sipped at her cup. It was admittedly much nicer coffee than you expected from the surroundings. Full bodied, smooth, and with a floral chocolate to its flavor absent from front coffee. It needed no reinforcement from flavor or sweetener.

“Everybody gets their cut at some step on the ladder,” Leo said. “Enough about that. Yena. Haven’t seen you in a while. Bonetto told me you were doing good, but it’s good to see it for myself.”

“You as well,” Yena said gently, “Did you come here to have brunch with us?”

“No,” Leo said, “Came to pick up a sack of beans to haul back, but I’ve got time.”

“I see,” Yena sipped again, “Has Chiara or Marcella come to see you lately?”

Leo looked up with a suspect look. “Maybe. Why would they?”

An annoyed squint crossed over Yena’s eyes. “I see. Fine, then.”

“So they’ve rotated your bunch off the line again?” You asked Leo.

“Not just them, the whole unit,” Leo said, “Don’t know why. I guess it’s for a reason like you’ve been taken out to sit for a bit. Something’s being planned. If I were them, I’d put us together again. Arditi and tanks work well together from how I’ve seen.”

“I do wish Cesare and the others would come down here,” you said, “It feels like we’ve left them behind in a way. The Colonel’s also getting pressured, I think. The respect for our education has reduced, and some people only see the spare meat.”

Leo looked crestfallen, and peered into his coffee for answers he did not have. “Perhaps we can help the others if we’re transferred north. Not that any dastard would be fool enough to take a man with a limp into battle- I suppose Cesare could be considered to have had a bit of luck in that. Men who are injured in war can have far worse mauling.” The huge man looked up at Yena again and seemed to reconsider his choice of subject. “I suppose you came up for Bonetto’s birthday, huh? Sorry, Bonetto, I didn’t get you anything. The day sort of crept up on me.”

“You got us coffee,” you shrugged. “But yes.”

“Well, Palmiro?” Yena asked expectantly, “Will you tell him?”

Leo began to take a drink.

“Yena is pregnant.”

The drink was spat out of his mouth as Leo choked on it. “…Ah,” he settled himself, “…Congratulations.”

Yena covered her mouth as she laughed. “You make it seem unexpected.”

“Just much faster than expected,” Leo muttered as he brushed the spill of his breast, “Judge Above.”

The smell of coffee and a Leo that was not a hardened Arditi all the time. A bustle that was not reflective of martial discipline. If you closed your eyes, perhaps you could imagine that you were at Lapizlazulli again. Perhaps, you could peer into the future where you all returned. Maybe you were already at that future and you were reminiscing in the summer breeze on the cliffs…

Yet you were not. Not yet. It was too soon to presume who would be there still and who would not. Too many would already never be seen again.

>Talk About or Inquire About anything with those present?
>Other things?

>>5775162
>Talk About or Inquire About anything with those present?

Better break them the news about our new company commander, especially Leo since he'll probably have to see the guy again soon.

Other that that nothing military I think, it's basically been two years of stalemate.

I forgot whether we asked or not, but if Leo could be our best man at the wedding once the war is over it would be nice.

>Other things?
Maybe a moment of silence or toast to those no longer with us.

Questions QM. How widespread is anti-Reich sentiment? Is it common for people and the country to hate/Heavily Dislike Grossreich?

>>5775162
>Tease Leo a bit about getting a woman himself
>Ask how he's doing in general, besides military affairs
>Ask how Chiara and her driver are doing

>>5775162
>Talk About or Inquire About anything with those present? (Bug Leo about finding a girlfriend.)
Sure he...can't really find one here on the front, especially being part of the Arditi, but he has at least two options. What does he think of dear Chiara and Marcella, anyway? If not as romantic prospects as pals at least.
>Other things? (Wedding Planning)
Not quite sure if we went into how Nief'yem wedding ceremonies worked, but would it be something we'd need to plan extensively like I assume "regular weddings" are, or is it really just Bonetto bridal carrying Yena up a mountain?

>>5775206
Support.

>>5775162
>>Talk About or Inquire About anything with those present?
>Ask how Leo is doing in general, besides military affairs.
>Bug Leo about finding a girlfriend.
>Other things? (Wedding Planning with Yena)

Will be calling it in a couple hours.

>>5775204
>How widespread is anti-Reich sentiment? Is it common for people and the country to hate/Heavily Dislike Grossreich?
It's pretty prevalent in much of the continent, though the most deep seated and justified contempt comes from the Sosalian regions where Kaiser Alexander's policy of cultural purging actually took effect. Emre for example was a largely culturally autonomous protectorate due to the circumstances in its takeover (large scale unrest and revolt after The Shattering meant that Alexander was basically invited in- and then he stayed) while Ellowie was an active collaborator. That said the Grossreich is definitely the big threat and the common "bad guy" to everybody else. How much that is justified depends on who is asked.

>>5775506
Are Vitelians native to the continent or did they migrate over from the west/Caelus like the Nauks did?

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Alrighty.

>>5775167
Tell of the return of whatever you call him as a nickname.
Seethe over how you can't frag him without causing a time paradox.
Leo's presence has indeed been requested.

>>5775206
>>5775322
>>5775301
>>5775506
Tell Leo that he needs to find company besides Arditi.

Writing now. Was preoccupied drawing something stupid to break me out of drawing funk. It is meme logic and not to be taken literally.

>>5775629
>Are Vitelians native to the continent or did they migrate over from the west/Caelus like the Nauks did?
It's a complicated question. Hill Vitelians and Sea Vitelieans are, of course, different ethnicities, not just the same people but one is tanned. Hill Vitelians have the characteristics of Nauk, so anthropologists believe they are such, even though Vitelians disagree and say they are of the same pre-Nauk race that Emreans claim to be, though without the qualifier of having significant Nauk blood mixed in. Sea Vitelians either came from the sea (duh) or from the west (like the Paellans and Dhegyar), or perhaps even from the south, but they did migrate to Vitelia at some point during early Nauk Imperial times. The lack of a recorded account means most just accept them as from "the sea."
The ethnic differences between Hill and Sea Vitelians were once causes of war between peoples but the First Empire, the Dhegyar invasion, and the Second Empire's efforts have more or less united the people as Vitelian, though they maintain slight cultural differences and keep to historical regions, save for certain cosmopolitan places such as the Capital. Though such ethnic boundaries were established in the First Empire, as well, presumably to keep the freshly united nation from reopening racial tensions newly quelled, though the First Empire's account of history does not explicitly state such.

“You know, Leo,” you said, playing off of Yena’s earlier mention of such, “I know you enjoy the company of women. Unless the Arditi changed you in other ways, maybe you ought to follow my example of finding a fine one while you can. I’ve heard there’s a few in my unit.” After all, no unpaired woman who lived in New Sella Castella could be called a fine one without extremely skewed logic or a preference for being parted with one’s money.

“I’ll get to it,” he said in a tone without passion for or against the idea. Usually when Leo disapproved of something, he made it quite clear. He wasn’t the type for vague implications, and you doubted that was something he picked up. Was something up? “There’s plenty more to worry about for a while, Bonetto. When this war ends we’ll still be young.”

Yena frowned. “I have heard that war makes all men old.”

“Maybe,” Leo said, “But I can endure. I’ve got a feeling that I’ve got to. I don’t want to call myself invincible, but sometimes, when I make it back without more than a scratch, or when I see something just in the nick of time that saves me or somebody else, I think- Why? Why does this keep happening? What I think is,” Leo pointed his finger down into the table, “I’m not focused on this war, or how my life could end, or anything like that. I think about what has to happen in the future. What I need to do after this. I think that keeps me going. I think that’s what keeps me sharp, what keeps me alive. Maybe it’s delusional, but as long as I have a purpose deep down in my heart, I feel like I can make it to the end of all this. I think you feel the same way, don’t you Bonetto?”

“…I do have doubts from time to time,” you confessed, “I don’t intend to get killed, but I know I’m not invincible. The others have shown how mortal a Young Futurist is in spite of everything.”

“If it gives us the edge to just barely make it out,” Leo said, “Then it’s all the more important, isn’t it? That the rest of us make it over the side for the sake of those who couldn’t.”

Yena kept her eyes half lidded. “I don’t see how this precludes fair companionship.”

“I don’t need to distract myself pursuing that,” Leo said, motioning to a wandering boy with a pitcher and putting coins on the table, “It can come later.”

“An assertive woman who doesn’t require him to think about it,” you said to Yena.

“Hey Bonetto,” Leo said sternly, “We’re changing the subject, alright?”

Oddly sensitive. Usually, he joked readily about that kind of thing. “Fine then,” you relented, “Yena? Could you go over to that stall there that has the egg on it? I want to know if they have Fili d’Uovo. If they have this kind of coffee here then surely they have spare sugar.”

Yena hesitated- but not because of the food choice. You knew she was fond of it. “Is it safe?”

“I’ll have my eye on you the whole time, dear,” you said, “It’ll be hard to keep them off of you.”

Yena grinned at you. “Then I can fear nothing, can I? Save for when you decide to pounce upon me…” She got up and stroke over- peeking a glance at you. Not that you had to lie about the fact that she caught the eye when she walked away.

“This ain’t about the egg threads, is it,” Leo immediately deducted.

“No,” you said, “He’s back around. You know how my company commander died and a replacement was on the way? Turns out it’s somebody we both know. One Eye Julio.”

“Keh,” Leo scowled, “He’d best know better than to try what he was up to last time. People can disappear easy once they’re a step out of Sella Castella.”

“We’re not going back on not killing him, Leo,” you said.

“I know,” he crossed his arms and leaned back, “But he only has the privilege of walking so long as he knows that he’s on thin ice for life.”

“I agree,” you said, “But I just wanted to let you know so we could be careful. We won’t know how vengeful he might be, or if he’s learned his lesson.”

“Yena won’t see him, right?” Leo asked, looking around as though the infamous scion might step out from any alley.

“I’ve made sure,” you said, “He wears himself out on whores in between his socializing, I’ve heard, so there are places he simply doesn’t go. Yena will only be here for today anyways.” Speaking of, she was returning- with a trio of small paper cups on a wooden plate. “Oh, Yena,” you said as she set them on the table, “You didn’t have to buy those, they probably scammed you.”

“It’s your birthday, Palmiro,” Yena said as she went behind you and nibbled on your ear, “Besides, Nief’yem have passed down stories on how to deal with Vyemani.”

“That vendor doesn’t look like a Vyemani,” Leo said.

“You do not need to bear the smell of a Vyemani to have the heart of one,” Yena sniffed, “What were you talking about?”

The response was a white lie. “About Chiara and her driver, Marcella,” you said, “How they’ve been doing. Leo is not back here as often as I, and you only know through writing.”

“Ah,” Yena ringed the table and sat again, “It is true that I haven’t seen them. They’re healthy now though, yes?”

“Quite,” you said, “The water they fell in is horrific to describe, let alone be immersed in and near drown in. The purging procedures of her family’s attendants are very thorough, though. I wouldn’t want to be subjected to them, but they avoided gangrene and dysentery. They were out of sorts for but a week and a half.”

“They avoided the details on that,” Yena said.

“You’ll lose nothing by not knowing.”

Leo was silent on the subject. Withdrawn.

“How about you, Leo?” you asked, pulling him back into the conversation, “Hopefully better if you’re being made to fetch coffee beans rather than blown down tunnels.”

“The duties and their details ain’t good talk for when Yena’s here,” Leo said, “But we’ve been doing better than usual. The Reich’s off balance. I think they expected that tank attack to do as good as our first did on them. It didn’t, suffice it to say. Not much ground gained, but the work’s been a lot easier.”

“Does that mean the war will be over sooner?” Yena asked.

“Hardly,” Leo didn’t do as had done to the egg threads that he slurped down in between sentences, “Even if we take back the entire Auratus region, drive them out of what they call the Gepte, we have to hold it, and there’s the operations to the north too. The Reich haven’t seemed too demoralized where we are. Can’t help but wonder if it’s because the people who live in this region don’t want to be out of the Grossreich near as much as the Emreans do. And compared to the fighting up in Emre, well, this isn’t much, I’m sure. It’ll take more than this to finish things.”

“What about the battles in the ocean?” Yena asked hopefully, “Those have always gone well for Vitelia.”

“Can’t say I know,” Leo said, “Do you, Bonetto?”

“The Royal Navy’s seized islands and protected our waters,” you said, “But the Reichsmarine’s been avoiding battle. They send fast ships and submarines after the merchant shipping, and hold their navy back to try and catch us in a battle we can’t win. I don’t know how well it’s working, just that their tactics have changed to prevent any further decisive losses.”
News from Emre was sparse, but word had it that a huge offensive had gone underway up north- by the Reich. Whether there was little word because it was unknown how it was going or because it was going poorly couldn’t be known. Only that two months had gone by without rumor of it ending, so the presumption was that the northerners held.

Yena wasn’t particularly heartened- Leo brought up something that might restore her mood.

“If she’s having a baby, then you’re getting married soon, right?” he asked.

“It does not have to be soon,” Yena said, “A child must have been conceived for there to be a bonding at all. A marriage must be planted and grown, and one without children is a mere union of convenience and affection.”

“Alright,” Leo said, “You marry by going to the top of a mountain, though? Since I’m coming with you on it, as a witness, I’d like to know what else there is.”

“Not much,” you said, “The bride and groom and their witness climb to the top of the mountain and the oaths are exchanged after a purifying ritual in a spring or a cavern, or something similar. If they have any children, they take them too. Yena says that women too heavily pregnant to make the climb usually wait to give birth first and for the baby to mature to have the strength for the journey not to be dangerous.”

“Alright,” Leo said, “Are you sure your folks will appreciate that? I think they’d expect something more…traditionally Vitelian. Hill Vitelian that is. No boats or swimming.”

“I doubt they or I will mind,” you said.

“I want to meet your family,” Yena said, “Our families will be linked through us, and your father and mother will want to meet their grandchildren, will they not?”

Hmm…Why not have two marriages? Spoke an odd thought, but that would not do. Such a ceremony was frowned upon to repeat.

>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.
>Other?
Also, since she’ll have to go at sundown, for your evening date-
>Go to a tavern here for supper, and rent out a room for yourself and Yena to…attend to more private business. It wasn’t like she could get more pregnant anyways.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…
>Other?
Also, of course, any lingering conversation can be taken care of before.

>>5775904
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.

I don't think Yena's dad will mind much if it's just a ceremony, considering Bonetto basically saved his daughter from being a social outcast.

>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

Cheaper than renting a room, she should save the money so she feeds herself and the baby better.

How long of the war left do we have? 1910 was the final year of the conflict right?

>>5775910
*not that we have to go back, but be nice to keep the option open.

>>5775904
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.
Yena's approval is more important in this matter
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5775904
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.

Happy wife, happy life, Bonetto. Better get used to this.


>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

Reinhold nuts in tanks, guess their kink is forests.

>>5775904
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5775946
Wtf, I copied the wrong option. I wanted to vote for
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.

>>5775904
>>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.
>Go to a tavern here for supper, and rent out a room for yourself and Yena to…attend to more private business. It wasn’t like she could get more pregnant anyways.

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.

Happy wife, happy life

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
Fuck 'em. As far as I'm concerned, Yena is going to be the totality of our family going forward.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…
Do you feel it? Oh, yeah. It's pantsu commander time.

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
Why would we care about what our family thinks here? We've never been close to them, and they haven't even tried to maintain contact. Better to do well by Yena, even if we did have a cordial relationship.

>Go to a tavern here for supper, and rent out a room for yourself and Yena to…attend to more private business. It wasn’t like she could get more pregnant anyways.
Call me crazy but I don't want to get *too* private should Julio be skulking around.

>>5775904
>Have a traditional marriage. Maybe your family wouldn’t be happy about marrying one of the mountainfolk, but they’d be happier about it than learning you married in the mountainfolk fashion, if you intended to return home afterwards- besides, you could climb mountains with Yena without it being a ceremony.
>Go to a tavern here for supper, and rent out a room for yourself and Yena to…attend to more private business. It wasn’t like she could get more pregnant anyways.

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5775904
>Your family didn’t need to concern itself with who you married and how- so you’d marry as the mountainfolk did. It wasn’t as though you intended to go and live back in your hometown after this anyways, or do anything besides make an obligatory visit.
Also not trying to see that childhood friend again that was mentioned before. It would be too sad, if not for Bonetto for me personally.
>Find things to go out into the wild and make a dinner date out there. Besides not having to deal with other diners, you could benefit from the privacy as you had before…

>>5776180
I don't think Bonetto's hometown is going to have a fun time during the civil war, that's for sure.

>>5775910
>>5776033
>>5776043
>>5776053
>>5776100
The traditional approach, as your ancestors.

>>5776046
>>5776055
>>5776076
>>5776084
>>5776095
>>5776128
>>5776156
>>5776180
Heading on up the mountain.

>>5776053
>>5776095
>>5776100
Those who don't want to go to the trees.

Writing.

>>5776033
>Reinhold nuts in tanks
Hey that was only one time, and it wasn't into a tank.

>>5776053
And you for keeping out of the tree place.

>>5775910
>How long of the war left do we have? 1910 was the final year of the conflict right?
You don't know in character, but yes, November 5th of 1910 is the end of the war, or at least, the ceasefire. Vitelia's part ends earlier than that though, in the same year.

“We can meet with my family when the time is right,” you said, “I see no need to return. I would rather be married in the way of your people, Yena.”

“As long as we do go and meet them…” Yena said doubtfully. “It is poor fashion to only go amongst one side of a family.” She presumed that you would linger amongst hers- a fair one.

“Alright then. Sorry, Leo. Seems like you’re climbing rather than going to a faire.”

“There’s a faire?” Yena asked.

“They happen without marriages too.”

“I would like to see sooner rather than later,” Yena said.

A nod returned. “Of course. But they won’t be stopping any time soon.”

Some more small chatting was shared, when Leo checked the time- his watch was clearly a beaten and looted one. “Ah, damn,” he rose, hefting the sack of beans he had picked up, “I’ve got to go now or I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll see you around, Bonetto. And you, Yena. Hopefully the next we meet the war’ll be over and it’ll be time to jump up over a mountaintop.”

“Be safe until then, and give Cesare and the others my regards, if you see them.” Yena said with a wave and a smile- better that she not know how unlikely he was to be safe for long. As he left, Yena looked to you again. “Palmiro, can we go and see Chiara, since she is alright and…well, you’re not busy, so she probably isn’t, yes?”

“Likely not,” you said, downing the rest of your coffee. “Though she’s seemed a bit tense lately.”

“I just want to discuss some…” she put a finger to her lips, “Womanly things. You understand, don’t you?”

“I’ll stand away for some time,” you confirmed, “I’ll have you all to myself later anyways.”

-----

Yena was brought to your platoon officer- and you lingered outside, waiting, watching for anybody you wouldn’t want coming near to your fiancée. Whatever she and Di Scurostrada spoke of, you weren’t told, but she came out looking rather pleased about something, so it must have been productive.
“So, Palmiro,” she put her arm around yours as she walked beside you, “Where are we going now?”

“Out again,” you said, “I thought we might have a supper out there instead of overpaying for it in the slum over there. Besides, I’d rather you experience something unlike Donom Dei before you have to go back there.”

“Oh, I won’t be lingering there,” Yena said, “I told Chiara about it, and she’s having an attendant escort me to a more suitable place, she thinks, in her family’s lands. You won’t have to worry about me that way.”

“I’ll have to thank her for that favor,” you said, “We’ll stop by the battalion quartermaster’s and get what we might not forage.”

“Does the town not do that?” Yena asked.

“Not really,” you said, “The villages and towns here did, but they’ve scattered, been destroyed, or been removed for other bases. In other places I’ve heard that the land has been stripped clean, but here? Maybe the railroad fulfills so much demand that nobody thinks to go out into the woods like they used to. The better for us though. If money is not so easy for you to come by, then let’s save it however we can. I want you eating as much as you can,” you put your hand on Yena’s belly, “You eat for two, remember.”

“…I will try,” Yena’s eyes turned down, “I do not feel much appetite when you are far and in danger, Palmiro.”

All the more need to fill her to bursting while she was here.

-----

This time, when you went out into the afternoon with a pack over your shoulders carrying the foodstuffs and tools for dinner, as well as your carbine, you went out a different way than last time. Keeping the sights new was certain to fascinate Yena- and seeing how the land might have changed or healed would be good for you.

“Cesare and I tracked down a band of villains along these hills,” you told Yena as you stumbled over the slopes and brush, along rough trails likely not walked since then. “Dangerous and evil men, they’re all gone now.”

“A more noble kind of war than what is whispered about by some,” Yena said.

“Better here than in the trenches, yes,” you said, “But those men, they were the same ones who attacked our camp, took you prisoner. I don’t know whether it’s better that we fought against such people, or if it would be better for them to have never existed at all.”

“Evil will always exist, Palmiro,” Yena said sadly.

“Maybe. But if Utopia comes about, then perhaps as little as possible will be around any longer.”

“That the cold stings gave us clothing,” Yena said as you helped her over a fallen tree, “That we mourn those who die makes us love the living.”

Such was discussed in some Utopianist literature. “I agree,” you said, “But Utopia is not a place free from the world. It is of the world, not beyond it. Along the line of evolution the world is sure to go along, accelerated upon the onset of The Class.”

You rambled a bit on those theories- you knew Yena was little interested in Utopianism or Futurism, but realigning such within traditional values seemed to be something you were more willing to do than your fellows. That made Yena more amenable to listening and responding, it seemed. Though she was definitely not the sort to shift her beliefs about how the world worked readily- as the daughter of the village elder, she had often passed the time in study of her own people and their history, and their ways of life and why they did them. On your way to a suitably isolated picnic place, you had much back and forth about the merits of what was, and what ought to be.

“An old camp ground,” you pointed to a ring of stones. “One of ours. The Forlorn knew not to leave behind traces of their presence like this. Let’s stay here.”

A sheet was spread out, and the firepit rebuilt, a pot hung over it with a lashed tripod. Yena did most of this- you told her to hide if anything suspect came about, while you went out to look for something to kill and eat. The first thing you found was a blue-eyed grouse- but Yena liked ground birds for traits they displayed while alive rather than dead, so you waited for other prey. An unlucky rabbit’s head was later blown to pieces, and what was left seemed enough for two. You collected the remainder after, grabbing blackberries and golden shelves on the way back. Another clutch of mushrooms caught your attention, but you hesitated- the difference between parasol caps and dangerously hallucinogenic dusty tops was one too subtle for you to trust yourself with.

Upon your return, Yena studied what you had collected, and decided upon a searing of the meat, with a gravy made from the leavings on the pot with flour and water, the berries made into a jam with the most expensive thing to ration, sugar, to be had as dessert.

“I would live like this if I could,” Yena said as you both ate on shared pieces of your mess kit.

“I prefer modern conveniences like plumbing,” you said. “Water is heavy to carry back and forth.” As were other sanitary conveniences made more convenient by modern marvels, such as bathing…

“A compromise can be reached,” Yena said, brushing her braid of hair back over her shoulder. “Monte Nocca had such things without being so…suffocating as the heart of the city.”

You could agree with that- though it depended on what heart of what city, too. Lapizlazulli was a place as beauteous as it was huge, for example. Though parts of it admittedly made you long for the hills.

“The faires back at your home,” Yena asked, “What do you do at them?”

“Oh,” you looked up to the sky, “There’s contests. Animals raised for competition, vegetables and fruits raised to be big as possible. Sheep shearing, wood chopping, the sort of things that might be normal if it wasn’t done for a faire. Then there’s the music and dancing, and at the end of the night, there’s a feast for the children of the village with a special cake made with sweetened cheese and honey.”

“Only for the children?” Yena asked.

“When you reach your fourteenth year you can’t have it,” you said, “After they’re done, there’s a fire show, sometimes they get these great big rockets that go very high and blow up,” The commonality of such fireworks in cities shocked you, once upon a time.

“What about the dances?” Yena got to her feet, both of you done with your food at this point. “Do you know how to do them? Can you teach me?”

“Well,” you looked around, “It’s not meant to be done with just two people. You get together in bunches and pass around partners in one kind, and in another, you make a square with three other couples, and you go from square to square.”

“If the second kind has you keep your partner,” Yena said, offering her hand, “Let’s do that.”

You took her hand, then went off the cloth and stepped about the fire, turning round and moving in a set of straight, stiff paths, like you were part of a machine, though it was hard to do things right without another three pairs to keep in alignment with.

Yena noticed something that you didn’t, though. “You look wistful, Palmiro,” she said, “And you’ve much practice. Do you want to keep doing this?”

“Huh?” You touched your face- your expression had changed without you noticing. Part of you had recalled the motions- and who you had done them with. “No, it’s alright. It’s just that the only person I ever did this dance with before is…she’s not been a part of my life for some years now.”

Yena latched onto that, though you’d rather she didn’t. “Your first love?”

“I didn’t think it at the time,” you admitted, “I don’t think she did at the time either.”

“What was her name?” Yena pressed, sympathy wrote on her face, “What was she like?”

“Elena,” you shared, “She was rash, rude, and we pestered each other all the time. But we never danced with anybody else. Our first kiss was with each other. We grew up together, but I only knew how things were when I went off to university, and my family tried to get me to come back to marry her. I didn’t come back. So she was married off to somebody else.”

“I’m sorry,” Yena said quietly, pushing her head into your neck, “That must have hurt you terribly. But were it not for that pain, I would not have you here with me now…”

“It’s in the past,” you said as you held her to you, “I am a Futurist. I wouldn’t be much of one if I was weighted down forever by the chances I didn’t take.”

You continued the dance in quiet afterwards, until you both sat on the sheet again, taking in the forest, the warmth and sound of the fire, and Yena pushed herself into you- moved with the amorous intimacy of wanting to get to what words would not convey- and you obliged her, pulling her skirt off of her, reaching into her tights, and then once she was untidy, stripping them off of her legs along with the other underthings- then the rest of her clothes followed.

Yena was lifted from the ground, and you did not taint the poor sheet on the ground with what you were to do to her, moving to a tree to put your back against instead. Your green haired princess’s feet did not touch the ground until the legs bearing them uncurled from around your back, quivering, cooling sweat running down them like it ran down her face.

She was beautiful there, standing before you with her hair loose, panting yet smiling, completely naked. It was a shame that she chose to put her clothes back on so soon after, and run through the split hairs with a comb.

A deep kiss was shared before you were to pack everything up. “I can scarcely wait for the next time,” Yena said to you.

“Neither can I,” you said, feeling her up like you hadn’t finished making love. “Let the war do what it may. I consider myself the luckiest man in the world right now.”

-----

The last kiss goodbye was right before Yena got on the train- a supply one going back, so the only accommodations were in the caboose, but given that Di Scurostrada was sending a servant back with her, she would be fine. You stood on the platform until the train was out of sight- then went to bed early, wishing that she could have stayed overnight.

Maybe this was for the best, though.

The next day, though, a problem reared its ugly, or as it might refer to itself, charming head.

The Company Commander finally had business with you.

It wasn’t a surprise encounter- just a request that you could not ignore, for a meeting with the man outside the battalion’s quarters, where most had coffee in the morning. It was rather quiet now, save for the company commander and a pair of his goons. You wondered if you should have really come alone.
“Sottotenente Palmiro Bonaventura,” Julio Di Portaltramanto said, annunciating each letter in turn as he slowly saluted, “I had not expected to see you elevated to this position you are in. I’m pleased for you. Despite our differences, I can admit when a man’s position well reflects his worth.”

You gave a salute in return. “What do you want, Signore? Something with me and not any of the other members of Third Company?”

“Just saying hello to an old acquaintance. Isn’t that enough?” Julio stood with his hands behind his back, his eyepatch staring you down even as the other eye played at a modest glinting. “I half expected the whole lot of you to have fallen, but some of you were better than the others. We already knew that, didn’t we?”

“If there was nothing else, Capitano…”

“Do not be so impatient, Bonetto,” Julio smiled, “I wanted to make amends. I was quite harshly scolded, you know. By both your friend, by life afterwards, and by my own family. I am a changed man, and I want to express it so. Aren’t you a follower of Holy Judgment? Do you not forgive your wayward fellow when he bows his head in shame and asks for forgiveness?”

You saw no bowing of the head, but you stayed silent and waited for him to continue.

“The rest of the Young Futurists are up north, on the Gilician Front,” the slender, boyish man said, “I’ve heard that dear old Di Zucchampo’s intents are being crossed in favor of a blind demand for flesh. The Gilician Front is a hell of its own, Bonetto. I should know. I spent some time there, not amongst the worst of it, but close enough to know. Each day that passes, more of your friends might be caught in the callous net of officers who believe they need just one more body to attain victory. An ugly state of affairs, but it’s just the reality of the war. Or is it?” He extended a hand to you. “I can do you a favor, Bonetto. I can bring all our friends here. I can lean on my family’s influence, and trade less precious lives for those better.”

“Generous,” you said, “You understand that I am suspicious of it, considering.”

“I want to put the past behind us, dear Bonetto,” Julio put on a pleading tone, “All I ask is recognition in the future that I have done you and your friends a great favor. It is no small thing to do, after all. I am already willing to let all bygones between us be bygones now, as is necessary if I am to be your commanding officer. This is just something more for a beautiful friendship in a beautiful future…”

>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.
>Much as you might dislike having to owe this worm, he was right- your friends would be safer, and present, down here. Whatever was left of them.
>Inform the Signore Di Portaltramanto that you are not a Sella Castella whore, and if he wants something to fuck, he can fuck himself. There is no forgiving and forgetting here, he can count himself lucky he isn’t a corpse.
>Other?

>>5776759
>Inform the Signore Di Portaltramanto that you are not a Sella Castella whore, and if he wants something to fuck, he can fuck himself. There is no forgiving and forgetting here, he can count himself lucky he isn’t a corpse.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.
Imagine trusting this guy with anything.

>>5776759
He hasn’t forgiven us for gouging his eye out. I don’t forgive him for raping Yena. Simple as.

>Inform the Signore Di Portaltramanto that you are not a Sella Castella whore, and if he wants something to fuck, he can fuck himself. There is no forgiving and forgetting here, he can count himself lucky he isn’t a corpse.

>>5776759
>>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.
"Inform", while satisfying, will needlessly make him into an enemy. It's not impossible that he will be one should we decline anyways, but it's wiser to try to avoid if we can in my opinion. Honestly, I'd be ok with accepting his offer, owing him a favor is almost certainly worth the many lives of our friends, but I doubt that option will see much support.

>>5776759
>>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.

As much as we might want to see them safe I'm sure our friends wouldn't feel right about "less precious" lives being traded for their own.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.

>>5776759
>Inform the Signore Di Portaltramanto that you are not a Sella Castella whore, and if he wants something to fuck, he can fuck himself. There is no forgiving and forgetting here, he can count himself lucky he isn’t a corpse.
Julio can eat shit. He can go and die in a brewed up tank on the other side of the continent, for all I care.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.
As much as I want to say that we should make the deal (I mean there's nothing saying we need to keep our end of the bargain) that isn't going to win, so I'll go with this.

>>5776759
>Respectfully decline. You are willing to share duties with him in the Royal Vitelian Army. You have no desire owe any debt to him.
Fuck off Julio, you cunt

>>5776802
>>5776818
>>5776829
>>5776847
>>5777093
>>5777119
>>5777219
>>5777265
No thank you.

>>5776788
>>5776813
>>5777168
Fuck no and fuck you.

Writing.

At some point there was an objective to make a drawing for each update. I'll return to this at...some point.

>>5777322
If you ever do, can we have more mosshead wife drawings even when she's not here?

>>5777322
More tonk drawings?

The offer by itself may have been tempting. The man making it on the other hand, was not one you trusted to be so “friendly” about it. Coming from Di Portaltramanto, it was surely not an exchange made out of amiability, as far as you were concerned. Even if he was honest about every part of his offer and every bit of wanting to put everything behind, would the Young Futurists have accepted being traded for instead of merely moved? Surely not. The Dawn was not something pursued out of ego alone, but morality. To trade “less precious” lives away would be to defy the very idea of The Class.

On a personal level, you had no intention of ever forgiving him for what he did to Yena, even if he had paid for that sin, even if he did something to somehow cleanse himself in the eyes of the Judge.

No need to actually express any of that, though. For all you’d rather never see him again, Julio Di Portaltramanto was your superior officer now, and it benefited you to not make an enemy out of him, not when the Kaiser’s guns were aimed at both of you with equal enmity.

“I must decline, Signore Capitano Di Portaltramanto,” you said with your hands tight behind your back, “While we both serve Vitelia in this unit, I have no desire to make myself indebted as a result of any special treatment.”

Julio’s smile was frozen on his face, and he shook his head, shrugging. “So be it, Bonetto. It was just a friendly offer, but I won’t insist.” He motioned to one of his men, “Thulius, finish those requisitions and reports for me, will you? I feel like starting my day with blackflower. Oh, Bonetto,” he dug into his pocket, “Catch. A token of my respect for you.” He tossed something small, and you caught it reflexively. It was a little capsule made of two twisted paper cones, sealed in the middle with red wax and a foil tag hanging off of it, a stamp on the tag of a flower with spindly petals and a heart in the middle of it. “In case you feel the need to relieve any stress, any choice from the lowliest wench to the finest courtesan considers such payment for the duration of its potency. Have a good morning…”

As soon as he was gone, you recklessly burned the thing to a crisp and crushed the charcoal and ash of it into dust under your heel.

-----

Another day, another anticipation where the highlight of the day would be the morning brew. A piece of your C2’s engine noisily split apart while you were warming it up, and Luigi threw an absolute fit as you and him searched about inside the residual steam and smoke for what the hell broke. If you were lucky, it might be something that could be fixed temporarily with wrapped cloth and resin. If you weren’t, your tank was out of action as surely as it would be if a Reich shell smashed it apart. At least until a replacement part was ordered and made the journey up.

It was in the midst of this annoyance that, unexpectedly, Leo came to visit you.

“Bad time?” Leo asked as he looked over your shoulders, then peeked over Luigi’s.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, happy for a distraction. “Good morning, Leo. I thought you’d be put back in the trenches by now.”

Leo laughed nervously. “Not that I’m thankful I’m not, but nah, it’s a different sort of thing. I got an offer. Apparently some people way above where I’d think have heard of me.”

“Gee, big guy,” Luigi said as he bitterly searched about the engine with a lamp, “Did you fuck the wrong girl at a masquerade?”

“I sure hope not,” Leo murmured, “The only masquerade balls I attend these days are full of men. The masks would hide the ugliest witch’s face better than any darkness too.”

“You want a dark mask,” Leo said, “Come work under one of these heaps of fucking shit and it’ll turn your face blacker than a darky from across the ocean. Give me an hour here and I’ll be as dark a duck as your pop.”

“I see that plenty with mud instead of oil. The palest hill man turns into a Sea Vitelian in a couple days out on the front. Especially when it’s a sea of mud.” Leo clapped Luigi on the back. “Let me take your commander away for a moment.”

“Would you?” Luigi snapped.

The allowance was readily accepted, and you moved away fifteen paces.

“No time for coffee, Leo?” you asked.

“Depends,” Leo said, “I wanted your opinion on something. It’s important. See, I got an offer from high up like I said. From Generale Di Specchiolago.”

You couldn’t help but be taken aback. The Duca Di Specchiolago was the commander of the whole eastern army. “What would he want with you?”

“That’s what I said, Bonetto. I’ve been given an offer. An officer commission, and a training position. They want me to join up with this program for training Arditi. Off the front. I’m sure most people would take it without a second thought.”

You cocked your head towards Leo. “You wouldn’t? I did for what was offered to me.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t,” Leo said, putting a hand to his breast, “It’s that, somehow, I feel like it’s too far, somehow. Just leaving all my guys behind and climbing so far above them that I may as well never see them again. Leaving the front, probably for the rest of the war. All my comrades, you, the Arditi, and…” He rubbed the top of his head, “It doesn’t make me feel good to leave you for warmer seas when I know what I’m leaving people to deal with back here.”

“I understand,” you said. Leo spoke freely with you about the stresses of the frontline, the bloody missions, what both of you had seen. Neither of you had any need to hide anything.

“Just want your word on which way to go. If it’s better that I go where I’ll probably do more good, or…stay where I know I’ve done well by my people.” He paused- looked oddly down towards the barracks- you looked where he did. Di Scurostrada was up, yawning and going to the room where the coffee had been brewing since last night. “Hey, Bonetto? Along with that, do you mind if I bother you with some other crap?”

“You can bother me with anything. You know that.”

“It’s just that it’s something dumb to do with women,” Leo said, “I don’t want to involve you if you don’t want to deal with that sort of nonsense. Di Scurostrada’s your superior officer. I don’t want you risking getting on her bad side if you don’t want it.”

>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>You’d stay out of it. Women were a subject best figured out on one’s own by your measure. Besides, Leo wasn’t some shy boy who’d never known the touch of a lady, he could figure it out just fine.
>Other?
Also-
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.
>If you were in Leo’s position, you’d want to stay in the fighting. That was just how you saw things.
>Other?

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…

>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

Bonetto wouldn't begrudge him at all, it's what he did in the first place and look what it got him.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

I'm quite torn to send Leo away since he's a great moral and psychological touchstone but he may just be able to do well not only by us and the people here but also to the people there.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…

>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.
If Leo is worth ten men on the front, he'll be worth a thousand as a trainer

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.
I’m sure his comrades would understand, and be happy even. No reason to feel guilt, he’s done his fair share of fighting already, and this will only increase his impact anyways.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>If you were in Leo’s position, you’d want to stay in the fighting. That was just how you saw things.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…

>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…
>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.
I know it's OOC but I wish we could tell him to avoid women.

>>5777379
>Like you said. He could involve you with anything. You were best friends. You helped each other with anything you needed to. Especially if it involved Di Scurostrada…

>Advise Leo to take the promotion and appointment. It was the better for him- and the country.

File: pw3.jpg (203 KB, 1500x862)

203 KB JPG

>>5777384
>>5777387
>>5777392
>>5777396
>>5777397
>>5777404
>>5777441
>>5777443
>>5777484
>>5777655
Almost unanimous.

>>5777462
No, stay here.

>>5777641
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bD3luYcxfuo

Updating.

>>5777325
>>5777332
I will provide both.
One before the other though. This is the Reich "Light," otherwise known as the Panzerwagen-3, and the 3-Schutze. It wasn't quite up to the standard I wanted it when fighting them actually happened, and I had barely started on the heavy.
The PW-3 is the successor to the PW-2, which was the first fielded Reich tank of the war, and is outwardly similar with most differences being internal. The PW chassis was made in huge numbers and can still be found in various forms and roles and conversions even more than two decades after the war.

>>5777779
Is that a fixed superstructure, or a semi-rotatable turret?

“Bother me with it, Leo,” you said, “We’re best of friends, aren’t we? We help each other with anything we need. Especially if it’s a matter with Di Scurostrada. She is my commanding officer, after all. There’s more than feelings to account for.”

“Alright,” Leo still looked uncertain, “First, though…”

“I’m sure everybody will miss you,” you raised your arm to put your hand on his shoulder, “But everybody’ll be happy. Proud. You’ve done so much already, and if an Arditi is worth ten men, then one such as you is surely worth one thousand placed somewhere that he can effect the greatest amount of good.”

Leo looked pensive. “I can’t argue with that. Maybe the best way I can help my comrades is to make sure as many people coming up to reinforce them are as good as they can be. Thanks, Bonetto.” He returned a hand to your own shoulder, and you took them off, crossed them, and grasped one another’s palms. “I’ll go as far as I can. As far as it takes to help my comrades, my friends, my country.”

You smiled at one another with broad grins. “For the future and the Dawn,” you said. Your hands released each other’s. “…The other thing? The dumb thing to do with women.”

“While my spirits are riding high, huh,” Leo sighed, “So you know Di Scurostrada and her driver Marcella. Better than I do, probably.”

“I’ve known Marcella as long as Luigi, yes,” you said. She was a spunky hill girl with chestnut hair, hazel eyes full of energy, strong arms and a quick and deep mind for mechanical engineering. A fellow unlikely female in a special place in the army, she and Chiara were good friends. “The Lieutenant as well as you, honestly. You meet with both of us whenever you come around here, unless I’m somehow lost my senses.”

“You think?” Leo frowned, “Anyways. I helped them out in that big tank battle.”

“You saved their lives,” you corrected seriously.

Leo scowled to himself. “It was only what somebody should be expected to do.”

“That isn’t how anybody who saw it interpreted it.”

“Anyways,” Leo blew on by any debate, “Di Scurostrada comes around when she’s gotten better from whatever procedure they did to clear out infection. Words of gratitude, shaking of hands. What you expect from a noble. Long winded, but earnest. I told her it was nothing. Meanwhile Marcella Orologiaio comes around and asks if we can be alone because she wants to give a gift.”

“Uh huh,” you said, “I see where this is going.”

“I’ll spare you the details, Bonetto, I don’t ask what Yena does with you.” Leo said impatiently, “The ship sailed between the cliffs and left a necklace. I took it because I thought it’d be rude to refuse. It’s not my first voyage.”

You didn’t see the problem so far. “So what?”

“Then I learn Di Scurostrada set aside a special time slot for me at the sauna.” Leo said, “It’s been ages since I had a proper sweat, Bonetto. I couldn’t refuse. So I’m sitting in there, good and relaxed- and Di Scurostrada walks in. Strips down. I know what it’s about, and I tell her it’s not necessary. She tells me, yes, it is. I tell her I refuse. She climbs on and says she rejects my refusal.”

“Leo, that’s a serious accusation,” you said, your head swimming.

“It’s in confidence, isn’t it, Bonetto?” Leo looked pained, “She couldn’t rape me if she tried, you know how big she is compared to me. But when she’s so forward, I felt like it’d be an insult.” He turned and shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. “I feel like I let her do something stupid, when I think about it. Wonder if I should have insulted her rather than let her hurt herself like she did. A noble lady’s virginity’s not a good thing to steal.”

“Did you…”

“No, I gave her a tattoo,” Leo said. The metaphor for pale paint used by Sea Vitelians for temporary decoration. “I let her wear herself out and got it done another way. Dignity rather than details, Bonetto. Give me a break.”

You let it rest a moment to take it all in. “Is that it, then?”

“Nah,” Leo swallowed, “A couple days later, Marcella comes back around, and she just demands that we go into town and get a bed. That’s where I drew the line, and she got pissed off about it. You see the shit I’ve gotten myself into, Bonetto?” He shook his head in a small, regretful motion. “I shouldn’t have thought it was nothing. They’re expectin’ me to pick, I bet. And I wasn’t ready for that.” Silence. You didn’t know what to say, but Leo looked at you sideways, expecting an answer. “I don’t think Cesare would know what to say either,” Leo said with a harsh laugh, “I screwed up. I’m tempted to just let it lie and piss off like I’m going to now anyways. Let them hate me for being an ass.”

That wasn’t exactly an ending you liked the sound of. Chiara was a noblewoman- a political figure. According to the Kingdom of Vitelia, loving her and leaving her could be a terrible crime. Yet committing to her was also beyond the control of common men- she intended to be the heir to a substantial amount of land and wealth, and her family likely wouldn’t allow an impulsive burst of passion to decide her future. “Who do you like better?” you asked, “They’d have to respect that.”

“I don’t know, man,” Leo said with a frustrated rise in his voice, “I didn’t pull either of them out of that drowned tank because I wanted to fuck them. I’ve been too focused on other shit to even think about that. The other Arditi always wondered if I’m a eunuch because I don’t go into town and whip it out. I trust your word on this, Bonetto,” he stared you in the eyes, “I need a good shove. Give me one.”

>Chiara gave him her maidenhood. She was a fervent decider of her own destiny. Status and politics be damned, it was only right to satisfy her.
>Being logical, there was no way that Leo could lay claim to Chiara, regardless of what they felt. Di Scurostrada’s anger would cool eventually. He should commit to Marcella.
>Maybe he was right to disappear. Nobody knew about this. Nobody had to. Call it a foolish fling of youth and be done with it- and buy more time for something so important to consider, if he wanted to consider it any more at all.
>Other?

>>5778110
>Being logical, there was no way that Leo could lay claim to Chiara, regardless of what they felt. Di Scurostrada’s anger would cool eventually. He should commit to Marcella.

>>5778110
>Maybe he was right to disappear. Nobody knew about this. Nobody had to. Call it a foolish fling of youth and be done with it- and buy more time for something so important to consider, if he wanted to consider it any more at all.
Disregard women, acquire the Dawn.

>>5778110
>Other? (Maybe just, fucking talk to them both instead of letting them pressure you into a relationship? Open and honest communication is key and Leo isn't a beast that can be made to choose a companion based on which cunt he likes best nor some sort of ball in some sort of strange feminine competition. Sit them both down, ask them to be honest with their feelings and intentions are, and be honest with his own. If they both for whatever reason get mad at him for something as silly as trying to get to the bottom of this farce then that's just as good an outcome.)
Choosing one or another like this is silly.
But leaving them both hanging is also crude, even if it's not totally uncalled for.

>>5778110
>>5778116
+1, this whole thing is ridiculous. Though I am tempted to decide against Chiara just for her not caring at all about consent.

>>5778116
I'll support this.

>>5778110
>Maybe he was right to disappear. Nobody knew about this. Nobody had to. Call it a foolish fling of youth and be done with it- and buy more time for something so important to consider, if he wanted to consider it any more at all.

>>5778116
+1

>>5778110
Supporting >>5778116
Leo should also remember (and remind them) that they are a tank crew and any resentment or lack of trust between them can get them both killed.

>>5778109
Also that was at least dubious consent in that situation.

>>5778110
>>Maybe he was right to disappear. Nobody knew about this. Nobody had to. Call it a foolish fling of youth and be done with it- and buy more time for something so important to consider, if he wanted to consider it any more at all.
He doesn't owe them anything just like they didn't owe him anything. If he's not interested then that's the end of it.

>>5778110
>>Chiara gave him her maidenhood. She was a fervent decider of her own destiny. Status and politics be damned, it was only right to satisfy her.

>>5778110
>Other? (Maybe just, fucking talk to them both instead of letting them pressure you into a relationship? Open and honest communication is key and Leo isn't a beast that can be made to choose a companion based on which cunt he likes best nor some sort of ball in some sort of strange feminine competition. Sit them both down, ask them to be honest with their feelings and intentions are, and be honest with his own. If they both for whatever reason get mad at him for something as silly as trying to get to the bottom of this farce then that's just as good an outcome.)

>>5778116
Based anon, +1

>>5778116
+1

>>5778110
>>5778116
Support

>>5778112
One,

>>5778307
Or the other.

>>5778114
>>5778155
>>5778281
Neither.

>>5778116
>>5778118
>>5778131
>>5778173
>>5778270
>>5778382
>>5778404
>>5778471
>>5778480
Force a proper dialogue on this absurdity.

No update today, it'll be too busy.

>>5778072
>Is that a fixed superstructure, or a semi-rotatable turret?
The former, though the weaponry is small and free enough for there to be a great degree of rotation and elevation range.

>>5778482
>The former
I seem to recall Narr (rip) from the main quest driving around in some sort of a PW, but I could've sworn that it also had a turret. suptg is down, though, so I can't confirm.

Alright, off the road now. Update coming.

>>5778484
>I seem to recall Narr (rip) from the main quest driving around in some sort of a PW, but I could've sworn that it also had a turret.
Narr had a PW-5, or at least a modified version of one. The PW-5 variant does have a turret, (the PW-4 was the last model made in the war and has a turret as well) and as a post-war refit, other updated systems and kit. Though the vehicle that started off as the humble PW-2 was copied, iterated on, and rebuilt to different specifications by a number of users, even if it was near never as its original Emrean Liberation configuration.

>>5779430
From an in-universe pov, how important was the Vitelian intervention overall for Emrean victory, regardless of how terribly it went for the pastas? Would people lean towards 'essential for survival' or 'they likely still would've won, but even bloodier?'

“Leo,” you said, furrowing your brows, “I don’t think you need a good shove. I think you need to sit down with them and talk about it.”
“Bonetto, come on, they’re not-“

You reached up to Leo and slapped him lightly on the cheek twice. “Wake up, Leo, damn it,” you said in a tone growing as frustrated as his, “Are you some kind of animal that only understands sex? Are you a ball to get kicked around in some game of women’s tennis?”

“Of course not,” Leo had his pride, and he slapped your hand away. “I know what’s going on at least a bit, Bonetto, they’re not gonna sit down and write a goddamn treaty.”

“If you and them don’t figure out something that isn’t this silliness, then you might as well take your leave of both of them. You already know this isn’t going to work like they’ve been trying to, I know you can handle whatever the Kaiser throws at you, you can handle this. Sit down with them, and lay it all out on the table. Settle all this before you go, because if it just hangs up in the air and Chiara makes this a grudge with her driver,” you poked Leo in the chest with a finger, “Because they can’t decide which of them gets to ride the marlin, then my platoon commander and her driver both don’t have their focus where it should be. If for nothing else, then do it so they aren’t distracted fighting each other instead of the Imperials.”

Leo’s expression hardened, and he grit his teeth. “…Yeah, you’re right. This isn’t just on me or them. I’ll take care of it, Bonetto. I promise. No shit that comes down on your head’ll be because of me.”

You looked to the ground and breathed an exasperated sigh before putting your hands on Leo’s shoulders. “Thanks.” A look up, anticipating. “You don’t need me to arrange it, do you?”

“…Bonetto, please,” Leo squinted at you sidelong, “Di Scurostrada-“

“I think she’s fine with you calling her Chiara at this point.”

Leo didn’t respond to that part and continued. “Di Scurostrada can be plenty fierce, but she’s not a Reich tank or a Reich Stormtrooper, and Marcella’s most intimidating part is that her uniform doesn’t fit up top. I’ll be fine.”

“Great,” you nodded, “Good luck then.”

“If anything,” Leo said as he started to walk off, “I’m damn lucky.”

-----

Ten days went by.

Chiara had definitely in a constant state of irritation for a solid week after Leo departed. As had her driver. Neither wanted to talk about it- both claiming menstrual cramps- but they at least weren’t at each other’s throats like would be the worst-case scenario. Had Leo picked either? He didn’t say how events transpired, so you couldn’t say how you would have acted in whatever the situation had been.

Your platoon officer’s bad mood continued to smolder, but by now, she seemed to have recovered. Just in time, as your battalion rejoined combat operations once more.

This time, rather than piecemeal platoon or even individual tank operations, the battalion was split into its component companies along with assault troops, and withering artillery barrages that shook your teeth even waiting for them, let along what the Reich troops must have been going through. Bigger guns than ever before boomed from behind, and their impacts were so strong they seemed to echo back and forth over the flattened hills, fading as they whorled around the craters and whispered through trenches. The ground still foggy with the vapors of Phosgene and Bertholite, the battle you prosecuted was…simple. The men of the Reich fought as hard as they ever did, but casualties were light amongst the infantry with you. No tanks were lost from your company, though an entire platoon did get bogged down in mud. The Reich’s counterattack was expected, but as you prepared to draw the tanks back so they were not stricken by it- the expected shells never fell.

“Just you wait, country boy,” Luigi said as you both had gotten out to try and pull a C2 from the mud with a pair of others, “Something’s gonna make us regret doin’ so well.”

“Far as I’m concerned,” Marcella said as she hefted a hook and heavy rope forth from Chiara’s tank, “Isn’t this enough punishment? Havin’ to dredge these when the Reich could have shelled them and had us write them off? This mud was the worst thing here.”

“Yeah, the mud’s got me quaking in my boots,” Luigi said sarcastically, “Watch out, everybody, the woman’s afraid that a button’ll pop and it’ll never be found again.”

Command pulled you back once the tanks were unstuck- the next day, there was another attack like the first, with a similar result. Company Commander Julio Di Portaltramanto was very pleased. The rest of the company seemed confused- as battalion meetings had revealed every attack to have gone rather well, despite not being much bigger than probing operations.

The Reich’s defenses were being chewed to pieces, and while yes, the positions being attacked were the ones that had been exposed by the initial offensive operations and weren’t as strong as others, the Grossreich was usually very swift in reclaiming the initiative. Especially considering whenever they didn’t have more artillery than you, they were about equal. Yet your huge amounts of gunnery had not been answered with nearly in kind.

“I suspect a trap,” Chiara said over coffee and chess the next morning- the battalion, once more had been withdrawn. Today would not be a time of any rest- you were expected to repeat the miracle of having as few breakdowns as possible by servicing all of your vehicles to the highest degree.

“They’re sacrificing quite a bit just to set up a trap,” you said, trading a knight for one of Chiara’s, “It’s possible. But it seems too obvious.”

Your platoon commander did not make the move you expected, and instead contemplated the board. “If they’re now willing to sacrifice as much territory as needed to delay, then there is little loss,” Chiara said with a small sip of coffee and a pained cringe. There was no sugar and cream to be had. “May the Judge spare me from these wretched brews, is there coffee in this or nettles?”

“I suppose they could have built up an even bigger set of fortifications further back,” you theorized, gesturing to the board for Chiara to make a move. “But our aircraft have been getting far and not spotting them.”

“The Reich is no stranger to underground trickery.” Another sip of coffee and a wince- the game was temporarily forgotten“…Sottotenente Bonaventura. I would ask something.” You nodded absently. “Leone. Did he tell you why he departed?”

Did she expect something besides the truth? “Leo left because he was offered a position as a training officer. Better paying. Safer. An officer’s commission. He felt bad about taking that deal but I told him it was for the better. I think everybody agrees on that. Didn’t he tell you?”

Chiara stared pensively into her steaming coffee. “…That is what he said, yes.”

October 24th. Another attack, another success. This was deeper in- the line had advanced two kilometers, you had heard. A huge amount.

One of the prisoners who had surrendered was of captain rank- and he fessed up easily to on-the-spot interrogation. Apparently, the Grossreich was pulling resources out of the war with Vitelia in order to commit more up north against Emre. Spirits soared as this news was spread, though the skeptics still pondered. The only part of the Kaiser’s armies that seemed to be opposing you in force were the minefields, and the aircraft, that mercilessly hunted recon flights, though they couldn’t intercept them all, and regardless, you heard little of whether something of concern had been found by them.

The twenty sixth. Rumor began to circulate of hasty preparations for a full-blown broad front assault. Holes kept getting punched in the Imperial lines. Perhaps a grand assault might make them collapse completely? Another set of assaults supported by armor companies. Julio had gotten boastful and proud, which was enough to deepen your suspicions about whether these victories were a result of the Reich faltering or them luring you into a false sense of confidence. No casualties in the battalion had come from direct fire- just (doubled or tripled) mines, mechanical failures and terrain related troubles.

The twenty eighth. Here, the other shoe dropped. The battalion was out and away, when news came forward to surprise all with the rebirth of an old enemy. The Forlorn had returned- and while they hadn’t razed Sella Castella to the ground a second time, a series of highly coordinated, disconnected attacks had caused panic and confusion as rail lines were sabotaged, the new town was shelled with light guns, killing dozens, and several patrols utterly vanished, only discovered later chopped to pieces by attacks far too powerful to have been chance encounters by scouting parties. The barracks, town, and depots were mortared by hit and run barrages through the night.

This time there was nothing you could do, as the Special Weapons Battalion was both unsuited for and too important to waste hunting down the black coated bastards. It was unsettling news regardless. The trip back to Sella Castella for repairs this time would be a tense and wary one, and have even less rest and recreation.

November the first of 1909. There had been a delay with the planned offensive- and you knew of it because Captain Di Portaltramanto told the company of it.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the gathered officers in what had been anticipated to be a normal briefing for yet another easy operation, flanked by his goons as usual, “It should be hardly surprising to know the future involves a great effort on our parts. Unfortunately, something has occurred to prevent that. The Reich has sent their criminals to harass and pillage, and one of the things they managed to wreck were the train tracks coming up. They’ve been fixed, oh yes, but the next train up is a very important one. A fourth company of armor. Eighteen tanks of a new type pioneered by the best minds of mine own family, funded and provided for by the same. Such a thing would be a delicious target for these so-called Forlon.”

The fop cyclops clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “So, while I cannot order anybody to help me with this, Maggiore Di Marea has given me permission to ask for volunteers to escort the train. Our vehicles will do quite well on even the dirt and gravel roads by the train tracks, and these Reich terrorists would be of no match even if they were overcome by temptation. In return, I am willing to offer any volunteer command and crew of one of these magnificent new heavy breakthrough tanks when they arrive and are made ready. Armored to withstand the newest threats, armed as heavily as a whole platoon by itself…” He looked around the tent. “Well, don’t all swarm me at once. I intend to extend the offer to the other companies too, and I doubt Di Marea would be accepting of me taking the whole battalion out. Let alone the fact that there are not enough of such tanks for all…”

>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…
>The C2 tank was a friend at this point. You felt no need to replace it- but you felt a need to thwart the Forlorn since they blighted the land once again.
>You had no interest in helping this creep, and no interest endangering yourself for him either. Let him find another fool to be a mercenary for his vain cause.
>Other?

>>5779594
>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…

More tonk drawings?

>>5779594
>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…

>>5779594
>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…
We're not helping him, we're helping Vitelia. It'd be a terrible loss if the new tanks didn't make it to the frontlines in time.

>>5779594
>>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…
big tank good

>>5779594
>Helping Julio was only something you would begrudgingly do. Yet a new type of tank to command would sweeten the deal…

like >>5779619 says, it's more about helping the war effort than it is about helping Julio or even getting a new ride

>>5779594
>The C2 tank was a friend at this point. You felt no need to replace it- but you felt a need to thwart the Forlorn since they blighted the land once again.