pirated stuff

The peace after a war is often more critical than any battle or skirmish.

President Hoovy, for all his naivety, blessed the new states carved out of the corpse of the Empire with the right to national sovereignty and put a moral dilemma for the Francois and the Albish to handle. Magyarozag, the Czech-Slovak State, Daneland, Lothiern, Pullska, and the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia were all invited by the Francois to an alliance called "The Little Entente." Not all of them accepted immediately. Ironically, Lothiern and Daneland, despite being the closest to Francois, remained skeptical and chose neutrality.

No doubt it was to contain a potential resurgent Empire forming out of the nascent Germanian Republic. I can't blame their thinking.

There was one problem, however…

The Dacians seemed hellbent on building a new empire in the Balkans; first by seeking to conquer parts of, if not all of, Magyarozag. No sooner did the ink dry in the Treaty of Trianon did Dacia mobilize its forces once more; with ambitions in direct defiance to the victorious powers. Given how Dacia is also part of the Little Entente project, Parisee is in open debate on how to approach this matter. While those politicians talk, people are dying while Magyarozag barely has enough time to set up their defense forces, much less set up a new government.

The new government, right….

The Magyar Soviet Republic formed one as soon as the Bolsheviks got the opportunity...For a brief while, they did enjoy their new regime; just long enough to experience a coup by the Imperial Eighth Army. An event that would go down in history as the time when an army outlasted the nation it served.

Regardless, the best troops in the Magyar Republic have been organized into a militia led by Magyar veterans who fought in the Great War. Surplus Imperial artillery and firearms in their experienced hands would be more than enough to prevent the Dacians from rolling over Magyarozag completely. Yet, what the Dacians lack in quality, they sure make up for in numbers. Where they keep finding more bodies for the meat grinder, I do not want to know…

There was just one area in which the Magyar severely lacked: no mages. The Imperial Mage Corps are scattered across the continent following the "Trianofication" of the Empire. Now, each mage has to worry about where he shall live and whose country he pledges allegiance to.

A bad mage is better than no mage at all and Dacia still has plenty of bad mages despite the casualties I had inflicted upon them a few years prior. As for the Magyars, they had me and the Imperial Eighth Army. At least, what remains of it. While I could call upon Visha and my men, the common soldier simply took the peace at face value and went home to face the troubles there. All that's left in the Eighth are the warmongers and fanatic nationalists who still cling to the legacy of the Empire and the Kaiser.

Even though Germania was forbidden to have mages in its armed forces on top of a restricted military size and capacity, the Treaty of Trianon did not expand the same punitive measures to the new states. No doubt to earn goodwill from the people and leadership and to endure them to a Francois sphere.

Despite Magyarozag being far from the most pleasant place to live, -I would rather join the former Kaiser in exile in Lothiern - having multiple friendly nations to protect me from Allied prosecution was a boon.

I was promised Magyar citizenship and a haven in return for my service to the new republic. However, given how dual citizenship has not been codified, I declined the former.

So here I was, in Budapestera, before the doors of Sandor Palace, to meet with the new Prime Minister and the President. But I was not alone: standing to my right was Field Marshal Mackenheim, commander of the Eighth Army and a living embodiment of Imperial nostalgia. His appearance is formidable, a living symbol of authority and military prowess to men like him. Picture a man of robust stature, with a commanding posture that emanates strength and confidence. Mackenheim's countenance is etched with the marks of experience, the lines on his weathered face speaking volumes of battles won and challenges overcome. His piercing gaze, framed by sharp eyes, holds a depth of knowledge from a lifetime dedicated to the art of war.

As for his personality, one would perceive a disciplined and resolute man, unwavering in his convictions and principles. For all his mad lust for conflict, Mackenheim embodies the old-school values of honor, duty, and unwavering loyalty to his country. He carries himself with an air of authority, yet his demeanor is not devoid of warmth for those under his command. Despite his stern exterior, I heard that there's a paternal quality to his leadership, guiding and nurturing the soldiers entrusted to his care.

He is a man of tradition, believing in the importance of discipline and adherence to military protocols. His unwavering commitment to his cause might come across as unyielding to some, but beneath that steely exterior lies a strategist with a profound understanding of the complexities of warfare. His charisma and unwavering confidence command respect and allegiance from those who serve alongside him.

It was odd, standing in his presence on this particular morning, considering he was supposed to be under house arrest. I suppose that desperate times call for desperate measures. Sometimes, I hear artillery shells coming from the horizon, each day echoing louder and louder.

"Argent." he greeted with an aged smile as he tipped his head towards me. I was half expecting his hat to fall off.

"Hussar." I answered back. Eager to boast, are we?

"Why did you come here?"

"Why did you stay?"

Mackenheim laughed softly before turning his head back to face the door. "There's still a bit of fight inside me left. Magyar or Germanian, these people are still my countrymen and I am obligated to defend them against aggression. If the Francois won't help them, then it falls upon us to do it."

"Us?" If I were to be further ingrained with these rabid militarists, I'd never find myself living a peaceful life again. "You're mistaken, Field Marshal, I am a mercenary now."

"What mercenary fights for the losing side?"

"A mercenary that wants to maintain reputation and employment."

Before he could reply, the doors abruptly opened with an aide quickly escorting us inside. Immediately, I was taken aback by the disorganized conduct of the bureaucrats and military personnel: secretaries scurried like mice while men shouted at each other over missing inventories, quotas, and updates from the frontlines. The aide quickly apologized for the sight before leading us to the conference room.

Cigar smoke greeted me first before the Magyar High Command did. It was obvious that they had served in the Imperial Army given how quickly they saluted both me and Mackenheim. As for the civilian leadership…

"Where's the president?" I immediately asked, scrutinizing the room. "Where's the prime minister?"

Like children who lost their toys in the sand, the gathered men looked at each other, the corners of the room, and at the table before finally landing their eyes on the man sitting stoically in the center. He had a thin haircut with a round face and body; unlike the rest, he looked more like a lawyer than a warmonger. We locked eyes while Mackenheim searched for his seat. After a brief while, he backed down from my gaze, suddenly finding interest in a map of the Magyar-Dacian border.

"Are you the new leader of Magyarozag?"

"The new Prime Minister. Yes." He introduced himself to me more properly this time, "I am Gyula Gombos."

"Where's the President?"

"The regent is attending the frontlines to boost morale among the soldiers."

'Regent?"

"Yes, his Excellency is Miklos Horvath."

"I thought this was a republic."

"We became a kingdom."

"Where's your king?"

"Still searching for one."

"Gentlemen, and my lady," Mackenheim interrupted, "Let us focus on more dire matters."

"Right." the Prime Minister nodded before facing me, despite his new-found courage, he looked at me as if I was a lion ready to devour him. "We need your help. Badly. I know that our 'relationship' is strained after the collapse of the Empire - I want to secure Magyar independence, from Germania, from Dacia, from Rumelia…"

"Isn't the Francois Republic going to help? After all, you sided with Parisee over Berun."

"Some help! The last time I communicated with the Francois, they only assured me they would open negotiations with Dacia to offer a 'compromise' to preserve the alliance and maintain the peace. Compromise! I can't 'compromise' half my country away to the Dacians. If, by some miracle, the Francois has set up a conference, we need a decisive victory to tip the debate in our favor!"

"What a predicament. You traded an 'oppressive' master for a neglectful one." I tipped my head over to Mackenheim. "You have the Eighth Army. Use them."

"We need mobility and air superiority." One of the Magyar commanders stated, "The river Tisza is a double-edged sword - the Dacians are dug in on the other side as well. It would be the return of trench warfare. We only hold a couple cities that are across the river but they're subject to the brunt of the Dacian assault."

"In addition, most of my men are tired of war and want to return home. If it becomes a war of attrition, the remaining will surely die or desert." the Field Marshal spoke up. "Magyarozag called for aid and it was you, not the Francois, who arrived."

Just great.

"Name your price…" Gombos said dejectedly.

Being X, what kind of scheme is this?!

"I want lodgings, clothing, amenities, and a salary fitting for my rank and service for the duration of this war. Do you want me to protect Magyarozag from Dacia? Then make sure you protect me from the Francois and the Albish. They want my head on a silver platter and I expect you to give them an empty wooden bowl. Also, I need a computation orb."

Another restriction on Germania that does not affect a Francois "ally."

"I understand…and would it be possible if you could - not saying that your skills are insufficient - but if you could gather other mages interested in this conflict?"

"As long as you extend these terms to any volunteer as well, assuming they get here in time - now let's discuss strategy."

It was like the Great War never ended and the Dacian Campaign never occurred. The only difference is that I don't have the 203rd Aerial Battalion Wing at my side. As soon as word got out that I had sided with the Magyars, the Francois were quick to place another restriction on Germania preventing former mages from finding employment in Magyarozag; a policy which proved deeply unpopular for the new government in Berun to carry out. Smuggling in Germanian mages was out of the picture as the Magyars had used up all their political favours to keep me in the war. For that, I was to be their golden goose.

Of course, that didn't stop mages from Yugoslavia and the Czcho-Slovak State from coming here. Despite Dacian protest, the nations simply shrugged their shoulders and pointed to the freedom of movement between allied nations guaranteed in the Little Entente. Daneland, Lothiern, and Pullska were more vocal in their condemnation of Dacia; rumors even flew that Warsawa was contemplating leaving the Little Entente in protest.

And so formed Freikorps Degurechaff, as the Magyars and Mackenheim call it: a foreign volunteer force of 200 ariel mages of varying experience and training that will help preserve Magyarozag's independence and, hopefully, punish the Dacians for their transgressions. Although these volunteer mages aren't as good as Visha or Koenig, they will have to do.

At least the Prime Minister made good use of his promise and acquired us some standard Imperial computation orbs, as well as whatever surplus he could secure, though the remaining equipment was far from the high-quality hardware usually granted to the 203rd. While he was certainly happy that I took up the mantle, Gombos' mood reached the moon as he was downright ecstatic to have me as his attack dog.

Looking before the men standing at my attention, I could tell that at least basic training could be skipped. However, these were Serbs, Bosniaks, Carthinians, Croats, Slovaks, Czechs, Pules, and every other ethnic group that made up the former southern half of the Empire.

"First thing's first, can anyone here speak Germanian?"

"Ja!" they answered in unison.

"Can anyone here speak Germanian fluently?"

"Ja!"

"Nein!"

"Vielleicht!"

Good enough I suppose. I don't have the time to get translators and spare the effort to relay my commands in half a dozen different languages; the burdens of what was once a multiethnic military. At least the Empire was wise enough to invest in education and promote bilingualism to give their ethnic minorities some incentive to conform rather than the coercive assimilation of places like the former Russy Empire.

As High Command coalesced to discuss new battle plans, a great debate on how to approach a counteroffensive arose.

Lieutenant-General Elemer Gorondy-Novak proposed a multi-prong offensive using the cities of Tokaj, Tizafured, Szolnok, Szentes, and Szeged as launchpads to secure and get across the river. With multiple points of entry, he argued that the Dacians would not be able to concentrate all their forces on each area at the same time.

Field Marshal Mackenheim suggested a single but massive push straight to Debrecen. With Freikorps Degurecaff and the Eighth Army acting as the echelon of the "spear", it could poke a massive hole through the river defenses and allow the infantry and cavalry to spread through the interior. It was a bold plan but the concentration of our combined forces would give us local numerical and artillery superiority.

It could work, assuming that the Dacians do not have their rapid response forces like the 203rd. Assuming either plan works, the Carpathian Mountains remain a geographic obstacle and although Mackenheim had the most experience fighting and occupying Dacia, he did not have the 200,000 men he once led in the Great War.

There would be a pivot to the south to push north into Bachurest. If we could destroy the Dacian forces in the initial offensive, then both Parisee and Bachurest could be brought to the negotiation table. If not, then Budapestera is free to dictate its terms. I can only imagine blood and vengeance is on their minds. Already, Magyar nationalists seek to conquer Transylvania due to the large presence of Dacian Magyars living in the area.

If the Empire did not exist, the Balkans would've been a powder keg of strife. It's already fortunate enough that Yugoslavia didn't fall apart like the Empire nor did Rumelia seek to expand northward.

Given our shared cultural and military connection, I opted to endorse Mackenheim's strategy. The rest of the brass followed suit.

With everyone briefed, it was time for action. The Second platoon was to provide constant air support for Mackenheim's men, using their artillery spells to break up any concentration of units. The Third Platoon was to go further ahead to identify any secondary defensive lines the Dacians would have set up and locate weak points for the troops to exploit. The First Platoon, meanwhile, was to accompany me for a more direct mission.

Being X must have wanted me to win since the skies were clear and the sun was bright enough to give me the full visual of the battlefield for kilometers around. It was great for my company, bad for the Dacians, and worrying for me.

What is its plan now? A brief window of triumphant before casting me down into the earth like Icarus? No…Being X wouldn't.

Regardless, the Dacians endured a heavy artillery barrage by Mackenheim's howitzers to soften up the trenches and wooden bunkers surrounding Tiszafured. Using optical illusion spells, my Freikorps flew closer to the first set of designated objectives: machine gun nests and field guns. Without the pressure of heavy firepower, our ground units would have had an easier time forcing a breakthrough.

Already, I could see the Dacians bending under pressure from the onslaught. Machenheim's panzers made short work of the helpless infantry who were left with ruined anti-tank guns. Besides a bundle of grenades or a satchel charge, the Dacians had little to effectively fight back against the armored vehicles and were mowed down whenever they attempted to get close to one.

The trenches were quickly overrun by stormtrooper battalions using their flamethrowers and new SMGs to clear out the stragglers. Although it seems Dacia had brought their anti-mage guns, they failed to set them up properly in time before the guns were picked off one by one by the Third Platoon or by the infantry mortars.

We were moments away from a total Dacian rout, but my attention was focused elsewhere. Far in the distance, I spotted what appeared to be a command bunker using my observation spell. A simple target, really, as I raised my rifle once more and prayed to Being X for salvation. No matter what, the words were not evidence of devotion, only routine duty.

O'Heavenly Father, Creator and Master of all, save us from the fire and deliver your judgment on the wrathful.

One shot was all it took as it fell upon the Dacian commander like a hammer of God. The mushroom cloud on the horizon was a testament to a job well done. Yet, that poor soul was not the last on my hit list. There is an entire officer corps I need to wipe out before flying to Bachurest. Hopefully, by then, the Dacians would be smart enough to sue for peace before I have to raze their capital once more.

Soon enough, I noticed Dacian mages flying in my direction, seeking an engagement. Signalling to my platoon, we raised our rifles and prepared our spells. I do not know what material Dacia used to train their mage corps but it was sorely lacking. I won't even need to use my bayonet.

The rest of the Dacians though, I'll leave up to Machenheim and the Magyars.

Victory over Bachurest - The Kingdom of Magyarozag annexes Transylvania - The Little Entente Fractures

Oh dear. That was not supposed to happen. Peace was supposed to reign in Central Europe! Now, the Prime Minister and Regent have gobbled up a third of Dacia's lands in retaliation for enduring an invasion. This will only ensure that the Dacians will plot vengeance against the Magyars for generations to come.

Judging the report, the Magyars suffered nearly 18,000 casualties, including the Eighth Army, while the Dacians suffered 12,000 casualties and 60,000 captured. To add insult to injury, Dacia lost many of its field commanders and officers - I may have been a tad too zealous with my spells - leaving the country handicapped in leadership. Moreover, the Francois Republic had promised further aid to Bachurest, granting more weapons, money, and trainers to rebuild their military again.

Safe to say, Magyarozag was out of the Little Entente in all but in name. Not that the people in Budapestra here cared; for the four months of fighting, they spent four weeks celebrating to their hearts' content. I can't complain too much though. Machenheim and I were instant celebrities and were dragged along to every state dinner with members of the Magyar government - another series of medals pinned to our breasts- while the Prime Minister and the Regent nearly tripped over each other trying to get their portrait with either of us in it.

Despite all the joy, the Field Marshal chose to retire back to Germania; the Eighth Army demobilized for good. As for me, the public treated me with free lodging, free food and drinks, and free publicity. Everywhere I went, the Magyars spoke and sang praises to me in German. Even the ardent nationalists swallowed their pride whenever I shook their hands. It was certainly a strange experience.

In my past life, as the HR Manager, I had to endure all sorts of unpleasant behaviors from my peers. Even fire them. The center of everyone's scorn and derision.

But here, living in the shadow of the Empire's defeat, victory was everywhere. But if the people knew what would come in the future, would they still celebrate? What was stopping Dacia from returning with a vengeance?

As the only pessimist in this entire city, I simply drank my coffee in silence as I continued to read through the paper. Germania was facing economic hardship, the Francois Republic was losing face over the war, the Russy Federation was spreading the Revolution East, Albion was exploiting their colonies, and the Legadonia Entente Union was engaged in a border skirmish with Daneland.

What…?

The nationalist regime in Stockholm had pressed its claims on the Danish region of Scania?! It's like Illdoa - the Legadonians were pissed off for not gaining territorial concessions promised by Londinium and Parisee given how the Unified States were adamant on the "right of self-determination." Due to the reality that everyone owes loans to the US, Daneland kept their borders intact.

Until now it seems…

Suddenly, I was approached by a stranger dressed as a businessman approaching my table. Must be another Germanian wanting my autograph. Perhaps I should start charging fees.

However, it wasn't a journalist or a celebrity fan, no - it was much worse.

"Hello Argent, I'm Agnar Larsen and I'm sent here to deliver this message to you. Written directly from Prime Minister Thorgrim Stromming…Daneland needs you."

Being X, please go away.