pirated stuff

War. What is it good for? Securing a better peace.

I hope that was the reasoning in the minds of the men ruling Stockholm. But in Stromming's letter, as Larsen elaborated, the Legadonia Entente had not dropped their claims on Danish Skaneland: on the contrary, they had spent the entire time since the Treaty of Triano pestering and agitating for their demands against Kobenhavn. I must have been incredibly distracted by the war against Dacia for this crisis to have brewed right under my nose without my notice. Unlike Magyarozag, Daneland hadn't joined the Little Entente nor sought protection from the Albish, instead having adhered to a stance of neutrality.

While I applaud their commitment to keeping the fragile peace in the Baltic Sea for as long as possible, the military disparity between them and their northern neighbor had only invited further conflict. Legadonia was only showing restraint because Pullska and Lothiern had threatened to place sanctions against them, as well as embargo their commerce. Considering Lothiern had the busiest port in all of Europe and Pullska was their closest trading partner, Stockholm had been wise enough to heed their warnings.

As a result, the "war" that had erupted between the two northern states was more on the scale of a skirmish. Despite that, it was still a worrisome event in what was supposed to be an era of peace.

Why were the Legadonians under the impression that they still had a credible voice to justify their actions? The Empire had crippled their mage corps, routed their military, and occupied their country. Not a single Francois or Albish soldier had set foot on northern soil during the war to liberate them; it was only when the Germanians returned home after the war that they finally found freedom once more.

That said, despite my irritation with the situation, I apparently don't need to do anything too spectacular. The Danish Prime Minister intended to simply give the Legadonians "a good scare" with my presence to get them to withdraw their claims. No reparations, no treaty, just me patrolling Danish airspace long enough for the Legadonians to sulk back into their homes. It was a good plan, I will admit. Enough blood was spilled for one year and it was not even the first anniversary of Triano.

Meanwhile, I will get paid, the Prime Minister will shower me with honors, the Danish people will adore me, and I will take my leave whenever I wish to return to Germania. Frankly, I would rather not be a miracle soldier to another nation spawned from the Empire's corpse; hopefully, this will be the last conflict I get dragged into.

While it would have been quicker to travel through Germania, there was still the risk of the Francois placing yet another restriction to inhibit my travel before I reached Lubeck. With Larsen's recommendation, we took a train to Pullska instead to join the Danish embassy there before taking a flight to Kobenhavn.

However, I hadn't realized how quickly my fame had spread through Slovakia and Pullska.

Everywhere I went, military veterans would come to greet me. No matter their rank or file, Germanian or otherwise, each stop towards Warsawa was significantly delayed by servicemen as they proudly saluted me, requested autographs and, in the most exasperating of cases, insisted on taking photos with me, sometimes with their war buddies or families. As aggravating as it was, I couldn't let my reputation be soured so quickly by acting egregiously.

Yet, among them, in Radom, I encountered an esteemed fanboy: Pullskan Field Marshal Janick Siemens Pilsud, who had served alongside Rudensdorf and Mackenheim during the Great War. Considering the man's distinct mustache and strong head, I almost felt ashamed for not recognizing him upon arrival. He was at least relaxed enough to humor me and even recommended a few beer halls in Warsawa to try out.

Though on a more serious note, he wanted me to come back to Pullska once I was finished with the "Skaneland Affair" for some "business proposals". I promised nothing but some thought and consideration before bidding my farewell. Though, as usual, I couldn't leave without being part of several portraits of him and his family by the local press.

The capital was the worst. This felt like a ploy by the Legadonias to delay me, as my first sight upon arriving at the Central Station of Warsawa was a huge array of men, women, and children. Businessmen, priests, Great War veterans, you name it, they were there. Whether looking out the window, climbing on streetlights, or standing on top of trucks and cars, the Pules regarded me as if I were their founding father. Or mother in this case.

"I think we delayed long enough." Larsen commented, leading me to the embassy car, "You can always come back here to drink and dance later."

"Is this what I should expect once we're in Daneland?" I asked.

"Already forgotten, Lieutenant-Colonel von Degurechaff? We were once part of the Empire. Your first assignment was protecting our lands from the Legadonians." He looked surprised as if he had taken home a fraudulent imposter. "The world calls us Danes, but we're still Germanians at heart. I doubt anyone will forget your service in Norden."

Right, it's where I got my Silver Wings Assault Medal after almost dying in my first military assignment. Eight years feels so distant now considering how much has changed.

And how much remains the same. It seems I'm getting back to the basics: doing reconnaissance.

Prime Minister Stromming was a breath of fresh air compared to the other politicians I had endured in my life so far. He looked to be a figure of steadfast determination wrapped in a statesman's demeanor: a composed and dignified leader. Picture a balding, bespectacled man with a great beard and distinguished countenance; the lines etched on his face telling tales of both resilience and sagacity. His presence exudes a sense of quiet strength, standing tall with an air of confidence born from experience.

Conversing in small talk, I noticed how much of a 'realist' leader he is; undoubtedly empathetic, but life had taught him that kindness and mercy are luxuries guarded by a wall of cruelty. Given his position as a Social Democrat, it is obvious his governance, rooted in a deep understanding of the needs of the people, is driven by realpolitik. Though I was not here to be a new citizen, if I continue to stay, I could describe his leadership style to be measured and calculated, driven by a commitment to the nation's welfare. A man of true empathy. If only he had been the Chancellor of the Empire during the Great War.

How fortunate it was for Daneland to have Stromming as its leader. In this era of uncertainty, risking invasion from a regional power, a resilient mind might just be enough to see a return to peace. An attitude that we both seem to share, much to my relief.

For someone who denounces war, Stromming seems fascinated by it: or should I say, fascinated about me. Much of his questions revolved around my wartime service and the propaganda surrounding it. I knew that much of my performance had been mythologized by the public; but to Stromming, the hardest truth to swallow was that all of these achievements were accomplished back when I was but a pre-teen. The look of alarm and sorrow on his face was worth a million Reichsmarks.

"Let's…discuss something else." the elder statesman coughed, wanting dearly to change the subject.

"Indeed," I leaned back on my chair and sipped some coffee. "I think we should get back to more important matters."

He nodded before he poured himself some beer. Much like the Prime Minister, his office was tame yet carried an aura of quiet dignity. Simple yet opulent, decorated by artifacts and paintings celebrating Danish history - and Germanian brotherhood.

"Are the Danish Mage Corps subject under my command?"

Stromming shrugged somewhat haplessly. "I can recommend the military leadership to heed your counsel. But since you're merely a 'volunteer', I cannot give you full authorization."

"How many mages could Daneland call upon for its defense?"

"Enough to contest our own airspace with the aid of our anti-aircraft and anti-mage weaponry. Offensively? Neither I nor my commanders guarantee air dominance. The Legadonians have recovered swiftly since the occupation."

"Interesting. Would I at least be able to command my own unit?"

"As seen in Magyarozag? Certainly. I do not doubt your experience and leadership earned during the Great War. If there are volunteers, given your reputation, there should be no shortage."

"Just to clarify, I am not to fly across the border?"

"Heavens forbid!" Stromming almost paled at the question. "A war is the last thing we should be encouraging. Once Legadonia acknowledges your presence here, they will have to back down or experience another humiliation. They know exactly what you are capable of. You don't have to fire a single shot."

"As for the pay?"

"Whatever you were rewarded in Budapestra, I can guarantee the same treatment here in Kobenhavn, if not better. I will not haggle with the salary for your work. You are worth everything."

I am almost flattered by his professional ass-kissing. It almost ruined my first impression of him, but then again, I need to remember that he needs me more than I need him. A lesser mercenary would balk at the idea of being sent forth to intimidate a larger foe. But since I've already committed to being everyone's toy soldier for the time being, I just need to endure a little longer.

"Have you tried appealing to the Francois Republic?" I inquired.

"After how they treated our kin? Daneland is in a precarious situation, but not one in which I'd trust Francois aid. Besides, Legadonia had deep ties to Parisee during the Great War. No doubt they are already attempting to buy their support."

"As for Albion?"

"Nothing but empty promises. Like the Francois, they'd soon let Legadonia eat into our sovereignty if it meant preserving the peace."

"A policy of appeasement?"

"There's no other explanation. After eight years of war, the two great powers are simply done with more conflict."

I simply held my tongue. If only that was the mentality everyone shared.

"Let us get to work then." I smiled warmly.

Stromming's eyes didn't smile back when his mouth did. Somehow, I am the optimist here. A strange change of pace, to be sure, but there are other matters to attend to.

For now, Freikorps Degurechaff is back in business.

"If anyone asks, you are all from Pullska."

That was the first rule for former mages joining my volunteer force stationed in Skaneland. Given how Germania was right across the border, I expected an influx of unemployed mages to get back into the fray. What I didn't expect, which I ought to have, was to see my former company commanders: Weiss, Koenig, and Neumann.

And Visha.

These were the finest aerial mages I ever trained; I couldn't have asked for anyone finer. Nonetheless, I was surprised when they showed up; fabricated passports and all. Good thinking on their parts: I couldn't afford them being caught crossing the border and sparking an international incident, such a thing would serve only to distract the conflict brewing in Skaneland.

I, at the very least, admired them for their ingenuity and the need to be subtle.

Yet, it puzzles me why they postponed their civilian careers and jumped at the chance to serve at my command. All four had the support needed at home to cover tuition fees and living expenses to become magical specialists. Weiss was considering entering the field of medicine while Koenig and Neumann were applicants to become engineers. Visha looked too embarrassed to talk about her aspirations.

Once a war maniac, always a war maniac.

That's why they traveled north: to relive the experience of the Great War. At least their eagerness was something I was familiar with. No one in Central Europe had a soft spot for the Legadonia Entente; in their blind arrogance, they had blundered the entire continent into a war of senseless attrition, and what did they get out of it? Not even a seat in Triano.

"I should apologize if you were expecting some excitement here. But Prime Minister Stromming made it clear that we are here to be seen, not to disturb." I reminded them. "War is not the solution to this mess here. I already had my deserts in Dacia."

"I wish I was there." Weiss spoke up, a wide smile on his face.

Most of the men seemed to share the same wide smile and twinkling eyes whenever my exploits in Dacia were mentioned. It reminded me of the look children would give their fathers whenever they did something particularly heroic in their eyes, but I knew in this case it was simply nostalgia-driven envy and humor they felt rather than any sort of awe. After all, the 203rd had achieved far more spectacular feats during the war; by comparison, what'd happened in Dacia was an average Tuesday.

"Did the Danes store any Type 97s?" Neumann inquired.

"Unfortunately not, Kobenhavn could only procure us standard issue computation orbs. Still perfectly serviceable if mediocre by 203rd standards."

I had shared the same disappointment they must have felt when it was clear that Daneland could not and would not acquire the Type 97s or even the Type 95.

Still, it was time to get organized. Leading them to a former schoolhouse on the edges of Malmo, this place, for the time being, was to be my barracks and recruitment center. Though I didn't have all the mages from the 203rd, there were still plenty of Pules and Lothiernians I could call upon; a little over 210 mages under my command.

"Since we're not officially part of the Danish mage corps, shouldn't we have our own insignia?" Visha asked as I opened the door.

"You're not wrong, Visha. Usually, it's the Totenkopf paired up with crossed bones. But I have a meeting with the Prime Minister soon, perhaps you can come up with a design that is…more unique. I will adjust the command structure once I return."

I had no mind for making brand designs but a trusted and competent subordinate such as Visha would make the whole process an easy 'pick and choose.' I hadn't even considered the issue in the first place in Magyarozag since everyone in the Eighth Army had still been wearing their Imperial uniforms. It wouldn't matter in the long run regardless; this entire adventure was going to be a straightforward affair, after all.

If I could even call it an adventure. Thus far, it had been nothing but a whole week of patrolling. Stockholm's only response to my appearance had been a few letters of condemnation, and so the two armies were simply engaged in a staring contest in their pillboxes and trenches on the border. A phoney war in all but name, this was proving to be perhaps the easiest, and by far most peaceful, military mission I had ever undertaken in my career. It seemed as though Being X had finally thrown me a bone and given me a much-needed reprieve. If only he did it more often.

With everything quiet on the northern front, I activated my computation orb and flew toward the Danish capital. Per my recommendation, the Prime Minister should have already sought an audience with the Americans. If the Francois or the Albish wouldn't take a more assertive stance to secure the peace they had exacerbated a war for, it was up to the Unified States to take up the responsibility. It was the only great power with enough gravitas to curb Legadonian ambitions.

After all, the Americans are the ones so adamant about self-determination and national sovereignty. What was it that a former Francois president said?

God gave us 10 commandments. We don't need twenty-one.

Ah, American exceptionalism never gets old. Putting those thoughts aside for now, it wasn't long till I saw the City of Spires in the distance. I reduced my speed, the cold northern air whipping across my face as I began my descent.

"I will never not enjoy flying…" I muttered to myself as I landed in the courtyard of the Prime Minister's seat of government. Ingraining myself with the local security wing had helped me get past the first line of bureaucratic red tape, much to my convenience.

"How were the talks with the American ambassador?" I asked aloud upon seeing the elder statesman.

The deflation in his chest was all I needed to know.

"The Americans…are more content living on their side of the ocean," Stromming explained solemnly. "Other than promising a harshly worded letter to Stockholm, we…truly are alone in this matter. Since the Legadonia Entente showed no sign of withdrawal, I may be forced to open negotiations. If ceding the territory would guarantee a return to peace and security, so be it."

While I was not one to encourage war, I could not condone defeatism. Not after everything that had been sacrificed in the Great War. Such an action would cost him his career and, with it, his policies to build up Daneland into a stable and prosperous nation. Also, I certainly hated to see an old man cry in his own home.

"Contact Parisee. Ask about Danish membership in the Little Entente."

Maybe it wasn't too late to seek outside protection, even if it meant sharing a bed with the Francois Republic.

"Argent…I have exhausted all diplomatic channels with the Francois. They encouraged me to accept Stockholm's demands."

Not ideal.

"I'm sorry I've wasted your time here."

Oh great, now he's attempting to apologize to me.

"The ploy failed: they were not, and are still not, intimidated by your arrival. I will continue to deliberate with the rest of my cabinet. I will announce my decision by the end of this week. God willing, that will be the last thing I will need to do."

Stromming regarded me with kind, sorrowful eyes before dipping his head in a shallow bow and taking his leave. It will be a betrayal of the Danish people once Legadonia's borders shifted south.

So this is it then? This was the 'just' price minor powers had to pay to maintain peace in our time? Regardless, as long as I get my dues, I wouldn't get too bothered by a sudden shift in borders.

"Your Excellency," I called out, "What shall I do with Freikorps Degurechaff?"

"Seeing how the writing is on the wall, it is fruitless to continue employing your services here in Daneland. I'm sorry but your contract will have to be terminated early. You and your men are free to leave at your leisure."

Hold on. Freikorps Degurechaff is still new! Its members haven't even received their full pay yet. I suddenly dread having to deliver this news to Malmo. My subordinates from the 203rd are hungry war maniacs who were drawn to Skaneland at the promise of blood. They'll sooner ransack Kobenhavn like the Landsknects in Rome before they swallow their pride and go home empty-handed.

That's not even including what would happen to my brand! A mercenary leader that got her contract canceled in the first week? That's not a good first impression for any of my future employers or employees.

I can't let this be a complete loss of face.

"You should still refuse." I turned towards the man and looked him straight in the eyes. "A decade ago, we were a rising star. Our people were the beacon of knowledge and progress. A land of thinkers and poets. During the Great War, we fought like lions, through hell and back - do you remember those times, your Excellency?"

"Yes, I do." He looked back fondly at those memories. "What of it?"

"Since when did we decide to live like sheep? Is this to be the legacy of the Empire? Of us? We are not defeated because we lost one war; we are defeated when we give up and forfeit our ambitions to seek truth and order in an untamed chaotic world."

"I can see why your face is on every poster in every city. Do you truly believe this path is worth pursuing?" He chuckled softly, the light slowly returning to his eyes.

"If you want to know what peace and isolation have brought to Daneland, look out the window."

Outside of promises of material support and economic retaliation made by Lothiern and Pullska, Kobenhavn stood alone. I, together with the Freikorps, continued to stick around a little longer but the fact was that the Legadonians know all too well that they have a free hand over Skaneland. It wasn't long before an ultimatum was delivered.

And promptly rejected by Prime Minister Thorgrimm Stromming.

Now it was a game of chicken: Stockholm could either attack now and engage in an open war or withdraw completely to save face.

Quite frankly, after their blunders during the Great War, I would be surprised if the international community still gives the Legadonia Entente a molecule of respect. Even with the threat of sanctions from its neighbors, I doubt the nation would be discouraged from pursuing its conquest.

When it comes to strength, Daneland had the defender's advantage, experienced officers who were veterans of the Imperial army, and most importantly, Freikorps Degurechaff.

In comparison, Legadonia had a bigger navy, air force, and army. While each pilot or infantryman is inferior qualitatively compared to the Danes, quantity has a quality in its own right. In a war of attrition, it would be the Danes resorting to scraping the barrel first. With greater size meant more opportunities to attack, by achieving naval or air supremacy, the Legadonians could attack anywhere in Daneland. Even embarked on a naval assault directly in Kobenhavn if they wanted to.

Such an advantage means that my company and I would have to work overtime keeping the enemy's offensive in check. Which in turn requires the Danish brass to keep me updated as frequently as possible between each mission. The 2nd Infantry Division was assigned to guard the center of the region, although I have yet to meet its commanding officer, he reminded me of someone back at home.

So here I was, contemplating possibilities with a cup of coffee, looking down at the stahlhelm with a crudely painted Imperial Dragon on a yellow background. The mythical beast was the national animal of the Empire, second only to the wolf, to show the opulent wealth and strength of the new nation. With the help of a tailor, we bought proper yellow and black armbands and badges depicting the dragon to go along with the makeshift uniforms we wore.

With the shallow sound of thunder outside the windows on a clear cloudless day, we finally received an answer.

It was an artillery barrage.