pirated stuff

All things considered, this was a very uneventful battlefield. No fancy tricks, no deception, just a point-and-shoot mission as we flew over where the battle was taking place. I could almost feel the disappointment reeking off my Freikorps Platoon commanders; they wanted a return to the glory and exuberance of the Great War, to fight through mud and fire, only to find themselves at a carnival gallery.

"Save some for the Danes!" I remind Koenig. Already, it was four Legadonian infantry divisions attacking one Danish. Despite being heavily outnumbered, my Freikorps looked ready to shoot their way to Stockholm and plant the Danish flag there.

Though the Legadonian mages were better trained and better equipped compared to the Dacians, they were also predictable. They were so easy to eliminate that I felt as if each kill was degrading my ability to perform as a model soldier.

Once the two companies of Legadonian mages were routing or falling out of the sky in bloody pieces, we gained full air superiority over the battlefield, raining down hell upon the advancing Legadonians. The Danes themselves fought valorously, still remembering the last time an armed foreigner sought to take ownership of their soil.

To think the Legadonia Entente could've used this golden opportunity of peace to start over relations with its southern neighbors and engage in lucrative trade deals; their lack of foresight had wiped any sympathy I had left as I shot my rifle and blew up a heavy tank. The geyser of fire and smoke that erupted from the vehicle was the only warmth they would ever experience from me if they ever attempted this stupidity again.

It didn't take long until most major targets on the field had been eliminated. As we weren't allowed to go beyond Daneland's borders, I was tempted to take the Freikorps back to Malmo until I saw a field of dust in the distance. Looking through my binoculars, I spotted a large movement of infantry and armored vehicles approaching.

I calculated two divisions' worth of men and material gunning right for my position. And accompanying them were… a lot of mages.

A few battalions worth.

Upon facing the Argent, I suppose their natural response was to throw everything they had left in their Mage Corps to drive me off. No special ace hunters like during the war, they intended to drown me. Unimaginative, but one couldn't fault the effort.

Well, if the Legadonians desired blood and glory, it is only fitting that I give them all they want and more. They wanted to drown me? I would flood them in kind.

"Soldiers of the Freikorps!" I shouted over the comms. "I hope you are done finishing your appetisers! It's time for the main course!"

"Praise the Lord in his name…the King of Kings of the highest honor…" I whispered under my breath. "O'Heavenly Father, deliver your children from wrath and ruin."

It was a formidable mass: the Legadonian Entente Forces, so determined to meet their doom. I didn't intend this to be an easy conquest for Stockholm nor did Stockholm intend to grant me an easy victory. The horizon was dotted with mages, outnumbering us six-to-one. There had to be foreign volunteers among them - Francois or Albish, perhaps both, wearing Legadonian uniforms.

Normally, I would've called a retreat or performed a fighting withdrawal to superior defensive geography. But since Daneland had gambled on me to deliver them victory, I had to stay put; my credibility was on the line, after all. Fortunately for me, our ground forces still had AA and AM weaponry to disrupt enemy aerial mages out of their formation.

"Maintain formation." I barked the order, ignoring the apprehension tightening in my gut. "If anyone deserts or routs, I will shoot them myself!"

Activating a spell, I picked out my targets as I slowly had my Freikorps fall back near the firing range of allied guns below me. There was no attempt at evasive maneuvers; it seemed every Legadonian had their barrels trained on me. Fine. If I was to be their priority target, I might as well make myself a distraction.

After firing one last shot, the head of a mage that looked no older than 16 disappeared in a fine red mist, I shot upward into the atmosphere to get the sun behind my back with my unit in tow. It was a textbook tactic: blind the enemy in the eyes and he won't know what hits him next.

However, I overestimated the skill of my volunteers; not everyone was as adept as Visha, Koenig, Neumann, or Weiss. While my subordinates had no trouble keeping up, the rest fell behind. I watched as the enemy caught up and were then upon my men mid-ascent; while the Lothiern and Pullskan volunteers were still considerably more experienced than what the Legadonians had sent forth, ten guns in newbie hands were still ten guns that a mage had to dodge from ten different directions. The angle I had been leading them also meant that the enemy was able to strike while they were vulnerable, hitting them in their backs as they had been flying up towards the sun.

If there is one rule about war, it is order, counterorder, and disorder.

With a sigh, I took out my bayonet and charged back down.

A battle in the air is akin to two swarms of angry wasps desperately trying to sting each other. Sending my three platoon leaders to get their groups organized, I had Visha at my side to cover my rear as I hacked, slashed, and shot my way through the crowd of screaming bodies and zipping artillery shells.

The Danes on the ground had their hands full enduring another frontal armored assault, though the Danish artillery was invaluable in keeping the Legadonian ranks confused and disunited. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the Danish mage corps kept their discipline intact, saving my Freikorps from being completely overwhelmed.

I had to hand it to Stockholm. Though they neglected their mage training, they weren't slacking in adopting combined arms tactics. Their tanks and infantry worked masterfully in conjunction, supporting one another as they slowly but steadily pushed further and further forward.

If I don't settle this air engagement quickly, the Danish infantry would surely be overrun, their guns captured and turned against us, friendly fire be damned.

Six enemy mages had their bayonets out like mounted knights aiming to lance me through, as Visha and I led them through a merry-goose chase. Whatever educational material Stockholm used in their mages, self-preservation wasn't included - nor were any sophisticated melee tactics. With my subordinate using a decoy spell to lure two away, I baited the remaining four into a feint maneuver.

Four-to-one: favorable odds by my standards. I quickly dived down straight into the earth, agitating them with my rifle shots into continuing their pursuit. They replied with their own, but it would take more than blind firing to put a dent in my shielding.

I had the enemy mages right where I wanted them. After letting them think they were chasing me into the dirt, I immediately changed velocity and darted off in a different direction. They were left to face a battery of quad-mounted machine guns pointed directly at them.

While not enhanced by magic, several thousand bullets had a profound effect of stunning my pursuers and shredding through their defensive spells. This left them open to my counterattack; my magic blade rent open a recruit from his thigh up to his chin, the second was bifurcated on the waist down, the third had the mercy of a quick decapitation, while the fourth lost an arm and a leg from my furious slashes.

There was no time to savor my small victory. Wanting to regroup with Visha, I flew back into the mage brawl. It was difficult to see who was currently winning the engagement, but noticing a few Legadonian mages break off and retreat to safer grounds, I realized the opposition was beginning to waver. This was our chance to break them.

Casting defensive decoys, I needed to reestablish contact with my lieutenants.

"Team leaders! Report! Now!"

"Team one!" Weiss' voice was the first to respond, much to my relief. "Experiencing difficulty - ah, fuck - gathering my group."

"Team two!" Neumann said, "I have group members unaccounted for!"

"Team three…" Koenig answered, "I think I found Weiss' men, or what's left of them."

"Gather what you can and rally to my location. Where is Visha? Report in!"

I needed to know her status as well.

"Behind you!"

I immediately whipped around to bring up my weapon only to find Visha skewering a Legadonian sergeant at the end of her rifle with a smile on her face. She was perhaps the happiest person in Osby at the moment - the Rhine still lives within her. I wondered how many more times I would forget that she is the most insatiable of war maniacs hiding bloodlust under those soft, delicate features.

"We played with our food for too long. Let us clean our plates and skip to desserts."

"Yes ma'am!" She quickly saluted before turning around in an instant to shoot down another aerial mage, the man's bloody screaming violently ending as he barreled into a tree.

Now, it was imperative we put the enemy to rout to save the Danes. No doubt they had their own hell to endure.

"Freikorps Degurechaff, to me! To me!" I ordered the remains of my troop to gather by my side. "Form up behind me! We're spearing this Moose!"

A concentrated spiral of aerial mages formed behind me, like a colossal grey arrowhead, with me at its tip. I charged forward, the mass following closely like a monstrous swarm at my beck and call. The Legadonian mages, disparate and spread out from the sporadic dogfighting, were caught off guard as the refocused formation slammed into their lines, breaking through and scattering them. The camel's back finally broke as the remaining mages routed and fled.

"FORWARD, FOR DANELAND!" I heard a voice distantly shout out, followed by a thunderous war cry. "FOR VICTORY! FOR THE EMPIRE!"

I looked back to see the Danish Aerial Mage Corps joining us in our charge. Down below, the Legadonian ground forces wavered as they suddenly found their air cover dissipating and themselves very much exposed from above, while the Danes, emboldened, climbed out of their trenches and began their own spontaneous countercharge.

Of all the idiotic things to do! Abandoning a perfectly good defensive position contrary to strategic objectives just because the enemy looked a bit shaken! Once more human emotion had trumped rationality; now I had to work double time to prevent them from being encircled and overwhelmed by a numerically superior enemy!

"This job never gets any easier…" I sighed before turning to my platoon commanders, who looked absolutely giddy now. "Push them back to the border and only to the border, I don't want anyone getting fly happy and triggering an all-out war! Unleash fire and hell down below and up above! Let them regret ever leaving their winter cabins!"

There better be a bonus after this.

Despite the Legadonia Entente halting their assault and withdrawing from the outskirts of Osby, nobody had enough enthusiasm left to celebrate. The Danes simply dragged their feet back to the closest beer hall in Osby and drank to their hearts' content. If waking up with a massive hangover was a sign of victorious peace, I would still choose coffee and milk.

Still, casualties had to be counted and leftover equipment scavenged and repaired for future use. While I desired that this defeat would spell the end of Stockholm's ambitions completely, I'd rather not keep my hopes up. If an occupation won't change its mind, nothing will.

Once again, I was the center of everyone's attention. Even the Generalmajor of the 2nd Danish Infantry division came over to deliver his gratitude to the Freikorps, going as far as to invite me over to have dinner.

As tired as I was, it was a courtesy that I cleaned myself first to be more presentable. I didn't want to give him the impression that peace had reduced me to an uncouth gun-for-hire jumping at every opportunity to make quick cash. Fortunately for me, the gratitude the people had towards me was already paying off dividends: the local laundromat had given their best service in scrubbing the smell of gunpowder and smoke off my uniform.

I had contemplated removing the medals but, knowing this was not merely a casual dinner but a discussion to prepare for a second Legadonian incursion, it felt necessary to be kept on. It was important for them to know who I was, after all. Customer goodwill went a long way in brand recognition.

After ringing the doorbell to announce my presence, my mind drifted back to Visha and my band of volunteers sleeping soundly in their beds. I should've asked for a hotel during my stay but it was redundant now to receive better living quarters.

Once my errands here are settled, I'd return home and -

Home.

Where is my home? Was it still the orphanage…?

And why was Maxilliam von Ugar here?

What?

Maxilliam von Ugar was here!

"Sorry-sorry for the delay." My former classmate quickly apologized. He must have seen the shock on my face. "Come in - you're just in time."

Shaking myself out of my surprise, I quietly followed his path. The Generalmajor's quarters must have belonged to a relative of his; while not as extravagant as a Junker's estate, the paintings, velvet curtains, and luxury furniture indicated this belonged to someone definitely in the upper-middle class.

"You live here? In Daneland?" I pondered aloud as he led me to the dinner table. A dozen other Danish officers were present and immediately got up from their seats to salute me. Like the Magyars, the Danish uniforms were a direct copy and paste of the Empires', with only a slight adjustment in insignia to reflect Daneland.

"Here I thought Argent Silver's first question was asking how I got the rank of Generalmajor." Ugar chuckled, sharing a round of laughter with his men.

I sat across from him and I halted the servant from filling my glass with wine. I quickly asked for a cup of milk instead.

"Last time we met, you were at the rank of Lieutenant Colonel," I began. "What elevated your meteoric rise?"

"I would say the war. But really, it was after it." Ugar explained, "Most of the senior officer corps choose to live their lives in the Germanian Republic, leaving the former Imperial states in a leadership vacuum. Daneland was no exception. Since I was one of the few who could call Juteland their home, I was promoted rather quickly."

"Fascinating," I said, grabbing a knife and a fork to slice into my steak. I will never miss the days of Kriegbrot. "So your family resides in Juteland?"

"Yes. My spouse and children." The Generalmajor nodded. "Though my parents have retired in Yugoslavia, my sisters live in Lothiern, my youngest brother's wedding is scheduled to take place in Pullska, and my cousins are operating the family business in Germania. My parents-in-law are from Magyarozag; they spoke highly of you in the defence of their home. Truly, it is all a shame; I used to spend my vacations in Osterry."

"How… lovely. Does everyone here have the same conundrum?"

It was fascinating how many officers nodded their heads and began their rants against the Trianofication of the Empire. It was irksome enough to bring a passport to a place that, in many ways, felt like a second home, and it was downright criminal having to manage eight different currencies.

It is almost tragic, comical even, how a few lines on the map could tear apart families and uproot their legacy. Add bureaucracy into the mix and there was no hope to rekindle that connection. Why, during the days of the Empire, one train ticket could take you from Amstreldam to Sarajewo.

"It would've been nice if the Empire had won the war," one officer bitterly complained. "My favorite beer costs three times as much now thanks to tariffs. If only I could take the entire brewery with me to Daneland."

"Alas, an impossibility," I said aloud. "We couldn't fight the entire world, no nation can."

"If we had better weapons…" He tried to shoot back before getting interrupted by another.

'You're thinking too small, Markus. It's our fleet. If the admirals had sunk the Albish Royal Navy off the coastline when they had the chance instead of hiding in their hatches in Lubeck…"

"Nonsense! Don't blame our navy brothers. It was our spineless politicians at home that cost us everything."

Oh?

"Spineless? How curious." I perked up. "May I have the courtesy of knowing your name?"

"Colonel Frederick Christian von Schullberg," he answered dutifully.

"Can you enlighten me on what you mean by 'spineless?'"

With all eyes suddenly on him, the Colonel slightly squirmed in his seat.

"I mean - you would come to the same conclusion too, Argent Silver. You granted the Empire one victory after another and the politicians squandered all of that. We didn't have the peace we deserved."

"How intriguing. What pamphlet did you pull that denouement from?"

"It was Rudensdorf. One of the heroes of the Empire. He saw what was going on in the Home Front. In Berun."

He what?

"Rudensdorf and Zettour revealed that the Empire was stabbed in the back by the cowardly liberal and social democrat politicians who used the labour strikes and protests to overthrow the monarchy. Berun was a hotbed for a Bolshevik insurrection…"

I looked around the table. Their faces confirmed they heard the same story.

"It's the Judenvolk," Markus said as he stabbed a potato with a fork. Most of the officers grumbled in agreement. "The Judeans have betrayed the Fatherland."

Suddenly, this joyous affair has lost its rich appeal. Judenvolk? I suppose it's only natural for everyone to have a scapegoat in mind. Blaming the Dacians remained a favorite pastime for the Magyars. The Pullskans pointed to the Russy Federation as the Empire's bane. I figured that Daneland had a similar outlook on the Legadonian Entente.

For the Danes to look inward is a dangerous slippery slope. The Empire was a massive multiethnic nation; once the Germanians scapegoated one ethnic group, they would eventually scapegoat every ethnic group. This internalized aggression will only cause a loss in productivity and high standards of living. How could anyone live prosperously in an environment ruled by fear and hate?

"Excuse me for the moment." I got up from my seat. "I must…find the washroom."

"Wait, let me guide you," Ugar offered, but I politely declined.

Upon leaving the dining room, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation continuing without me.

"I'm surprised that Argent Silver has not heard of this."

"Of course, she hasn't! Everyone knows what she is capable of."

"The Judenvolk are smart: they know that if their betrayal was revealed to her, she would spend her entire life pursuing them."

"She is the perfect exterminator for such vermin…"

"She'll know what to do with traitors."

Locking myself in the washroom, I simply stared into the mirror.

Being X, what kind of den of vipers had you led me to?

Why was I surrounded by these men?

As much as I wanted to flee the scene, I also didn't want to cause any rumors. The Danish officers talked like hens in a coop and I rather not let Generalmajor von Ugar be led astray by talks of racial prejudice. It was very unprofessional to allow perverse ideas to dominate military doctrine.

After spending too much time staring in the mirror and washing my face, I made my way back to the dining area. Even though I was absent uncomfortably long for the host, he did not comment and maintained a welcoming demeanor. Thankfully, the conversation has moved away from conspiracy talk as the officers returned to more mundane topics.

I hated to cause a scene in the night of mild celebration but the seed of doubt must be removed from everyone's minds. The young officers needed to remember how everyone contributed to the war effort. How everyone made sacrifices in the Great War. How everyone starved for victory, only to find food in defeat.

"Colonel von Schullberg?" I tried my best to present a pretty face. "This betrayal… where can I read more into this subject?"

Looking pleasantly surprised, the blonde man rummaged through his pockets as if he was looking for his lost car keys only for the officer seated next to him to reach into his own suitcase and pull out a pamphlet.

"You can stop your searching, Colonel. I have my own to share."

"My thanks." I reached out to grab the piece of text. "Colonel…?"

"Karl," he answered with a slight burp. "Pardon me, Argent - I have not finished reading the newspaper but you can keep it for yourself. The newsstands are full of the same material."

'You remain unconvinced?" I inquired.

"Unlike Frederick here, I'm not so easily swayed."

A round of laughter erupted across the table, earning Karl a playful jab from Frederick.

Looking through this editorial, this was perhaps the first time I struggled between reading and comprehending. It seemed so unlike Rudensdorf and Zettour to engage in this level of demagoguery. Quite frankly, this was disconcerting.

Overall, I still ought to applaud them for crafting such a compelling narrative. It almost reminded me of some employees I had to fire during my old life as the HR manager: crafting sympathetic life stories to excuse their self-destructive tendencies to keep their company positions.

So deep in their own pity, their minds warped reality to feed into their own narratives. They were parasites to societies and corporations alike. However, I was above such petty delusions.

"What a fascinating outlook on life." I sat the paper down. "I only have one question to ask."

The men before me paused their conversations and looked at me with great anticipation.

"How many of you actually believe in this garbage?"

I couldn't believe I had to play schoolteacher to grown men on how to verify their sources. Only children would believe things at face value, and that's what these men were: children thinking it was hilarious to blame all their problems on a friend. I glared directly at Ugar; despite being my competitor back in Kaiserliche Kriegsakademie, I held him in high regard for his due diligence and sharp mind.

I didn't realize how much of a sore loser he really was.

I explained to them in terms simple enough to carve into their skulls with a bayonet. The 'Stab-in-the-Back" myth was just that. A myth. A gross oversimplification of a series of unfortunate events that saw the Empire pinned on all sides by rivaling Great Powers. No nation, however strong, could fight and conquer the entire world through military operations alone.

Politics was a fickle thing. One miscalculation and decades of goodwill were lost in a heartbeat. Friends weren't permanent and rivals were guaranteed. Although the Empire had allies and friends globally, they weren't strong nor influential compared to the Francois. When it was clear that the balance of power shifted away from the Empire, our "friends" jumped ship to join the winning side.

I wouldn't call it a betrayal. After all, this was just how the game of diplomacy works. People were only as loyal as long as they had money in their pockets or the food in their bellies.

Blaming internal dissent was understandable: to a warmonger, pacifism is heresy. Sure, when the Great War kicked off, everyone was in on the plan to defend the Fatherland from foreign invaders, but that was before they were trapped in an eight-year war of attrition. There was no reality where the war would be over by Christmas. Since the military-industrial complex was an insatiable beast, the civilian side was given the heaviest burden. High taxes, strict rations, and false promises - there was only so much propaganda a person could stomach when the reality was otherwise contrary.

"If there really was anyone to be blamed here," I concluded my lecture, "it is the Kaiser."

Now it was their turn to feel uncomfortable. The men, despite swearing an oath to defend their new republic, still idolized their precious monarchy. If I wanted them to listen, I better strike where it hurts.

"He abandoned his throne, his people, and his nation to the vultures and jackals. What kind of leader does that?"

It was hypocritical of me to spread slander against the royal dynasty but since Germania and most of the post-Imperial states are republics, I saw no harm done. After all, the former royalty was currently living a high life in Lothiern, unconcerned with matters beyond their own walls.

"Wasn't the Kaiser forced to abdicate?" asked Frederick.

"Forced to or wanted to?" I shot back. "I had sworn an oath to defend the Empire and its people, an oath I kept for eight years; what oath did the Kaiser swear to the Empire?

"He gave up the throne and left his crown in the gutter. A monarch that doesn't defend his people is no monarch at all. Only pretenders and tyrants have the audacity to claim rulership.

"This is a time for change and new leadership; a republic is the best avenue for the people's voices to be heard. Otherwise, we might as well be Parisee's new puppets."