pirated stuff

Cigars. Outside of the military, they were Kurt von Rudersdorf's greatest friends. Taking a long, heavy drag off of his cigar, he was deep in contemplation and regret. Peace was strange. After years of fighting for, and eventually leading the Empire, he was back to his estate in Hannover, having to retire for the second time. Still, the old commander felt proud that he had served his fatherland well; if only he were twenty years younger.

Maybe then he could have prevented his beloved country from being ripped asunder by the Treaty of Triano and the damnable Social Democrats.

Though he was far from the windows in his living room, he was not alone. Due to his reputation, one that he was currently crafting through a memoir, Rudensdorf's estate was surrounded by admirers filling the streets for hours on end. Inside the house, however, his company was small but familiar.

His old friend, Hans von Zettour, sat across from his position; the peace also made him a recent retiree. Given the role they both played in those eight years, it was a well-earned rest. Yet, the feeling of disappointment was as unshakeable as tobacco itself.

Erich Lergen was the only one present that got a promotion. While the old guard was cut loose, it was Lergen who got the honor of being selected to become the Secretary General of the Armed Forces. Rudensdorf would've brought out his finest spirits to celebrate this achievement for the young man if it weren't for the fact that the treaty limited the Reichswehr to a measly 100,000 soldiers.

But despite all the gloom, today's newspaper did bear at least one good report: the latest exploits of his favorite aerial mage and her band of misfits. If there was an entire chapter in his memoir dedicated to someone other than himself, it would be Tanya von Degurechaff. Only she could figure out how to light a candle in a dark tunnel for two old men to navigate through. Lergen, however, seemed to be the only one looking like someone had set fire to this seat.

"You look precarious, General." Zettour broke the silence, putting down his newspaper to look at the new commander. "I recommend not looking at the new map of Germania. It helps calm the mind for a minute or two."

"I was hoping that peace would finally give Tanya the chance to seek out a new career away from all the bloodshed," Lergan replied, not lifting his eyes from the paper. He simply flipped over to the next page and continued reading. "But it's clear she lives for battle."

"Ah, mercenary work." Zettour hummed, "The second oldest profession in the world, historians say. At least she is finding honor and dignity in protecting former Imperial states."

He looked over at Rudensdorf, who agreed with a shallow sigh.

"Better our mage to be called to action rather than the Francois."

This time, Lergen looked up, seemingly more perplexed yet worried at once.

"It won't be long until she returns home."

Home. Rudensdorf held his tongue as he leaned back into his seat. The longer he dwelt on that word, the more pity inhabited his belly. His champion didn't have a home. She was from an orphanage somewhere in Berun. Her parents were forever lost to obscurity. That girl was born in the strangest time in European history.

He felt compelled to look around the interior of his estate, to gaze upon the ancient and invaluable heirlooms of his family name, the exotic wine and spirits stacked on his shelves, and his private quarters having the comfiest beds in Germania. Here Rudensdorf was, old and bitter, thinking of bygone days surrounded by luxuries denied to the common man while Tanya took the new world with unflinching valor and strength.

Her home was Germania. Her family was its people, the three men were like her parents or uncles, and her brothers and sisters were the soldiers she served alongside. Thanks to the cowardly President Erbel and his stooges, Tanya had none of that.

How could he not have seen this sooner?

War was all that Tanya knew. War was the only thing holding her together. Without it, there was nothing.

Soon, pity was replaced with shame and Rudensdorf took another puff of his cigar. This time, he held the smoke until it burned in his lungs before releasing it. No wonder she became a mercenary: to chase after a life that was never kind to her. Yet if the Empire was victorious instead, he wondered, would she still be dissatisfied that the war ended?

Someone of her talent would be the perfect candidate for Lergen's position. Given her record, Tanya was the first pick to lead the Empire's military. However, given the traditionalist mindset in the army, there was a glass ceiling she still had to punch through.

With what he knew so far of Degurechaff, Rudensdorf had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't let a minor roadblock such as that get in the way of her career.

"When that occurs, it is only fitting we welcome her." he said aloud, breaking free from his thoughts.

"I'm afraid we're already beaten in that regard," Lergen remarked.

"Whatever do you mean?" Zettour looked confused.

The Secretary-General directed the two elders to the page he was currently reading for them to get the notice. It was a surprise to be sure and an unwelcome one too.

"According to insider sources, party leader of the Deutsche Demokratische Partei, Heimal Schlage, has extended an invitation to the war hero, Tanya von Degurechaff, to join his republican movement," Zettour repeated aloud. "If accepted, someone of her fame and notoriety could drastically change the political calculus in Berun in future elections."

The manner he said those words was too calm for something so extraordinary. Though Rudensdorf was a military man first and foremost, above such petty politics occurring in the Reichstag, he found himself at a loss for words. His emotions locked in a feud more violent than Arene or Verdun combined.

At first, Rudensdorf felt great pride for Tanya getting recognized by people other than himself, but also great disappointment that it was the DDP of all parties that approached her first. Personally, he would rather the Argent Silver join the Deutschnationale Volkspartei or, hell, even the Deutsche Volkspartei. But the liberals? They all but ruined the Empire with their schemes together with the Kozis.

That's what Schlage was: a schemer. Despite being a "humble" economist and banker, that penny-pinching, pencil-pushing, Weimar sophist recognized the boon Tanya would give to his liberal party. If Rudensdorf were a politician, he would already be unleashing more profane words at the man for coming up with such a brilliant strategy first.

"What could Schalge ever hope to promise to Tanya von Degurechaff?" he finally grumbled. It was rhetorical, of course, to anyone with a remote knowledge of the new republican system.

"The Presidency." Zettour smiled. "Herr Schalge is gonna make her President and himself the Chancellor."

Only Lergen went as pale as paper.

"Would she even accept?" he blurted out.

Again, Rudensdorf felt his mind torn in two directions. The Presidency was the most obvious position for Tanya to be placed in. Given her status as a war hero and a history of apoliticalism, she could just get the coalition government to work and make this whole transition a lot less painful for the remainder of the decade. With such a recognizable figure as head of state, Schlage could rely on her fame and public goodwill to pressure any of the other political parties into signing his reforms.

Given that the office was the greatest sign of honor to any recipient, though he still despised the Social Democrat currently sitting in it, Tanya would surely accept after nearly a decade of national service. It may just be what she needs to finally throw off the attachment to the battlefield.

On the other hand, the way the democratic system was structured, the President fulfilled the same role as a constitutional monarch, similar to that of the King of Albion. The only difference was it was office-elected rather than hereditary. A President was meant to use his office to ensure stability in government, and if that fails, dissolve the Reichstag and call for new elections. Only by emergency decree could the President be allowed greater authority. Rudensdorf quickly feared what situation Argent Silver would consider an emergency.

There was also the matter of personality.

"It is a tough question," Zettour replied, looking back at his old friend.

Knowing the value of letting subordinates discuss matters, Rudensdorf delayed commenting.

"I… do not believe that she would be content - even after accepting," Lergen said. "She was always a leader of action. Not one to deliberate too long."

"Perhaps she would approach him with a counteroffer," Zettour replied. "Make herself Chancellor while Schlage gets the Presidency. Tanya gets the joy of running the government to her heart's content and he would have someone who could implement his liberal agenda far better than he could have done."

Again, it was a smart plan if Schlage swallowed his pride and accepts. Due to how each passing day brought more uncertainty and more chaos on the streets, a firm hand to bring order would be the first thing on everyone's mind and Tanya had more than enough demonstrated her capacity to fill the vacuum. It was just that she would be doing it for the wrong party.

"Regardless, I believe we should all give her a warm welcome for a job well done." Rudensdorf stated, "How is Stockholm fairing in all of this?"

"The New Union Party's Council of 10…" Lergen mumbled, returning to the newspaper. "Has been… replaced - following the humiliating defeat in Osby."

Now that brought a smile to Zettour's and Rudensdorf's faces.

"Perhaps the Legadonians need to install revolving doors in their capital." Rudensdorf snickered under his cigar.

"Political violence in the streets…" Lergen continued, "bureaucratic infighting…a national strike planned…and open talks of a Bolshevik revolution."

"It seems our champion has given our former enemy the full Weimar experience." Zettour smiled as he lit another cigar, before catching up to where Lergan left off.

As amusing as it was, another communist state in Europe, especially to Germania's north, was a great security threat. Unlike the New Union's attempts at diplomacy, there was a higher chance that the Soviet Russ would fully back the ambitions of a Bolshevik Stockholm.

At least the Legadonians still had an army to put down an uprising. Assuming the army remains loyal to whatever successor government follows. The thrashing at Osby was not a moment that would be often overlooked in future history books.

"On second thought, let's serve her some chocolate cake as well." He smiled proudly.

Lergen looked up in an instant.

"Let's not indulge her! It does not change the fact that we still lost the Great War."

"Don't panic, but you're right," Zettour conceded, "We're the mentors she looked up her whole life. It is crucial for us to show restraint and modesty when we meet her again."

"But we can still grant her a cake. Just a small one."

Silence returned to the room as the three men brood over their next set of thoughts. Tanya at the helm of the Germanian Republic. It sounded like the perfect compromise from his contacts and friends in the military circles in the post-Imperial states, it also contradicted what they said about her.

Why settle for a republic when she still lives in the past?

"Schlage opened Pandora's box, didn't he?" Zettour began, "Now every party leader with his salt would court Tanya like a hopeless suitor wooing a socialite, or try to find another war hero equal to her publicity."

God, if President Erbel sunk his traitorous teeth in Tanya and corrupted her with his socialist nonsense, Rudensdorf might just crawl out of retirement with his hunting rifle in his hands. No amount of prison time would prevent him from protecting his favorite warrior from the Reds.

Lergen looked alarmed at those words.

"Relax, General," Zettour assured the young man, "I know it will be unusual seeing Tanya as your superior but she will defer to your knowledge as the senior."

"She would," Lergen protested, "but she would also shoot up all the deputies in the Reichstag."

"A sentiment shared by every patriot in Germania for signing the Treaty of Triano." Rudensdorf interjected, "She isn't completely bloodthirsty - I reckon a third only needs to be in front of the firing squad."

"Still, we are a year off from experiencing our first election as a Republic." Zettour said, "God only knows where Tanya would end up with which party."

This battle was a disaster. Though only 20 of my volunteers have perished, 150 were wounded at varying degrees. There weren't any lost limbs or organs but such a high count made Freikorps Degurechaff combat inoperable for the time being. By comparison, the 2nd Infantry Division suffered only a quarter casualties. It was a pyrrhic victory in every sense of the word.

If the Legadonians returned, it was safe to say we would have been thoroughly pushed back. Even though I could theoretically scrounge up additional volunteers from Germania or the other sister republics, Stromming would not have the political capital to continue resisting the onslaught. Only the Danish Straits prevented a complete overrun of Daneland.

That being said, at least peace was secured for now. I flew to Kobenhavn to receive my payment, perhaps to negotiate for a higher bonus in driving off a Legadonian offensive, and ask for a favor. It was surprising to see Stromming nearly bend over to kiss the ground where I landed. He didn't do that exactly but he did kiss my hand. It was certainly awkward for everyone involved.

An aide secretly told me that the Prime Minister had been sweating bullets as soon as he'd heard the news of the Battle of Osby. Apparently, he had locked himself in the nearest chapel praying for some kind of deliverance. My mind turned sour once I realized that Being X was extracting faith through extortion. A heavenly protection racket.

Regardless, I got my money and when I asked for a bonus, Stromming paid through the nose. I was even welcome to extend my stay here indefinitely. Considering what I had in mind, I wouldn't need to stay any longer than a couple of weeks.

First, I had to write a eulogy for my fallen soldiers. A series of letters dedicated to their families back at Lothiern and Pullska. Personally, I haven't ingrained myself with the volunteers as I liked, much less trained them to proper mage standards. Knowing that their relatives wanted nothing but good news, I embellished the words a bit; praising their service to Daneland, protecting their countrymen, and carrying the legacy of the Empire in their hearts.

The only thing I didn't exaggerate was their courage. I was obviously bluffing when I said I'd kill any deserters. No one wants to work for a boss that rewards personal failures with death.

Instead of paying for a courier - not that I was lacking funds - I simply gave it to the volunteers who were packing up their belongings and returning home. Since some of them were old friends to the fallen, I could count on them to deliver the letters directly to the next line of kin.

With that errand settled, I turned my attention to a greater concern: anti-Semitism. Truth be told, I wasn't totally blind to the sentiment spreading among the upper echelons of Germanian society like a virus before trickling down to the middle and lower classes. "Looking like a Judean'' was a popular insult among cadets during the academy years though such schoolyard insults were never spoken near my presence.

An empire split apart by external forces can always pull itself back together. But one where its people are divided and prejudiced against each other? Its death would be inevitable. Hatred breeds conflict as surely as an ocean creates storms.

I had hoped that the Great War would demonstrate empirical evidence disapproving of the existence of a Judean Cabal secretly controlling the world governments and orchestrating the whole conflict. Hundreds of thousands of Judeans had volunteered for the Imperial military, and I know that the Francois Republic and Russy Federation had deployed similar numbers of them. But ever since the Empire had lost the war, the conspiracy theorists had gained a monopoly on ideas explaining its defeat.

Which made this project with the Prime Minister extremely important.

"Argent," he began.

"Please, call me Tanya."

"Um, right. Tanya… I appreciate you for bringing this topic to my attention. I… understand that anger and despair dominate the minds of the men and women who sacrificed so much during the war…"

"Stromming, this is urgent. If we do not nip this cancer in the bud, we will never be able to purge it from the hearts and minds of the people we serve."

"You suggest I haven't done enough?! A Judean manager at a warehouse was hanged by a mob of fascists two days before you arrived. They accused him of being a Legadonian spy. I had tried to enforce the rule of law but the local judge proved sympathetic to their cause. Telling my constituents about the slanderous rhetoric of the Stab-in-the-Back myth was a straightforward affair but it was like speaking to the deaf."

"Have you tried talking with the other political parties?" I suggested.

"I already did! The Conservatives may speak of cultural tolerance but they are ethno-nationalists in their own homes. I'm a Social Democrat, for God's sake! But they call me a "Judean Bolshevik'' in their beer halls. If they didn't listen to me then, they surely won't listen to me now."

No, they wouldn't. Not when a country was polarized in such a manner.

"But they will listen to me." I declared, "These Danish idiots have nothing to hold against me. Not against everything I have accomplished."

The Prime Minister's eyes seemed to gleam at my words as his mind went to work immediately on how to best implement my proposal.

"After that…unfortunate display I witnessed while a guest in Osby, I have taken the liberty to draft my response to these claims of the treachery of betrayal," I stated, reaching into my suitcase and pulling out a stack of paper - my latest essay. "Send these to media outlets sympathetic to our cause. Remember that they publish it under my name and signature first before you come out with a public statement to add legitimacy to my words."

"As for the proponents of this "Stab-in-the-back" myth?" he asked.

It was a fair question. It wasn't enough to counter these false narratives through words alone. The slanderers and liars themselves must also be held accountable and see the error of their ways before they land themselves in a position they might regret. While it was a fool's hope to wipe away racism completely, it was necessary that such a fringe ideology never make its way to mainstream politics. It was bad for business and personal health, after all.

"I will talk to them."

"Tanya, if I may, knowing what you have done and still capable of doing, nothing is as simple as a talk."

Touche. He was right on that matter. This isn't a battle of logic and rationality. Quite the opposite. This is a war of emotions and faith. It's about what people believe and want to believe.

Since the Middle Ages, long before the Imperial Unification, the region of Germania was known internationally as the center of knowledge and ingenuity. Some of history's greatest philosophers, artists, generals, theologians, and statesmen were Germanian. For having so many accomplishments tied to their culture, it was obvious that nationalism would paint a distorted reality that the Empire was infallible and its people incorruptible. The reputation was impossible to maintain indefinitely.

Faced with defeat, Germanians sought answers that could somehow deflect blame away from their hubris and allow them to continue living their lives without addressing the fundamental issues of their society. At least in my original life, when the company experienced a year of low profits or generally poor performance, it resorted to purging the staff of "excess" employees. I knew full well then that if I didn't make myself valuable to the company, I would be the first one on the chopping block.

While firing low-productive workers could potentially harm the business, especially if they had a hidden talent that the CEOs have failed to recognize and exploit, blaming the customer base for not purchasing their services or products was a guaranteed way to kill the entire enterprise. In a democratic rule of law where every vote matters, such delusional thinking would prevent any meaningful progress and necessary change to a country living in post-war Europe.

"If they continue to be stubborn, I will personally drag them to the nearest war memorial and shove their face in a tombstone of a fallen Judean soldier," I delivered with a smile, prompting Stromming to adopt his own slow grin.

"If the time comes when you need my aid, I will help you in any and every way possible." He got up from his seat to kiss my hand again, albeit more gently. I was tempted to tell him to start helping by not doing that. "I will talk with my party and the coalition on this matter."

Good. It was crucial that everyone in the Social Democratic party as well as the Progressive Bloc be united in this stance. With this meeting concluded, I flew directly to the fascist newspapers publishing such filth thanks to a list of names and locations Stromming's secretary gave me.

Quite frankly, I didn't know what to expect from pig heads relying on sensationalist media to cultivate a following. Funny enough, what Stromming left out was that the fascist movement was divided between Pan-Germanian and pro-independence parties, though the latter had only a fraction of membership compared to the former.

Since the pro-independence group was too small, too emotional, and too intellectually pathetic in their ingratitude towards the Empire, I found myself at the base of operations of the National Workers and Farmers Party, a far-right and loudly anti-semitic Pan-Germanian political organization. They obtained enough capital to set up a printing press, a youth wing, and a paramilitary organization.

Upon my unannounced arrival, the Danish fascists were initially shocked before greeting me with open arms. Whether left or right, at least everyone was happy that Legadonia Entente Alliance was sent packing. With their infectious enthusiasm at an all-time high, they allowed me unrestricted access to their building. As violent and unhinged as their rhetoric was, at least they were organized.

Placing myself to give an impromptu lecture, I waited until the silence was deafening before unleashing a vicious deconstruction of their entire movement and identity. The look of disappointment, shame, confusion, and anger was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed drinking in their tears as they processed the words getting smacked into their faces.

Of course, their first reaction was the accusation that I was an imposter, an agent of Bolshevism, threatening blood and shouting racist and sexist slurs. In the face of their flaws exposed, fascists are always the first to devolve into raging imbeciles. They would have to swallow their pride except it was too big to swallow.

They would sooner choke before opening their eyes and minds to how reality really works.

Since I got their full attention now, it was time to switch gears and pivot to embrace their line of thinking. Sometimes, the most efficient method to dispel a conspiracy is to tell an even bigger conspiracy. Especially if the truth is disguised as one.

If I couldn't prevent their hatred from being directed inward, I might as well get the fascists to direct their rage and frustration outward. It may be the only way to have them welcome back the Judeans as Germanians at the dinner table.

"Seeing you all acting like animals in the face of Argent Silver, it is a small wonder President Mirande is laughing at us," I spat. "While you are all busy murdering Judeans, you have not noticed how Monsieur Mirande has slipped his hand into your pockets to steal your money and bread."

It was a lie, of course. Triano didn't apply to Daneland. But it caused the mob of fascists to shut up quickly.

"Our people are in a zoo cage for the Francois Republic to come and gawk at. Daneland has become another toy in Parisee's schemes."

"I figured the Prime Minister was a filthy Judean traitor!" one thug blurted out as if he was the only one who knew the truth.

"Traitor? That's what the Francois wants you to think. To act!"

With the crowd calming down and contemplating my words, I paced across the floor before slamming my first against the nearest wall for dramatic effect.

"How can everyone in this room be so BLIND? Blind to the fact that we have been dancing to the tune played by the Francois Republic? Do you think this was just a coincidence? Prime Minister Thorgimm Stromming knew this better than anyone in Daneland! Do you think he wanted the job to lead an independent Daneland? He is as Germanian as your mothers!

"That is why I am here! That is why he invited me to stay! To save the Empire before the Francois come in and corrupt what is left of its legacy. But upon reading about your actions, Monsieur Mirande realized he doesn't need to do anything because YOU, members of the National Workers and Farmers Party, are doing the job for him. YOU are destroying the foundations of the Empire. YOU are killing loyal citizens of the Empire. YOU are doing exactly what the Francois wants you to do!

"Judean traitors, my ass! Who was the one who wrote the Treaty of Triano? The Francois! Who was the one that broke up the Empire? The Francois! Who was the one that divided our people? THE FRANCOIS!"

Seeing the gears turning in their heads, I thought I had them on the right track - but I must make sure they remember my message and stick to it for years to come. Time to bring out a lesson in branding: a catchy slogan.

"GERMANIA FOR ALL! UNITED AND FREE! FOR VICTORY! FOR DANELAND!" I shouted.

"GERMANIA FOR ALL! UNITED AND FREE!" They roared back with the sound of thunderous applause. "SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL!"

Hopefully, that would get them to stop targeting Judeans and actually collaborate with them in building up Daneland into a productive nation. With my work here done, I left the building feeling exhausted. After I'm done flying back to Malmo, my first destination will be the closest bed.

"Spread the good message." I delivered my last statement to what seems to be the party leader, "If we keep focusing on rooting out internal enemies, we will never notice our external enemies gnawing at our borders."

The man silently nodded before fully extending his right arm out at an angle, palm down and fingers touching, as if he was pointing into the sun.

"Thank you, Argent Silver. I swear I will never be fooled by the Francois again!"

"Don't apologize to me," I replied. "Apologize to the Judean family whose husband and father you helped slay. He fought for the Empire, did you know that? And you killed him. Has the Francois convinced you to reward loyalty to the Fatherland with murder?"