pirated stuff

"Tanya! There's a letter for you! It's from Generalmajor von Ugar; he wants you to attend his brother's wedding as a guest of honor." Visha looked downright enthusiastic as she handed me an envelope made of the cleanest paper the moment I showed my face in the office. Sure enough, it was from my former classmate. I felt exhausted just by looking at the stamps.

After Osby, I would rather have stayed away from him and his ilk. Even though I had hoped my lecture would steer him away from the destructive rhetoric, I would still prefer a long-distance correspondence rather than anything resembling regular contact.

"By the way, what happened at Kassel? You came back earlier than expected. Even Elena was panicking about how fast you arrived." Visha inquired as I marched back to my desk, grabbed open the letter opener, and ripped apart the envelope.

"We're still working on Goering's request to break the Reds," I stated as I looked over the invitation. "Can you tell Elena to notify her cousin that I will still seek to aid him whenever possible?"

She immediately nodded her head before disappearing from the doorframe to alert our PR manager. Almost immediately, I felt my hand reach to my neck to scratch a ghost injury. That night was too close. Way too close for comfort.

It was very unbecoming of me to take aggressive action without approval from the Big Three, but time was working against us. Every day we delayed further action was another day for the communists to gain Kassel as another Bolshevik stronghold. I needed Schlage to see the reason.

Or… perhaps I was looking at the wrong head of the progressive hydra.

Despite the growing numbers of the Golds, the SPD's Reichsbanner Rot was still the largest paramilitary group in the coalition. If I could get President Erbel or Chancellor Herimann to understand the gravity of the situation in Hessen, we could put down a revolt before it even starts.

Looking back at the wedding invitation, the event was to take place two weeks from now in Warschau. Thinking hard, I tried to remember who led the country. The President of Pullska was Ignatsi Moscic, leader of the Pullska Socialist Party; itself an offshoot and close cousin of the Social Democratic Party in Germania. Chances were, Moscic would have been acquainted with Erbel and Herimann during the Imperial era.

If I could organize a meeting with Moscic and convince him to talk with Erbel, I could finally obtain the authorization needed to command the Reichsbanner Rot to remove communist influence in Hessen. Chances were, Moscic was just as anti-Bolshevik as I was. Any Pule that wasn't was mostly liked hanging off of streetlamps given how heavy the Russy Federation was breathing down upon the new republic's shoulders.

It was, admittedly, a shaky gambit, but a march into Westphalia and the Rhineland would require the entire Reichsbanner in force, I simply needed more leverage. Hopefully the support of the Pullskan president, and the evidence we could obtain in Hessen of a dangerous communist revolution in the making, would be enough to unleash the Republican loyalists.

Just then, Visha returned with another wide smile on her face. Dependable as always. How lucky I was to have a subordinate such as her.

"Visha, I'll be going away for a while now." I announced, "You'll be in charge during my absence here until I come back from Pullska."

"Really?!" She looked ready to jump towards the moon with that much energy in her feet. "You believe I am ready?"

"Of course you are ready. Did I surround myself with useless mages?"

The brunette quickly shook her head.

"What shall you have me do?"

"Keep to the current course: train up the Reichsbanner, continue the political campaign for our movement, and when the time comes for Muller to request additional manpower, do not hesitate," I instructed. "I know that our superiors are standing idle but once I return, we'll have the mandate to crush the Reds. The election is only coming up in a few months. We need to be on our best behavior for the public."

"Agreed." Visha nodded, before giving me the Roman salute. "For Germania!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Huh, what? This? I just…wanted…"

"Stop that. It's improper." I scolded her. Moisture began to glisten around Visha's wide eyes, something which made me almost flinch.

I really need to build immunity to her puppy eyes.

"Don't do that here. We don't do that here. We're working for the Republic. Not Rohr. Understand?"

"I understand." She quickly fled the scene to save face. "I'm sorry!"

I would feel embarrassed too if I pulled a similar stunt towards my political superiors. I know the DDP was right-wing but it's not that far right.

After notifying the rest of my subordinates about my departure to Warschau, I contacted Schlage to let him know that Visha would continue operations in my place. His reaction was rather congratulatory; I supposed it was because of the wedding. Even if it was from strangers I barely knew, getting invited was always a great honor. I suppose I needed a break after Kassel.

On a more productive note, Schlage handed me today's newspaper from Der Tag, the mouthpiece of the Germanian National People's Party, and much to my relief, the anti-semitic rhetoric and the Stab-in-the-Back myth had been subtly replaced with louder calls of a monarchist referendum, national unity, and for the rejection National Vanguardism and Bolshevism. I even saw the portrait of Rudensdorf as their party champion.

"How did you convince them to…drop the subject?" the DDP leader asked.

"It was a quid-pro-quo. They shut up about scapegoating the Judeans and I'll push forward a referendum for their precious monarch." I explained.

"What?! You seriously mean to -"

"Relax, Herr Schlage, I promised that I was going to help them organize a referendum but I did not say I was going to support it."

Schlage grew quiet at my words.

"When that time comes when I am asked to deliver my thoughts on the monarchy, my position will be the rejection of the former Kaiser coming out of retirement in Lothiern."

"That…is good to hear." He struggled hard to smile.

Quite frankly, I could see why he was so anxious. It was a massive risk to partake in: even with my reputation against the Kaiser, there might be just enough Imperial Nostalgia to tip the balance for a majority win for the monarchists.

"Do not worry, once the stability of the Republic has been assured and the democratic coalition has proven its value, the people of Germania will be content with the new status quo." I assured my superior.

Schlage nodded slowly.

"I hope you are correct in that assessment." He replied, taking off his spectacles to absentmindedly wipe at them. "Oh, on the former topic of foreign escapades, once you return from Warschau, would you be willing to explore a matter in Yugoslavia for us? Chancellor Herimann saw value in your advice in seeking deeper trade ties with our neighbors."

Yugoslavia was among the less fortunate of the Imperial successor states. Last I heard, and if my own previous world's history was any indication, the nation would be rife with ethnic and ideological struggle. Despite that, I could see where Chancellor Herimann was coming from: deepening trade ties with the Kingdom would favor Germania by default. To put it simply, as a predominantly agrarian-based nation, there was far more they would need to purchase from us than we from them - a trade deficit on their part would likely develop. And who knows? Perhaps the extra economic stimulus would help bring some stability to the country. Anyhow, acting as a simple diplomatic delegate seemed simple enough, not much could run afoul from such a venture. For now, however, I simply nodded non-committedly.

"I'll consider it."

The trip to Pullska was initially uneventful, aside from bureaucratic red tape put in place thanks to the new Germanian-Pullskan border. That was until the passport inspector, a rather humorous man, quickly sought out my autograph. Of course, that created a cascade effect, which resulted in everyone in my train car asking for my autograph. I signed my name on journals, suitcases, business cards, and literally anything they could shove into my face to sign.

"I can't imagine being the most famous woman in Europe." my fellow passenger commented, who was sitting across from me, once the last fanboy got back to his seat.

I sighed. "It isn't all it's made out to be, Herr…?"

"Foerster. Alan Foerster."

I shook his hand. His grip was hesitant, no doubt he was taken aback by the fact he was sharing the same corner of a random train cart with Argent Silver.

"Well met," I greeted, "What brings you on this journey to the east?"

"Heading to Danzig. I'm a journalist for the DNVP; my friend Stricher, you made quite the impression on him."

"Oh really? How so?" I'm already starting to dread where this conversation was heading.

"That interview was published in the paper yesterday. I read some of it." he scoffed, "We're both veterans of the Great War - why are you so determined to protect the Judeans?"

"Why are you so determined to hate them? As far as I can tell, there are more obvious enemies of Germania gnawing at our borders."

"The Francois, the Illdoans, the Reds, the Legadonian Entene, the Albish, hell, even the Magna Rumelians…" He listed off using his fingers. "We're surrounded."

"Exactly." I nodded.

"I hate them as much as you, as much as anyone here, for denying our country's destiny. But everybody knows that a fortress is most vulnerable on the inside."

"That is why instead of chasing after shadows and letting paranoia govern the garrison, we should unite and stand as one against the onslaught. Let every man, woman, and child who see themselves as true patriots of the Fatherland take up arms against the enemy."

"You think that the Judeans can be patriotic?" He asked, feeling incredulous.

"Half a million Judeans were called up into service during the Great War," I replied. I can just feel my body getting the urge to shut down and sleep. "They fought with valor, they fought with honor, and they fought knowing that they may not live to come home; just like the Magyars, just like the Pules, just like any other ethnic minority in the Empire. If that's not patriotism, then I am a Bolshevik spy."

Now that got him to chuckle.

"Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can concede to your point."

"Foerster, once you give the Judeans the chance to express their loyalty to Germania, you will not be disappointed by the results. We are all Germanians here. Even with the Empire dissolved, that does not mean its traditions are gone as well. If you keep blaming the Judeans, you will inevitably extend that hate to the Pules, the Magyars, the Dacians, the Bohemians, the Slovaks, etc, etc. It will be like Animal Farm: Everyone is a Germanian but some are more Germanian than others."

"Animal Farm?" Foerster looked slightly confused, "What is that? A book?"

"Nevermind…" I shook my head, "Forget what I just said."

"Right." He grunted, "Say, what about you? Why are you going east? I doubt you got exiled."

"I got invited to a wedding in Warschau though I may find myself involved in other affairs."

"Other affairs?" His eyes shot up, "Oh, the DDP sent you?"

"No, not this time."

"Really? What for?"

"I can't say but the answer is obvious."

"That's fine. I won't pry any further." Foerster nodded in acknowledgment. "Just be sure to let me know once the wedding is over, this sounds like a newsworthy story."

After silence ruled the air between us, the journalist reached into his pocket to pull out a bundle of napkins. They stored sliced apples, slightly brown from contact with the air, and Foerster offered me a slice.

"It's not a gold bar, but consider it my thanks for your service to the Empire." he said.

"Thank you." I smiled before biting into the apple slice.

"You should go to Konigsberg once you're done." He said suddenly, between mouthfuls of apples.

"What for?"

"There's a Germanian you need to seek out. From what I heard, he is causing quite a scene in Pullskan politics."

"How so?"

"Saying the Pules aren't 'real Germanians' and instead Slavic subhumans."

"How lovely…" I groaned, "I take it that the government would be indebted to me if I shut him down?"

Foerster nodded.

"The man is an occultist fetishist, but I think he'll listen to you."

"And why is that?"

"To quote his words, 'Because the Argent Silver is Germania, the warrior maiden incarnate of the Germanic peoples.'"

"Fascinating…" I snorted, "And say I do try to find this man, who is he anyway?"

"Himmler."

"Himmler?"

"Leopold Himmler."

For some reason, I had begun to suspect that this was no ordinary wedding. The wedding was between a young woman marrying a young veteran of the Great War, so showing up in a military uniform was to be expected. But as the only one present not wearing all white, I felt out of place. I probably should've spent the day before finding a white uniform from a tailor as soon as I got off the train, but it was a bit too late now.

The wedding was taking place at the Archcathedral Basilica of St. Johnathan the Baptist; a formidable presence amidst the city's grandeur and a testament to the human passion for art and crafts. The towering structure, adorned with a blend of red brick and white stone, demanded attention with its imposing facade.

I looked at the strategic design of the exterior. The pointed arches, buttresses, and meticulous stone carvings caught my eye; I found myself appreciative of the efficiency and purpose behind each element. Though, the statues of saints and biblical figures adorning the facade drew a cynical smirk out of me. Being X must have felt right at home here with me as his most valuable guest.

Drawing my eyes upward, I saw the twin towers reaching impressive heights as if they were fingers poking at clouds. Topped with spires that pierced the sky, they stood as a testament to the grandiosity of Gothic architecture, a language of elevation and aspiration.

As I stepped inside, I met with the receptionist who looked blessed to be in my presence, but my attention was drawn toward the vastness of the cathedral's interior, its spatial design reflecting the Gothic principles of height and openness. Not even the crowds of people present could take up the amount of space. The stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues upon the surroundings made me pause and stare in awe.

Snap out of it, Tanya. You weren't here to admire the technical skill of the men who built this holy temple.

That said, I could not help but continue to gaze upon the cathedral's grandeur, the altar area richly adorned with intricate carvings and religious depictions. Even the Papalist priest seems to glow considering the special occasion.

"Can you feel it? Fraulein von Degurechaff? The holiness? I see you have brought a rosary."

"Field Marshal Pilsud?" I snapped out of my thoughts upon hearing his voice, before suddenly noticing the rosary which had somehow found itself clutched within my palm. I thought I threw that thing away. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you: a special guest to a very special day."

"Is there a special reason why you sought me out?" I asked.

At my question, Pilsud looked to his left, to his right, to the man in front of him before turning back to me.

"Yes."

"Let me guess: the Republic is fracturing?"

"Essentially."

"The current leadership is proving itself ineffective and toothless?"

"Exactly."

"You need me to act as a rallying figure to allow for a successor to unite the country?"

"You know it."

Shrugging my shoulders, I let out a huff. This wasn't Daneland; Pullska was a large country in its own right. It would be more difficult to establish a functioning liberal republican government when the land was so used to authoritarian rule under the Kaiser.

"I do plan on speaking to President Moscic concerning the situation in Germania. Have you met the man?"

"Certainly. We were once close friends." His eyes were stormy and bitter as he said those words.

"Once?"

"He is a foolish man for continuing to maintain close relations with the Francois. What happened in Daneland should've been the last straw. Now this country is in danger of hyperinflation and mass unemployment."

"But surely he sees value in maintaining the Little Entente, a collective security against the Russy Federation as well as Germania? I doubt even Parisee would enjoy a communist hegemony over Europe."

Pilsud looked at me with those old stern eyes; the fire inside of him was dim from age but the fire remained nonetheless. It reminded me of my father from my old life when I told him about my job as a corporate HR manager and how one of its responsibilities was firing people.

"You're quite the angel to continue to believe in Moscic. I wish I had your youthful optimism." He finally said. "Do you just want a meeting with the President?"

"Ideally, the meeting would also include his cabinet members from the Socialist Party. The more people I could talk to, the better. It's crucial for what I have planned for Berun." I replied.

"I'll see if I can assist in any way. It might be very beneficial for me as well."

"How so?"

"I have deep grievances against the Francois Republic. Many in the army share the same sentiment. Moscic had long since ignored my calls to leave the Little Entente and seek new alliances. But if you were to remind him what good Francois aid was for Magyaroszag and Daneland, he would have to listen."

I suppose it is a fair point. Defensive alliances only work if the faction leader is committed to the cause of mutual defense. What Parisee did instead was quite frankly an embarrassment.

"How soon can you get the President to agree to a meeting?" I asked.

"Not sure, how long do you plan on staying?"

"Good question." I tapped my chin, "Since I was recommended to explore northern Pullska, I may stay for a week or two. Perhaps a month before I have to return for the election in November."

"Then I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, I would like to introduce you to some of the officers here." The elder commander offered.

"Lead the way." I sighed. I hope Pullskan citizens had more sense than the ones from Daneland.

Now that I think about it, this is the first wedding I have ever attended as an adult. No matter how hard I tried to remember, I couldn't recall a single moment in my previous life as a salaryman where I turned down an invitation, much less receive one in the first place. Company parties would see me in a corner alone, approached by the occasional peer, but never held in long conversions.

This experience was surreal; just going around meeting new and old faces. Autographs were given, pictures with me were taken, and I even had a chance to meet von Ugar's entire family including the youngest brother and his bride. I wished I had worn gloves when the men had bowed their heads to kiss my hand. The groom got lightly slapped by his future bride and he laughed at her awkward joke that I was going to steal him away from her.

As if things weren't strange enough, everyone showered me with praises of my natural beauty. I was cute before, back when I was a child soldier, but being called "beautiful?" That was an unfamiliar word to hear. My long golden locks and sapphire-rich eyes seem to be the ideal feminine look in the current fashion trend. When one of the bridesmaids came up to me to ask about my ideal male suitor, I seemed to shudder at her question.

Her smile was like a cat seeing a mouse stuck in a trap. "Are you, perchance, queer?" The bridesmaid whispered. No doubt an addict to gossip. I retained my silence as I quickly evacuated myself from her presence. Maybe it was a blessing to not be part of such lavish ceremonies.

After the last guest had arrived, the wedding ceremony could finally begin. The priest started us off with a prayer, the couple made their vows, the cake was shared, and speeches were made. Amidst all the idle talk I found myself dragged into one with von Ugar, Pilsud, and some of the Pulleskan officers. My mind wondered what my wedding would look like if it occurred. Who would I even marry?

I would prefer it to be someone at least conventionally good-looking but also someone diligent, loyal, honest, brave to a fault, and honorable. Someone who didn't hesitate to speak her mind.

Someone like Visha.

"Visha." I muttered softely by accident.

"Visha?" Pilsud stopped his remark to repeat her name, "Oh, she is the White Russy Emigre, right? The one who served as your second in command?"

"Uh, yes." Darn it, I should have paid more attention. "She still is. Now she's assisting me organize the Reichsbanner paramilitary in Germania. What of it?"

"With the Russy Federation agitating at the chance of spreading communism westward, it seems prudent that we recruit as many White Russy to our cause as possible." Von Ugar explained.

"There is one notable White Russy still active in East Asia we could try to invite. I believe he still has the loyalty and devotion of the former Tsarist soldiers here." Pilsud commented.

"Interesting. Where in East Asia? Manchuria?" I asked.

"Though there's plenty of White Exiles there, the person I had in mind is a little more west." Pilsud grinned.

"What? In Peking?"

"No, Mongolia."

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Elena Kaja Mazal Muller had served her Fatherland without hesitation, without restraint, without complaints; asking for nothing in return but recognition. By the Kaiser's will, she worked tirelessly to infiltrate socialist trade unions, separatist movements, and the naive conscientious objector book clubs. While the Empire's bravest sons and daughters fought on the frontlines against the perfidious Francois and Legadonians, she fought a more insidious battle against the arch-traitors, digging through closets full of entire graveyards.

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Values were being lost by the fallacious promises of a liberal order. When Field Marshal Kurt von Rudersdorf and General Hans von Zettour took over Berun, they formed a military junta to guide the war in a more successful direction. By the Generalissimo's will, Muller was promoted to lead her team to root out the degenerative rot corrupting the vestiges of Imperial institutions. While the Empire's innumerable foes fell to steel and gunpowder in a wrathful reckoning, the arch-traitors suffered the cold hands of Death grasping around their necks.

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Values that must be restored. The Kaiser has failed. The military has failed. The Heroes of the Empire are forgotten and unmourned. And what did the new Republic do? Let her people be scapegoated by the dissatisfied masses to avoid accountability for Germania's previous leadership. The spineless mongrels will pay dearly for this slander, serving the Francois for scraps. The hordes of betrayers from all fronts and all sides would face her vengeance.

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Values that the Argent Silver upholds.

No.

She is Honor. She is Loyalty. She is Duty. Visha, bless her filthy biased Russy heart, had written letters to Muller about her experience serving underneath Tanya von Degurechaff and spoke nothing but praise for her good character and self-sacrifice. After reading the files of the Devil of the Rhine, she only realized how her good friend's descriptions did not give justice to Tanya's intelligence. Silver was too lowly of a metal to become attached to von Degurechaff's name.

Tanya was as good as gold itself. She was as sure as the Sun rising in the West. For all this Enlightenment talk of the Social Contract, of rule by popular consent, God did not cease to exist. The Divine Right of Kings did not cease to exist. No one on this rotten sinful earth can achieve so much without divine favor from the Heavens. No one.

Tanya von Degurechaff was destined to lead Europe into a golden age, an empire to last ten thousand years, where no man or woman would fear the darkness ever again.

Honor. Loyalty. Duty. Values that must be protected. And it begins with a knock on the door.

Elena straightened out her new black uniform one last time. Respect to Herr Voss for joining Tanya's movement and contributing to the Reichsbanner. The yellow armband depicting the Schwarzer Drache contrasted nicely with the attire.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged housekeeper.

"Ah, he told me he is expecting someone like you to show up. Are you from the DDP?" she asked.

Elena nodded before being let in. She followed the housekeeper to her target's location. The old man was in the parlor, smoking like a chimney, looking mildly surprised when he saw who his guest was.

"Fraulein Muller? Is that you?"

"Guten Tag, Herr von Rudensdorf. I'm glad that we finally have the chance to become acquainted with each other. Only properly this time."

The Great War veteran sat up straighter in his seat. His eyes were immediately drawn to the yellow armband. He set aside his cigar and quickly called for his maid to bring out coffee and tea.

"Likewise…I see you have been productive in seeking out a new employer. I feel as if I should've known who given your unique skillset." He remarked, looking lost in his thoughts.

"Indeed. Out of all your exploits, raising a child to become your champion has got to be your greatest achievement yet. It is a true shame I have never seen her in action." Elena smiled.

"Yes. It has to be seen to be believed."

"Exactly, but that is not why I am here."

Rudensdorf let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"The election. I was offered to become President of the Republic as part of the deal between the conservatives and the progressives. I'm still considering it due to my previous attempt at being head of state."

"Did the DNVP advocate for Tanya von Degurechaff to serve as Chancellor?" Elena inquired.

"No. The Progressive Bloc settled on Herr Berning of Zentrum, a choice that proved to be most amicable to the political right."

How… inconvenient.

"Regardless," Elena grinned, "I implore you to accept their proposal. For the good of the nation and the Empire."

"So the rumors are true then…" Rudensdorf said.

"What rumors?"

"She wants the throne, doesn't she? The radio talks, the speeches, joining the liberals…sometimes I wonder if the liberals are as oblivious as they let on." He stared at Elena who met his gaze with unwavering intensity.

"You already know the answer to that question and because of it, you will do your part in assuring her ascension. Accept the role of Presidency and allow for Germania to be placed in safer hands."

"Safer?" Rudensdorf almost looked offended.

Elena's smile was finally dropped and replaced with a deep scowl.

"In a great number of instances, throughout my service to the Empire, I have found the former Kaiser and your dictatorship engaged in policies, at least to me, that seemed extremely irrational and counterproductive. I had found the direction of the war to be increasingly lost and confused following the escalation of the Great War.

To this extent, I place my faith and the vital interests of the Germanian people in hands more qualified, hands more worthy, to lead this country."

The glare that the retired Field Marshal gave could poison wells and salt fields.

"I think you have taken up too much of my personal time here. I believe there are other responsibilities you must attend to." he finally spoke, gesturing to his housekeeper to guide Elena to the front door.

"I believe I do. However, when you accept the position of becoming the next President, it is imperative that you clean yourself of the Stab-in-the-Back myth to ensure that the office retains enough credibility in the coming year." She called out to him, "I expect to see a full apology in the newspaper for leading the Germanian people astray with deceit."

Rudensdorf simply grunted in reply and just before Elena heard the door slam behind her, she couldn't help but pick up one last comment delivered to the old maid.

"Don't let that brown-haired bitch enter my estate again. I will not be another target of her dogma."

Silly Rudensdorf. Thinking Elena couldn't hear those words. Thinking he was safe inside his walls. Thinking his reputation would protect him.

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