The Minister took a drag on the cigarette and let its smoke slip out of her mouth like fog in a slow, easy breath. “I found my ties with those I trusted most severed or out of reach. There wasn’t a choice but to find my missing trusted companion in myself. You could have stayed, Loch, but you didn’t. You can’t turn back time and make that not so, but you can at least answer the question I asked. What are you doing here? I’m not so simple as to believe you’d come all the way here from Judge Above knows where just to visit for a single evening.”

The mysterious, handsome visitor’s frown remained level, but his brow curved up. “I know I am plenty suspect, but I hardly intend to deceive you, Miss Vang. I am here to check on your wellbeing.”

“Why do you call me that?” the Minister said with a sudden flash of irritation, “You know my name. Nobody calls me by my damn name anymore.”

“It is how I was raised. I mean naught by it.”

“I know, I know,” the Minister of the people touched the heel of her hand to the crown of her head with an exasperated grit in her teeth. “Forget it. Where did you float in from? Start with that, at least.”

The visitor shrugged as he realized that he couldn’t dissuade his host with evasiveness. “I was primarily in Plisseau, working upon a short term project that turned into something of a hasty gambit.”

“I suppose you’ll be going right back, then.” The Minister intoned bitterly, walking over to the table near the chair the visitor sat in, and crushing the end of her cigarette in the porcelain ashtray upon it. “Straight northwest again after dropping in for the hell of it.”

“No, actually,” the comely man smiled easily, eyes closed, “To be quite honest, I suffered a frustrating failure there, despite my best efforts. I did my best to delay the inevitable when I saw the way the wind blew, but no matter how I searched, there was no opportunity to bounce back. I forfeited, I suppose.”

That gave the Minister pause for thought. Just a few breath’s worth. “…Yet you’ve still plenty of other places to be, of course.”

“Of course,” the man opened his eyes at her, still smiling, and offered his hands up at his sides in a wordless apology. “But I do have to remain here more than a few hours. A couple of days, actually. I need to see if proper deliveries have arrived. If you want, we can pass the time until then.”

The Minister paused another few moments, but all the air went out of her. “You know what I want, Loch,” she said with what firmness her remaining breath could give her, “And I know better than to think I can have it. I want something I can’t have. I’ve accepted that now.”

“You flatter me, Miss Vang. Yet you are not quite correct on the last point.”

The Minister’s shoulders slackened as she collapsed into the armchair opposite the visitor. “So what are these deliveries, then. Gifts for the Republic?”

“Hardy freelancers, bringing their equipment and skill at arms, along with their number in fresh and eager adventurers.” The man’s eyes followed the Minister as she leaned forward and started to pull another cigarette from a pack, “They call themselves the Griffon Company.”

“Oh, that bunch,” the young lady whom was called Minister squinted at her guest, “They do a poor job of hiding their origins. Friends of yours, I suppose, from back home?”

“Not friends, no. Trustworthy sorts nevertheless.”

“Mhm. They aren’t nobody, though, that you’re betting them on this roll of the dice I’m making?”

The guest smiled further and laughed, covering his mouth. “Ah ha ha, Miss Vang, I do not bet such things on poor gambles. In my opinion, I doubt this is a gamble at all.”

“…That’s kind of you to imply,” the Minister clicked on a lighter a couple of times to prompt a flame to come forth and light her cigarette. “Why, though?”

For the first time, the visitor didn’t have an answer waiting, as though clairvoyant. He sighed a tiny, light thing, and tilted his head back. “I merely want to do good for the world. More than that, I’m afraid, I can’t say. I’m sorry, Miss Vang. It is not that I do not trust you, but that I must go upon my quest with but myself .”

The young lady, shoulders heavy from the title she bore, leaned deep back into her seat. Her eyes were full of questions- thoughts of bargaining- yet her words were only resignation. “…Alright. I think I understand.”

“Thank you, Miss Vang,” the guest said with a sigh of relief, “What has happened in my absence, then? I’ve quite a tale to tell of some old acquaintances, on my part…”

The young woman who had become Minister of the people cleared her throat, coughed, interrupted. “What’s your name, at least?” She widened her eyes and raised her bushy, thick brows pleadingly. “If you’re going to call yourself a friend and not pretend at it, being some weird mystery the whole while instead. Even an idiot would know your name isn’t Loch.”

The visitor laughed softly and shook his head. “I am sorry, Miss Vang-“

“My name,” the High Minister snapped irritably. “Is not Miss Vang.”

“-But none may know who do not already. Regardless, I would rather be known by my pseudonym than my birth name, anyways. I do not consider it less intimate to refer to me by it.”

“I think I can guess it anyways,” the High Minister’s brows lowered crossly and her visage dipped from a request to a command in implication, “If you don’t tell me, and I’m right, I’m going to be really mad.”

The visitor smiled slowly. “You won’t be able to, but go ahead. What makes you so certain?”
“You can’t help but look like you do. Even though doesn’t seem possible, with somebody like you, that just makes it more likely to be the truth because it’s not possible. I don’t know how, but not knowing how doesn’t mean the truth can’t be.”

“I do hope you’re not about to disappoint by pointing out my resemblance to a celebrity,” the visitor mused, still with the humored expression lighting his face like a morning glow.

The High Minister shook her head. “No. That’d only be a coincidence. You are impossible. Last chance, Loch.”

The enigma raised an eyebrow, but his smile only widened. “You know quite well that it would be a disappointment for us both were I to simply fold. Go on, then- see if your hand is as loaded as that face believes it is.”

-----

Anya Nowicki had already been beaten up that day- worse than she’d been in a while. Even still, she’d fully intended to get work done, to not be a dead weight, but when she had laid down for just a bit…the Judge apparently thought that justice for her sins or whatever that divine jerk called it hadn’t quite been given, and the inside of her guts started to hurt near as much as the outside. She’d thought it was something she ate disagreeing with her, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful or not that it wasn’t anything digestive. Just female.

“Hey, Creampuff,” a voice from outside the new underground quarters. “Heard you wanted to get some work in, yeah?”

“Fuck off, Illger,” Anya gave the fiercest snap she could in her condition, “Get the fuck out. I didn’t ask for shit. I’ll do it when I come out for it.” She’d have told him to leave even if everything didn’t hurt. The only thing she wanted to see right now was a crate of booze to put herself to sleep with and get over this crap sooner.

“I’m coming in.”

“I’ll fucking shoot you.”

Illger came in anyways. Even if Anya had been able to pick up the gun with any speed, considering her good arm was bound up, she doubted that the Cockroach would even die from getting shot anyways. It’d just make her space stink with his ichor. The grody, long haired and knife-nosed mercenary let himself in, pushing aside the wood slat shutters and moving along the wall, casting a deep shadow from the single yellow electric lamp hanging above. He tossed a folder of papers at the foot of the bed, and squinted at Anya.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, “Didn’t you go into town today? What the hell messed you up so badly?”

“Some uppity slut didn’t like me." Anya said sharply, "Story’s over. Get the fuck out.”

Illger shook his head. “Nah. Hard to get you alone, and harder still to get you in a place where you can’t do anything about me bothering you. I’ve been wanting to actually talk to you for a while, without having to be the peacemaker.” Illger leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, a serious frown crossing his face. “When are you gonna pull your head out of your ass, Anya?”

“When you finally fucking get killed and stay dead.” Anya shot back, baring her teeth, “How about you go and do that instead of shitting up my room? I’m not even close to the right mood for this bullshit.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving. Plenty of people left. Why won’t you come back?” Illger threw up his hands, “We’re mercenaries, but you know as well as any of us that we weren’t in it for the money, we were paid but that’s not why we were there. We fought alongside each other for years, and if you tell anybody that don’t mean a thing to you then you’re a rotten liar and Hell would know from the hereafter.”

“How fucking dare you-“

“Cut it out with the attitude, I knew him too, you shitty little runt!” Illger slammed his fist on the wall, “We all knew each other. The Hogs weren’t just Hell, it was all of us, and finally, the gang’s almost back together. Everybody who didn’t get killed, or who didn’t disappear, like too many of us did. Yet people ask you if you’ll come back, not even now, but in however long, and you say not a chance, or never. Just what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re a dipshit, cockroach,” Anya said flatly, “You think I want to stay in Sosaldt my whole damn life? Maybe you’re just a Hog and nothing else, but I’m not. I don’t have to hide in the dust because I can’t go back to my old life.”

“Don’t talk shit about what you don’t know,” llger snapped and pointed an accusing finger, “if you weren’t Creampuff I’d rip those bandages off your face and rearrange things even more.”

“Try it, pussy.” Anya could talk a good game, but it was clear that she was putting all her weight on the wall, and Illger snapped his head away and balled up his hands into fists, with a dismissive grunt.

“…You’re retarded, Anya.” Illger gave a spiteful glance sideways, “What, we aren’t comrades? Friends?”

“Not if you have to chain me to your ass, you’re not.”

“Hmph.” Illger closed his eyes and sighed deep enough to bend him in the middle. “…He’s not Hell.”

“I know.”

The lanky mercenary opened his dark eyes a little. “Why, then?”

“’Cause he’s not Hell.” Anya’s tone, for once there, turned into something besides that of a sarcastic shrew. “It’s not ‘cause I don’t love you all, Ilg, really, I just can’t go back and try and pretend it’s like I never left, like I wouldn’t just looking for something I know won’t come back. It’s not what I want. Isn’t that good enough?”

Illger said nothing, then shrugged his shoulders slightly, and straightened off the wall. “I’ll tell the boys to knock it off, then. But you’d better not keep wrecking yourself. Vinny said you almost spilled out all your blood in Todesfelsen, and I come here, you go from bad to worse right in front of me. If you show up to Judgement looking like a pile of meat, Hell’s going to throw me into the flames himself.”

“That’s implying you’ll actually die.”

The Hog laughed hollowly. “I wish. Are you doing alright there?”

“Got cramps.”

“Welp,” Illger only thought for a moment, “I’ll see if Eakova’s got any herbs or whatever. She acts hard but she’s not that selfish.”

“I’ll be fine. Now get out.” Anya pointed to the door with her hand on her healthy arm.

Illger sauntered out and shut the slats behind him. “Night, Anya,” he only dared to say once out of reach.

-----

You are Richter Von Tracht- and out in the border zone at night with but a pistol hidden in your beltline and your only accompaniment a (similarly armed and darkly dressed) maid, you felt like a deer by a cougar’s nest. Twaryians did not fear the night, and a pair of people loping about were prime targets for sharpshooters- but the now plainly dressed maid of the High Protector seemed to know what she was doing as she kept to the deepest shadows of night, not even allowing a second in a place touched by moonlight as you were ostensibly led to meet with the Eastern Resistance Army insurgents across the border. The “maid” called Mabel had told you not to utter a whisper when you were on the move- only to follow closely. The Twaryians had a sharp ear for New Nauk, after all.

A few questions had been answered before you embarked on the silent night hike. Yes, the cell you would encounter would be well acquainted with Mabel- yes, you could find a willing ally in most cells for whatever plans you had. No, you would likely not be returning the same night, or same day. Any small talk for an attempt at familiarity was brushed off, and there would be no chance to try again on the way.

Mabel was extremely careful- at one point, you laid low in some trees for well into an hour before moving on. Mabel gave no indication of what she had seen- you could only assume that, since she started moving again, the threat of it had passed. Where and why a domestic servant would have learned this was something that could only be guessed at for now.

Finally, after you were sure you were plenty over the border and had still been going for some time, Mabel stopped by a tumbled-down cottage in some woods, and said, quietly, “Here.”

Was it alright to talk? “…Here what..?” you inquired after. There didn’t seem to be anything at all here.

“We wait.” Mabel sat, “Rest if you wish. There is shelter in the ruin, but no barrier to the winter beyond this.” She held out a thin looking wool bolt that had been rolled up in her long coat- a polar opposite to the frilly maid’s attire she’d first shown up in. “At first light we join with villagers going to town. A friend of the ERA goes back and forth- if he does not appear, then some improvisation will have to be made, but otherwise that is the safest way.”

“…We seemed to be doing alright…”

“We narrowly avoided three plastuny patrols,” Mabel said like she was describing porridge’s aesthetic appeal- it also gave you a bit of a start since you hadn’t noticed any at all. Perhaps her definition of narrowly avoiding was different. “Dawn is the safest time to move about as the nocturnally inclined rest and the others rise.”

You understood that well already. Part of your planning for taking care of your present target, Andrej Gerovic, involved knowledge that he woke much later in the day than normal. Normal as far as you were concerned. Yet you also heard the ticking of a clock in your head, thinking about how much time you really had. “…Can we not try our luck and go on now? I would rather arrive sooner…”

“No.” Mabel said without looking at you, or elaborating further.

The message was clear- things were being done her way, and you certainly wouldn’t be scooting off without her in these lands unless you were even stupider than some people liked to accuse you of being. Mabel seemed about as chatty as a statue, so there was little point in not trying to sleep. It wasn’t bitingly cold, but you still appreciated the sheet as it was handed to you on your way into the meager shelter, more or less a convenient cave in the collapsed house, dug into the earth. A few boxes lay about that you didn’t dare disturb, and a slight spreading black mark of a past fire in the center of the small hollow was evidence that this place was indeed intended as shelter. You wrapped yourself in the sheet and huddled in a corner, trying your best to keep your mind off of everything as you waited for first light. At least the Fear had been severely blunted since your first experience with it
.
-----

…Hm? You woke up in another place. Inside. The floor was black boards, as were the walls, and…this was the cottage in the otherworld, wasn’t it? Yet you hadn’t heard the voice of the Demiphantom pulling you away…

“Looking rather worse for wear, hm?” the hollow, strange sounding voice of Poltergeist- you sat up and saw the heavily robed and hooded figure squatting across from you, a towering man who was so wrapped up in layers not a single bit of him was visible, with scrawling of some ancient language decorating bands upon his clothing, an old leather gas mask on his face. One of the eye glasses had been broken by a bullet ages ago. There wasn’t a table between you this time- for whatever reason, the place was sparsely furnished. The soulbinder himself looked, and sounded, the same as ever. Huge, and with a tone in his talking as though it were wooden wind chimes rather than vocal chords forming words.

You didn’t know how you were transported, but you always arrived clothed in whatever you had been wearing- your eyepatch was a new addition since you’d last seen Poltergeist.

“…I wasn’t…pulled here..?”

“Oh, you were, you couldn’t come here otherwise,” Poltergeist corrected your assumption, “If you happened to be in a place of power or close to a stronger presence creature, though, you might have had your senses muddled. Think of it like pins and needles on your arm.”

Both were equally likely in Ellowie from what small amount you knew about this bizarre phenomena. You also knew just enough to know that asking further about such things was a waste of time with this particular person. “…Fine.” You were here now no matter the strange details. “I need help. Someone’s come to kill me, and if I’m dead, you can’t have your demiphantom…”

“I can’t?” Poltergeist said in mocking tone, “If you need aid, you know how to call for it, do you not? Saving your life is a fair trade, but I do hope that you don’t come to regret not rolling that dice later on. After all, is your life not already threatened as is, constantly? Or did you wound yourself in the eye and leg and otherwise by accident?”

“…Well, this is different…”

“They can’t be convinced away from killing you and specifically you?” Poltergeist queried innocently, almost in a harsh coughing chuckle, “You either did something terrible, or hilarious. Which?”

You ignored that question. “…I am in Ellowie currently…you will come, for certain, if called…right..?”

“I am bound, dear boy,” Poltergeist splayed a gloved hand over his robed chest, “I have no choice. But you must call. I will not merely appear at the time of direst need on happenstance alone. I would appreciate it, since you are where you are, if you would warn of any who might take umbrage with me. Not that I predict they could stop me, but I so do dislike surprises of the violent variety.”

>Ask/Request anything from Poltergeist?
>Anything you would like to tell or converse about?
>Other actions?

Past Threads are collected here: https://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh
Twitter for announcements and various horseshit is @scheissfunker

>>4193412
>>Ask/Request anything from Poltergeist?
Explain the entire situation regarding Bertram for a start.
As for soulbinders around there's Yva and those other guys Metzeler ran into in the woods but since we don't know anything about wizard politics he needs to decide for himself.
>Anything you would like to tell or converse about?
Ask him if those Oblitares have been bothering him lately given all the increased Caelussian presence on the continent.
Besides that another people can chip in.

Also that opening segment. Is Richter and Reinhold going to meet? And after that conversation with Signy and how it's seemingly not possible for him to be there my theory now is that Loch is the Kaiser in disguise.
The new OP is also great btw.

>>4193424
Supporting

>>4193412
>Supporting >>4193424
Is Poltergeist's broken eye glass on the same side as our eyepatch?

>>4193424
>The new OP is also great btw.
Thanks! I certainly blew enough time on it.

>>4193495
>Is Poltergeist's broken eye glass on the same side as our eyepatch?
It is not. What a coincidence that would be.

>>4193424
+1

>>4193424

supporting

>>4193412
Yeah I like this >>4193424

>>4193424
+1
>The new OP is also great btw.
Yup, unfortunately it was by the sacrifice of our elder boi

>>4193424
>>4193479
>>4193495
>>4193515
>>4193596
>>4193611
>>4193619
Rather unanimous support for these things to sling at the spooky wizard man.

>>4193442
Pug

Writing!

>Are Richter and Reinhold going to meet?
It'd be pretty cruel for Reinhold to have only a month and change off before being sent away to another country again, wouldn't it? But Linda probably wouldn't mind getting to seethe somewhere else where she doesn't have to look at Halmeggians.

>>4193631
He ran away again to avoid the waifu war between Linda and Eidan. Winnifred still best Luftpanzer girl though.

…If Poltergeist didn’t know why you were being hunted down, then could you expect him to help you without knowing? You were rather sure you hadn’t told him of it- he did know of Hilda…to what degree, you didn’t know. Regardless, you started with that. “…You should know the whole story…why I’m being targeted specifically…”

You didn’t have unlimited time, of course, so you tried to highlight the most significant points. What happened to Hilda- what Bertram was either enraged or offended over, and blaming you for it. You couldn’t help emphasizing the same thing you’d stated to Bertram- an angered defense of yourself, you had a part, admittedly, but you’d tried your best to-

“Settle down,” Poltergeist interrupted you, “I know you didn’t get her pregnant and wrap up the pillowtalk by vomiting presence all over her.”

“…That damned Riverman,” you cursed, “She already had the…the other matter, but after what he did-“

“Yet she put herself in that position. I’m sure the danger was known. The danger of a sorcerer scorching her with overzealous use of presence? You might be surprised, heh.”
“I’d rather not blame Hilda for what has happened to her,” you looked down sharply.

“Then you and her brother have at least one thing in common then, don’t you?” Poltergeist wasn’t being particularly sympathetic. His levels seemed to vary, especially in this place. “He doesn’t respect that the decisions she made were hers. But you sent her back to your home?”

“To my parents, yes,” your speech had quickened with your heart rate, “They…they know better how to take care of her than I. I’m not so vain that I can’t admit that…I couldn’t handle her,” your righteous fury turned to cold resignation in a flash, like you’d dipped yourself in ice water, “As far back as…you know when, I should have known I couldn’t.”

“Yet she asked to accompany you to protect you.”

“…Yes.”

“Then she was sent back?”

The implication was clear, and you ground your teeth for the next answer. “…Yes. Was I supposed to keep her around? She was, and is, pregnant. She was ill. She would have destroyed herself, and her child too.”

“Your enemy’s child, whose father was wiped away because he was inconvenient?” Poltergeist had that same sing-song lilt to his reedy wooden voice, and it was irritating (probably on purpose), yet it would have been pointless to insult him, let alone attack him for such besmirching.

“Hilda’s child,” you stressed instead, “Her’s. Don’t you try and judge me too.”

Poltergeist chortled to himself, fingers held together. “Heh Heh. Indeed. I have no right. I am simply finding it amusing that, this time where you could not bear her insistence to martyr herself, you sent her to a place where her brother could find you…and decide to take vengeance. An ironic payment for trying to help her.”

You hanged your head and said naught to that. “…Such is the present situation.”

“Did she truly just go on her way without a word?” Poltergeist didn’t let you move along so easily, “She did not want for anything as a parting?”

“…I know…I know I can’t ask for that. Of course I want more, but, I know I shouldn’t expect anything. But…I think I’d be happy, with just once…and nothing more. Nothing further. Just…”

“…No.” you mumbled to yourself. “No time. If I call upon you, there are…soulbinders I know of. One is Yva, whom I told you about…”

“Did you?” Poltergeist asked blankly, “Describe her. It may have been quite a while.”

…Right, time here was not a constant. “…Of course. She has long hair, spectacles…a false arm…”

“Pardon?” Poltergeist only perked to the last part. “A false arm?”

“…Yes, but, it moved like a true one, and reassembled when it was broken, shattered-“

“Heh heh heh.” Poltergeist rose and fell slightly with each heavy heh, “What an odd sort you found. Most would not have a chance to be the slightest bit chummy with a Maiden of Yjens.”

“…A what…?”

“That arm of hers is an artifact. A relic, likely many times older than her, made with forbidden ways- of course, none are supposed to be used, but the Oblitares have no qualms about such. Certain Nief’yem tribes have chosen young women undergo rites that give them the potential to become quite powerful, should either the Mountain Lords or the Oblitares manage to find one willing to devote themselves to a cause- a Maiden of Yjens is the end point of such, after they have undergone the Rites of Binding, naturally, and outfitted with whatever could be scrounged up to strengthen her. Usually, artifacts do not take well to those besides the ones who made them, but women’s presences have a greater flexibility to them, for better or worse. Yes, she would probably try and kill me. Perhaps even succeed, depending upon how serious she was, and how serious I was not.”

“…She…she could kill you..?” You sputtered in disbelief, “But, you-“

“Could, but probably wouldn’t. Do have some faith in me. You could be killed by an adolescent child with a heavy stone, but you would have to be a fool to allow it to do that.” Poltergeist said as though speaking of mere morning weather, “They rarely stay long in one place. I wonder if anything is keeping her about…”

“…There was one thing…” you recalled, to what felt like forever ago- it had happened before your conditioning was removed. “Another soulbinder, with a steel mask. She and them fought, in this village that appeared out of nowhere…”

“Better to let that mess with the village lie,” Poltergeist said with uncharacteristic wariness, “The Iron Gaze, hm? He was decent, I suppose. Yet if you still have this Yva around, he’s either scattered to the winds or driven quite well away. I thought he was rather an unflattering copycat anyways, heh heh.”

Poltergeist’s allegiances were never clear. He spoke in a condescending tone of the so-called Mountain Lords, but also talked of the Oblitares as enemies. It didn’t particularly concern you who was who- just, in this case, who the enigmatic thing might have the biggest trouble with.

“…There has been an increase in Caelussian presence, at present…” you told Poltergeist next, “…Would that be giving you trouble? What with the Oblitares being connected to those across the sea…”

“Me in particular? No.” Poltergeist said easily, with no reservation, “I can’t be traipsing about doing everybody’s dirty work for them all the time, after all. I like to take lengthy holidays, heh heh.” He leaned forward and seemed to squint at you. “Not much time left. A couple more things. One. Do you mind terribly what happens to this Yva? After all, she might interfere.”

“…Well-“

“Not done yet.” Poltergeist shut you up with a raised pair of fingers, “The other is a mere curiosity. Did the poor dear ever have a chance?”

“…Who?”

“You know who.”

>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
>Other?
As for Yva-
>You didn’t care. What was important was that Poltergeist do what he promised.
>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?
>Other?
And-
>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about? It’ll have to be snappy, or you might get yanked in the middle!

>>4193768
>>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.

>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
>>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
>>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?
Of course if it's life or death I'd wouldn't expect him to hold back
>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about? It’ll have to be snappy, or you might get yanked in the middle!
See you again soon hopefully

>>4193768
>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
I assume he’s taking about Hilda
>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
Even if we weren't engaged to Maddy would be way more likely for Richter to either end up with Signy or some random noble girl like Rondo
>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
Basically this >>4193788
>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about?
Ask if he's seen anything in particular on his latest "vacation" that might concern us while we're still out in Ellowie, just by the by.

>>4193442
>dog nipples
Lewd!

>>4193768
>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
That sequence would require us not meeting Maddy nor Signy, so not many chances there.

>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about?
What does he know about creating artificial bodies for ghosts? I don't suppose the prohibitions of Mountain Lords matter much to him.
Even if we never find Emma again, her siblings are still stuck there in their manor.

>>4193768
>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
Maybe if her life weren't ruined from the start.
>You didn’t care. What was important was that Poltergeist do what he promised.
Don't start caring about Yva now.

>>4193768
>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?
>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about? It’ll have to be snappy, or you might get yanked in the middle!
Alternative advice on potential dealing with things on our own. I would really really rather not spend our wish this way if we could help it.

Just to be clear, all this talk is like the forming of the contract rather than the final signing of it? We haven't actually agreed to use is Request until Richter's actually summoned him in the waking world, right?

>>4193768
>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.

>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
>>No. Not ever. Not even if your circumstances were different.
>>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?

>>4193768
Nice opening tanq
Although I want to make sure this isn't us pulling the trigger on calling him here.

>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
It would have been better if she had never met us at all. Or if it had worked out. Just not this middle path
>You didn’t care. What was important was that Poltergeist do what he promised.
Another good case for never meeting her at all.

>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about? It’ll have to be snappy, or you might get yanked in the middle!
If we do die, ask him to make sure Maddy won't be bothered by the Demiphantom again.

>>4193768
>Maybe, in some different sequence of events. Just not the one that had happened.
Hilda is a good girl, to out right reject even the possibility of her is so callous it's ridiculous.

>It might be inconvenient, but, could you ask that he not wound Yva too terribly? She was your friend’s…friend?
Friend's friend is a important title.

>Anything else to bug Poltergeist about? It’ll have to be snappy, or you might get yanked in the middle!
Ask about his vacation, ask if he could check in on Maddy if he ever got the chance.

I am back agai.

>>4193783
>>4193818
>>4193898
>>4193939
>>4194168
>>4194276
A possibility is there.

>>4193788
>>4193802
>>4193829
>>4193874
>>4193935
>>4193964
>>4194114
Not a chance.

Also don't kill glasses bitch.

Other subjects- artificial bodies, handling this on our own, vacation, check on my dog.

Wriritng.

>>4193961
>Just to be clear, all this talk is like the forming of the contract rather than the final signing of it? We haven't actually agreed to use is Request until Richter's actually summoned him in the waking world, right?
Yes. Technically not even formation, just specification of a few things. The final "signature" would be saying the words he gave you specifically to summon him in a time of need.

Was there even a chance? It wasn’t that you didn’t have a measure of respect for her, or appreciation for what she’d done, but there was much that had come before. Even had you not been betrothed because of status, there was…your head tensed up inside as uncomfortable considerations ran into other uncomfortable considerations to cancel them out. It wasn’t that she was-

“Do give me an answer before you disappear again.” Poltergeist’s voice broke you out of internal justification, but the answer itself had been decided before anyways.
“…No. Not ever.” You said heavily, “Not even if everything had been different. It’s just not possible...”

“If you say so,” Poltergeist pushed no further, “Though you had best tell her that, then. I wonder what she would think of hearing that…should you live to say it. Heh heh heh. So what of the Maiden, then.”

“…I’d rather you not hurt her too badly if you don’t need to. She is my friend’s…friend..?” Von Metzeler would certainly have been upset by such, and he’d been through quite a bit lately, to say the least.

“So be it.”

What else did you want to ask about…with not much time…ah. “…Artificial bodies…they do exist..?”

“Have we spoken of them before?” Poltergeist said as though he had to remember it, “I believe I would have told you they are forbidden? Though you know how convenient it is for some to ignore such laws.”

“…I would hope it might be convenient…” You weren’t sure if you had lost Emma, or misplaced her, but you did feel some obligation to at least try to make good on whatever impossible promise you’d made.

“For me?” Poltergeist asked coyly, “Maybe as a favor, but such would be quite one. I have heard that the Hermit had a fondness for such projects, but most consider death to be quite final. To grant life to a being that did not have it in the first place, the inversion of granting presence to a corporeal form with none in the Rite of Binding, rubs nearly everyone the wrong way, save for some who see the world as a toy box.”

Despite the casual way Poltergeist had said such, you knew his opinion of the one called the Hermit was hostile- when you had met the entity, he had claimed that he would go and kill him, until Maddalyn had informed him the soulbinder in question had gone utterly senile, reduced to a slumbering, near senseless old man. Said Hermit was also, apparently, Maddalyn’s master in the occult. It was a long shot, but if Poltergeist implied that Maddalyn would know best, out of those near and willing…

“…I see. Another thing, If I didn’t want to spend my one wish on this, you can at least advise me on what I should do..?”

Poltergeist must have given you quite the funny look behind that mask. “But I do want you to spend it sometimes. I would say, if you cannot fight him, then submit to his demands. At the very least they might not be as bad as the consequences of losing your oh so honorable duel, yes?”

“…That wasn’t what I was hoping to hear,” you grumbled, “His demands might be even more unreasonable, now…”

“If you want to make that my problem instead of yours, you know what words to say,” Poltergeist said haughtily, “You’ve about ten seconds now.”

Ten seconds…nine…you leapt forward and grabbed Poltergeist by his coat, and he stared at you nonplussed as you gave a final plea. “If I don’t make it out of this, whatever way,” you gasped at him, “Give me your word, that that thing you want never bothers Maddalyn again. Check on her, keep her safe, but-“

Poltergeist’s robes became insubstantial, then the rest of the world did. His glass lenses stared coldly at you as you drifted into the nothing.

-----

You came to in the back of…a wagon, from how it felt? The sky was pale blue, the sun rising, and you rubbed your eyes as you sat up to get a better bearing. Morning of the sixteenth of January, four nights since Bertram attacked you and had given you a deadline of a week. Three mornings from now, you’d be out of time, and you felt as unready as you had been that first night. Moreso, as your newer wounds ached along with the earlier ones.

“I see the sleepyhead’s up,” a harshly accented voice of a man in the later end of his middle age came from the front, “Mabel’s pretty pissed, new guy. Better say good morning with a sorry m’am.”

A turn of the head back informed you of where Mabel was, but her expression was as placid as ever. “You would not wake up,” she said plainly, “I had to drag you to the road to be picked up by Boryz, this gentleman.”

“Gentleman!” Boryz hooted, “Farmer and nothing more, and don’t let no slony hear otherwise, heh?”

“…Slony?” you echoed, then with a blink, you bowed your head ever so slightly to the maid. “…Sorry, m’am.”

“It is unnecessary to apologize.” Mabel said with stoic plainness, though you figured now that the blonde maid kept her face a statue when in company like yours.

“Aye, slony, means salty in the old way of talk. Short for salty pricks, see. They like to slog about in their salt marshes up to the hip, see. Does funny things to their junks, ‘s why they’re so pissed all the time, yeah?”

Somehow you doubted that was the truth, but you nodded, still trying to push your eyelids up and properly wake. “…Then you must be with the Eastern Resistance Army…” you were certain you were isolated before mentioning that, of course.

“What I do,” Boryz cleared his throat, “Is take care of a few lost kids and try’n keep them outta trouble. The slone like to keep to themselves and to their cronies but give them a reason to screw with you and they won’t hesitate. Keep your eyes front and speak when spoken to’s the rule, unless it’s business. Can’t help you if you cause trouble. Lot of the less careful kids don’t realize that, and they get strung up for it. Hear? Or rather,” Boryz pointed down the road, “You’d see, if we were deeper south. They won’t do it in the Border Zone where people can see it, but there are places where they’ll leave insurgents up for days. If nobody comes and gets ‘em, they rot up on a rope. ‘Course, some of the kids say they’d rather be on a rope than get put in a monastery, but, hell.”

“The Twaryian standard for stray children is to place them in religious institutions,” Mabel explained to you coolly, “Perhaps it is well intentioned, but most are placed on a wait, and most suspect such places to be merely a front.”

“…So how will this work? We were a ways from Dymny, after all…” Said town was where your target, Gerovic, was said to reside at times, and you intended to make allies of the Eastern Resistance Army to try and strike him at his domain, rather than trying to bait him out, or wait for him to strike you again.

“You will meet with the cell in this area,” Mabel told you, “And I will introduce you properly. From there, you may be placed in touch with the cells close to your sector of the border.”

“This’ll be a bit of a slow drive,” Boryz said, relaxed, “A good morning one, where the slone are too sleepy to be feeling like stirring up shit for a little bit, so I like to take that time when it comes. We’ve some time to talk shop, if you like.”

>Ask anything of either person here, Mabel, Maid to the High Protector, and Boryz, “Farmer?”
>Other?

>>4194699
>>Ask anything of either person here, Mabel, Maid to the High Protector, and Boryz, “Farmer?”
What kind of support has the High Protector been able to give to the ERA given his restraints by the Netillians? Anything right now that they're in desperate need of that we can help with besides guns?
How successful have they been at making the Twaryians lives miserable in this stretch of the border. Any notable achievements?

>>4194699
>Ask anything of either person here, Mabel, Maid to the High Protector, and Boryz, “Farmer?”
Anything we should do or not do when we meet the local cells?

>>4194699
>Ask anything of either person here, Mabel, Maid to the High Protector, and Boryz, “Farmer?”
How's their relationship with the Twaryian-backed insurgents?
Actually, how loyal are those insurgents to Twaryians? If an opportunity came up to kick the Twaryians out, would they turn against them?
Should we be wary of Ellowian collaborant spies?

>>4194699
Ask the nice farmer if he knows anything about troops or supplies moving around or up to the border. There’s been two major attacks on us at least so somethings had to have caught some attention. We punched back a bit with that prisoner night raid so I’m also a little curious if there were any other targets like that we missed a go at too.

>>4194699
Ask him what his crop is

>>4194707
>>4194711
>>4194736
>>4194779
>>4194878
Questions of all sorts!
Today is an rpg day with some folks so I'll be slow in updates today but I'll try and have one soon. Writing.

“…So you farm, what do you grow..?” You engaged with a simple question first as you thought of the details of other matters.

“Oh, the usual for the season. Soil right here doesn’t make the plants blow up like some places, but most stuff likes it well enough to grow, like…” Boryz paused a moment, “Where’re you from, you know fields well? Ranching? Woods?”

“…Er, outskirts of a city…”

“Hah. City slickers, they never know where the food on their plate comes from,” Boryz had a chuckle at your expense, “Winter started out not too cold, so I have blue beets, spinach, leeks, curdflower, the works. Taking a gamble on a few that the snow stays shallow and the nights don’t get too cold, but I’ve always been lucky on that, slone about or no. Wish I planted more blue beet- they’re fickle things, but turns out the Slone get awful homesick over ‘em. Kids hate ‘em, ‘course. Couple buggers ask why I’m not a confectioner instead. Does it count if I decide to start on sugar beet? Hah.”

At least he was a jolly sort, considering Ellowie’s circumstances. “…You keep calling them kids. Should I mind speaking of certain things..?”

“Most of the Eastern Resistance Army’s field operatives consist of adolescents,” Mabel supplied for you, “They are eager, reckless. They adore support and are made furious by condemnation. Keep their passions in mind with what you say- but treat them as equals, not as an adult to children, even if they appear to be just that.”

“It’s the biggest thing they’ve done in their lives.” Boryz agreed, “They’re touchy about it, but they’ve got people above them to take the belt to them. Be short with the bosses, and not when the kids’re watching. Lot of them have got their fuses cut short. Can understand that, yeah?”

Sympathy was easy to grow within. You certainly had plenty of accomplishments under your belt now, but starting off you had the weight of your ancestors’ legacy upon your shoulders. For years, you couldn’t bear the thought of being the Von Tracht who did naught. “…What are some things they’ve done, then? Maybe I can talk with them about how they’ve made the Twaryians’ lives miserable, ask about these things they must take pride in…”

“You’ll not find many who participated in major attacks,” Mabel said in a voice flat and smooth as a river stone, “The Governor-General has responded to the what was the most successful operation with brutality such that it made the victory rather bitter. General harassment is now preferred- and has proven far more effective in frustrating the Twaryians than performances in the same nature as the UGZ-07 uprising.”

“That it made him do that shows how much is stung, didn’t it?” Boryz said back, turning his head to glance at Mabel and giving you a look at his face. Wide, doughy, gentle looking with a big flat nose- not a man you’d guess was anything but a mere farmer, quite honestly, and his jacket and hat hung so loosely it made him even larger in appearance. “Ah, what she’s talkin’ about is the Battle at Lodjaw. Managed to drive a pair of big ol’ bombs in cars into the center of town and set ‘em off near the barracks and administrative centers, and flatten some around it too. Then eleven different cells threw all they had at what was left, and stuck out against the reinforcements that came. I hear it was a hell of a fight, they wiped out near seven hundred in all, both Twaryians and Revolutionary Front pukes.”

“Eight of said cells were destroyed in the battle, though, and the rest scattered in the aftermath,” Mabel countered, “I would advise against bringing up the Lodjaw Massacre around Twaryians in particular. They have justified much using it, and continue to do such.”

“…I’ve never so much as heard of such a thing…” At least not near you- the scale of such sounded impossible to ignore- it made the huge battle you had endured a few days past seem puny by comparison.

“You wouldn’t have,” Boris said, looking forward again to his horses, “The easterners kept that shut up as best they could from going over the border. It happened deeper in- the Border Zone’s better for organizing things since they can’t keep as many troops here ‘cause of the treaties, but the cells got ready here, then trekked further in where they weren’t expected. It took a while, but the Eastern Resistance Army got the Twaryians in the field- and beat ‘em.”
From what Mabel implied, though, the Eastern Resistance had lost more than it gained with that win, in the end. “…So what does the ERA do around here, in the Border Zone..?”

“Get things ready, mostly. Steal n’ all. They really want to have another Lodjaw- but bigger. Can’t just let the slone have a break, though. The rails and roads get messed with wherever they can be, fires get set, take potshots whenever possible. There’s people who just live in holes in the land, and we leave stuff where they can find them. Don’t even know who or where they are, but they make things hell. Call ‘em the Vengeful Phantoms. With them and messing with the supply chain, the easterners are dragged all over, and they have to try and have their suckups, the Revolutionary Front, take up the slack.”

“…So you fight the Revolutionary Front, then..?”

“They are an apparatus of the occupation government, on this side of the border,” Mabel supplied to you, “Not that it is very productive to fight against our countrymen, no matter if they are misguided. They do tend to be the easiest targets. More zeal for their cause than training and sense.”

“…Is this zeal to their cause all encompassing? Does it extend towards loyalty to the Twaryians..?”

Boryz gave a hearty snort to that. “The Twaryians are the only ones givin’ them the time of day. Nobody wanted their socialism nonsense before, and now that they’re workin’ with the slone there’s even more reason to just throw ‘em all out when we’re done. Let ‘em build an ideal society somewhere the hell else instead ‘a knockin’ ours to the ground to do it here, I say.”

“…They would not turn even if the Twaryians could be kicked out..?” you pushed harder. “…Do they not share the same spite as most Ellowians do..?”

“They see the Netillians as a greater threat to the people,” Mabel explained to you in the cooler manner she seemed to prefer, “Who can say what they would do if the Netillians ceased to be present while the Twaryians still occupy this land?”

No luck there, then. Darn. “…So what has the High Protector been doing to support the Eastern Resistance Army, out of curiosity…”

“Sends his lovely maids over, see?” Boryz said sardonically.

“Liaisons, yes,” Mabel specified that remark, “between cells, and also, more significantly, between Vynmark and the occupied territories, as he has acquaintances in that country. He also has provided refuge for leaders, and those at risk.”

“The serving staff always needs more hiring, I hear,” Boryz followed on that humorously.

“Direct supply is rarely feasible. The Gendarme do need their equipment, after all.” Mabel finished without acknowledging whether Boryz’s theory was true or false. “Information is also much easier to send across and back without being intercepted.”

“…Speaking of information, there have been attacks across the border lately,” you referred back to Gerovic’s continual varying-scale expeditions into your sector, “Have you heard anything of those..? Surely things have had to be moved up or through…”

“…You know, yeah,” Boryz said after a moment of thought, “A train coming up that got delayed ‘cause we messed with the tracks. About four tanks came up with some reinforcements. Probably ‘cause of the raid some nights back. The Netillians came across and smashed up a place, wasn’t close to here, but word of it sure got around. Hear it was a guy called Edelschwert. The battle a few days back, we heard Edelschwert was also in that one. The kids love him now, what with there bein’ the rumors of him bein’ a knight or something too. Sorta stuff that gives the little lasses the vapors.”

Nothing of Von Tracht? “…I see…”you looked back at Mabel, who had a sly look for just a moment, an expression you hadn’t seen on her yet. “Should I be worried about collaborators? Like the Revolutionary Front, but not so open about it…”

“Absolutely.” Boryz said, “If you didn’t come with Mabel you wouldn’t have gotten a peep about us. Can never be too careful.”

“…As a final question, what can be done to help your people? Besides supplying weapons…”

“Guns are always good,” Boryz innocently suggested, “But the more attention across the border there is, the less there is on us. Gives space to move, to breathe- to set up things what need setting up to set up other things, yeah? Though I guess, the kids always want for candy, clothes, life things. Man, Mabel, this guy’s suggesting that sort of stuff?” He looked back again, all the way, to the maid in plain clothing, “It’s luck good enough to make me suspicious if the King’s servant wasn’t handing it to us.”

“A farmer should know that chickens should not be counted before eggs hatch,” Mabel said warily, “We have a mission to attend to.”

“Can’t blame a man for getting excited.” Boryz directed his eyes to you with a smile, “What do you think, then? Asking about what we do, what help we need, you want in on a plan? Something big and showy we’ve been trying to cook up? It’d really show those slone what for, and that seems like your deal.”

>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.
>No, the whole purpose of this was to do things subtly. You’d have to decline that suggestion.
>Ask about something else?
>Other?

>>4195205
>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.
Maybe not quite all of our force, but making some kind of big attack would be an attractive proposition to the ERA, and it would probably draw out Gerovic into the open.
Trying to get him while he's sitting on the toilet seems harder since basically all we know about him is that he's cautious.

>>4195215
Well I say that, but he also takes random vacations across the border incognito

>>4195205
>>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.
I don't think we have enough time to go the subtle route considering there's still Bertram to deal with after this

>>4195205
>>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.

>>4195205
>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.

>>4195205
>No, the whole purpose of this was to do things subtly. You’d have to decline that suggestion.
Big and showy is nice, but is there a guarantee it will get Gerovic? If you act subtly, you can try again later in case of failure.

>>4195240
I think what they're planning here is different from our own plan to deal with Gerovic.

>>4195205
>No, the whole purpose of this was to do things subtly. You’d have to decline that suggestion.
We were warned about big showy stuff weren't we?

>>4195257
The Major was talking about the Netillians in that case I think. Don't think it applies to the Resistance

>>4195205
>No, the whole purpose of this was to do things subtly. You’d have to decline that suggestion.

>>4195205
Can we get more info about this plan before committing to anything?

>>4195205
>Big and showy meant you could use all the force you could assemble- and you’d need it. Sure.
I want to hear what the idea is at least, as long as agreeing to hear doesn't mean agreeing to help. If we want to use our weakened forces its probably best to piggyback off an already established plan than trying to cook something up on our own. As long as it isn't another get stuck in and fight to the death type idea it should be worth hearing.

>>4195216
>>4195342
To specify, yes, this isn't a commitment vote. You're just talking as of present.

>>4195351
Also one more question, how big is an ERA cell roughly?

I am up again.

>>4195215
>>4195216
>>4195219
>>4195222
>>4195232
>>4195347
I like a spectacle, tell me more.

>>4195240
>>4195257
>>4195297
Scaling back things a bit would be preferable, theoretically.

>>4196364
Also how many people in each kindergarten class.

Writing.

Sorry about the delay, just feeling like absolute shit this morning, I'll have things out soon.

“…That does sound like something I could support…” you lead off, but sensed that you weren’t expected to commit yet anyways, “…Will I find out more about it..?” Given that the last “big show” had apparently ended in near annihilation, you really weren’t interested in doing an exact repeat of what was described as happening before- you needed many more details before you’d say for sure what your preference was, but for now…

“In time, in time,” Boryz laughed, “Good to see some red blooded interest in causing a show, that’ll make you popular for sure.”

“…How many people are in a cell, anyways? Roughly, since you said there were eleven at that one place…”

“Depends. Sometimes there’s ten, sometimes there’s a hundred. All the ones at Lodjaw were between thirty and eighty each. Brought together a whole lot, they did.”

Yet after the fact barely any were left, apparently. For the blow done to the Twaryians, had the resistance not suffered a much greater one? For your own purposes, though, it was true that Alpha Two apparently did not target the Twaryian occupied territories. Would it be too pragmatic to utilize the quicker way to nab Gerovic for your own purposes at the expense of the resistance here?

A village began to come into view through the morning haze, and Boryz explained how things would happen. “Ever since Lodjaw the Twaryians don’t like undocumented folk. Our story is that you’re fresh labor that I’m taking to get new papers done for. Mabel’s already got her papers, so we’re fine for that. Workers have earlier curfew, but when I leave you off, you best not get seen out before or after you should be or you get thrown in prison, no questions asked. They want something of yours, they’re taking it, so keep anything you like stuffed away. If a soldier’s feeling rowdy and they get handsy with Mabel, you don’t interfere. You get caught with a weapon, you’re arrested. Start a fight, the same. Most of them don’t speak more than a few words of New Nauk so you won’t talk your way out of anything.”

The need for documentation and curfew was familiar, though the Netillians weren’t as strict as the Twaryians. Part of that was due to the UGZ structure- the Twaryians apparently didn’t have such a system, for better or worse.

“…It’s been how long since the invasion, will they believe somebody so far after needs papers..?” you asked doubtfully, though otherwise you’d…you didn’t know, have to be smuggled in a sack?

“They’re not complaining about people entering their system, if they choose to. ‘Course, we’re not actually going to sign you up for the rigmarole, it’s just what we tell people on the way until you’re in other hands. Until then, you have to move in the open, where the Twaryians are.”

At that point Mabel gestured to the scarf you had been wearing as part of a plainclothes disguise. “Make your face less apparent. There is a bounty upon you, after all.”

Ah. Right. You pulled your scarf over your nose and tugged a cap lower over your brow, and hoped it wouldn’t make you look suspicious in this weather. It might have been better to simply hope that not every Twaryian was intimately acquainted with who was who on the head hunting list. Though you also couldn’t help but wonder if recent events had helped cool any passion towards catching you- the only thing you’d really done recently was a defensive action, after all.

The village was drawn near, and five black-coated Twaryians walked up to meet the wagon, their leader holding up a hand. “Halt-halt!” he said with a thick eastern accent, his face mostly hidden beneath a black kerchief. After Boryz had stopped the horses, the Twaryian said further, “We check, get down. Get papers.”

“Alright, alright,” Boryz sighed, “Don’t know the point, you bunch know me, don’t you?”

“Get paper.” The Twaryian insisted as the rest of you got out of the wagon, the other Twaryians poking around it. He pointed at you, and asked Boryz as the latter was taking out a small book of papers, “Who that.”
“New worker, getting papers at Dymny.” Boryz said for you.

“Tupoyeretiki Nis delateshi prazsche.” The Twaryian said scornfully, “What you have.”

“Pickled stuff. Food for market.”

The Twaryian barked something at the pair of his fellows inspecting the inside of the wagon, and they said something that sounded like an affirmative. A specification on something- the same affirmation. Another pair had apparently decided they were done looking around and under the wagon, and had taken to standing in front of Mabel. One asked a question that must have both been of a rude nature and one meant to take advantage of an inability to understand their language, as they both guffawed after it was asked. A sharp reprimand from their leader cooled their quips, but they still snickered.

“Go along,” the team leader waved you all off, “Get move.”

You all mounted back on the wagon, and you wondered why you hadn’t been frisked. Maybe it was more work than was required? In any case, it meant they hadn’t found your pistols hidden on you and Mabel’s persons. She hadn’t mentioned what Boryz felt had to be said about being found with weapons on you- maybe it was just extremely unusual to have a body search carried out so long as you were merely walking around.

The village itself was a homely place, well kempt but quite desolate and empty in feeling, as though people preferred to stay inside, save for a few that pulled away from the wagon as it passed through.

“We are just passing through here,” Mabel told you furtively when you were well through the place, “This village was subject to reprisal after a failed heist upon an armory. Many denizens were arrested and those left want nothing to do with the ERA.”

“…So how far away are we..?”

“One more village, then our destination.”

The dirt road between the two villages yielded no patrols- the Twaryians must not have been morning sorts, or it was merely a low priority area. Perhaps an answer lay in that the troops garrisoning the next village were noticeably different, lacking the usual black wool half capes that Twaryians favored, and having red and white cloth badges pinned to their fronts.

“Revolutionary League Militia Police,” Mabel explained to you before you were too close, “They do not report directly to the Army of Twaryi.”

From the disposition of the men, they were also far less disciplined. Those that paid attention stared blankly at Boryz’s wagon as it rolled on, rather than demanding a stop and search. Maybe they assumed somebody further up had done that anyways. Boryz didn’t even slow the wagon as you slipped in one side of the village and out the other, though on the way down the final stretch of road you passed by the odd sight of a single Twaryian, on horseback of all things. A courier, perhaps?

The third village, guarded by a few Revolutionary League people, but instead of being passive, they actually greeted Boryz.

“Ho there, Boryz,” a Revolutionary League uniformed militiaman called out as the wagon slowed to within a few paces, “I see you’ve got your Niece here, that your Nephew?”

“Maybe my niece’s husband, ha ha.” Neither you nor Mabel reacted to that joke, but maybe it wasn’t intended to be at your expense, as you noticed the Revolutionary League man frown. “He needs new papers. Can I get a favor, or are there any other visitors right now?”

The man shook his head, “Nah, come along, both of you, we’ll take care of our business in the Hall. Hey,” he got the attention of the other guard attending the road, “Keep watch out here, I’ll be right back.”

So you and Mabel were lead towards a dilapidated looking town hall- an odd size for a village like this, but judging from the frames and ruins on the outskirts, maybe this place had been bigger, once. Inside the place you went- and it was unlit and empty, only made dim by light streaming in through windows so cracked it was a wonder they hadn’t fallen to pieces.

The doors shut behind you, and the guard took a deep breath, before taking off his black cap. “So, I guess you can guess what the deal is here, right?” He turned back to face both of you and leaned on the wall, pockets in hand. This village isn’t really important. Place got messed up even before the war, just by a plain old fire, and nobody bothered building it back up again. A place nobody cares about is a decent place to put nobody Revolutionary League arse heads who just need to be given something to do. We can practically do whatever we like.” You got the feeling this was explained for your benefit, and you got practical confirmation of that when the guard removed a hand from a pocket and gestured in your direction. “So who’re you? I know Mabel, but you’re a new face.”

>Who are you?

>>4197138
At the risk of sounding stupid if I'm wrong, I'm assuming this guy is actually ERA right? Then let's go with the honest approach:
>Coordinator Richter von Tracht, currently attached to the Netillian Army from Strossvald.

>>4197173
Supporting

>>4197173
+1, what could possibly go wrong ?

>>4197173
+1

>>4197138
What were we called way back in Todesfelsen that one time? Sieg?
Sieg with friends just across the border.

I'm just worried about collaborators spreading rumors that the Coordinator isn't home. We definitely sound foreign enough that we can't pull off Ellowian, Netillian or Twaryian.

Could always go back to the Emrean accent I guess.

>>4197138
Just in the interest of covering our bases, I say we steal Von Metzeler’s identity for a bit. Unless he has a bounty on him too, in which case maybe we are Lee Manner. Other than that, just saying something like “Winter is shaping up to be a real pain in my ass so I’ve asked Boryz for some help”. If he needs more info there’s plenty of half truths we can say about getting desperate and probably not going to make it much longer without help.

>>4197234
>>4197238
I'm not sure about Mabel though. She knows who we are after all and I'm not sure whether she'd just out our true identity if we try to bluff this one.

>>4197173
>>4197200
>>4197214
>>4197228
Straight up and honest. Honesty will get you everywhere, right?

>>4197234
Go with an old fake name.

>>4197238
Pretend to be taller, stronger, and possessed of better taste in women :^)
No, he does not have a bounty on him.

Alright then, writing.

>>4197408
>possessed of better taste in women :^)
Questionable considering Yva

>>4198210
>implying

Claiming to be somebody you weren’t would have been more clever, but at the same time, did you have much reason to be somebody besides yourself? Best to keep trustworthy, by introducing yourself truthfully. “…I am Coordinator Richter Von Tracht, of the Archduchy of Strossvald, attached to the Netillian Army…”

The Revolutionary League Guard, now quite apparent as a disguised ERA insurgent, or a double agent, squinted at you, then at Mabel. “Huh?” Back to you. “Oh, yeah. Your description sketch drew you better looking than you turned out to be.”

You didn’t expect that to sting as much as it did, considering the wounds to your eye and face now- were you disfigured, now? Maddalyn might have been blind, but she didn’t deserve an ugly husband… “…It has been an interesting past pair of weeks…”

“He needs to be introduced to the Grandmaster, then to the cell leaders nearest to Dymny.” Mabel laid out flatly, “That I am here with him should expedite that.”

“Well, yes, but,” the fellow was suddenly flustered, “It’s not like we know where he is all the time, you know, we just-“

“Then summon him,” Mabel let a flash of irritation show through grit teeth, “One who calls himself Grandmaster should not insult his majesty by not being ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Alright, alright,” the ERA/Revolutionary Leaguer said hurriedly, “I’ll try, but, I’ll take you downstairs first, alright? Let this Coordinator guy meet some of the guys and all.” He led you to the basement, which was covered in such a depth of detritus and junk that it seemed impossible to move a step beyond the stairs down, but a trail was somehow navigated to a space where, facing a wall, there was a suggestion of a tunnel downwards. “Go ahead down there, and when you get to the wooden door, give the bell above the doorframe a ring, then another. They’ll open for you. There’s always somebody there.” He paid more attention to Mabel than you, a concerned furrow in his brow. “You need anything, Mabel? I can get-“

“Get the Grandmaster.” Mabel said curtly, not budging an inch.

“…I’ll see what I can do,” the man sighed, trudging his way back over the debris.

The tunnel down was completely dark, and while feeling around you thanked the Judge above that the Fear didn’t seem to work with claustrophobia, as you steadily squeezed about further and further down a tunnel of absolute black until you touched what felt like wooden planks, with a line of light so dim at the floor you could only differentiate it because it wasn’t darkness. Above the doorframe…right? There wasn’t a chance that there was a booby trap waiting, right? There was-

“Ring the bell.” Mabel commanded from behind.

“Ah…” You felt above the frame, ran your hand down it, and felt a loose cord. A pull…and a soft ringing.

“…Again.” Mabel said, after a few seconds, and you promptly obeyed.

Only a moment later, the door was yanked open, and you shielded your eyes from the sudden light, wincing, and trying to keep your eyes open a crack to see what was beyond.

“…Who’re you?” a young female voice trying to make itself sound low and scratchy asked, “Oh, you’re with Mabel? Get in here!” A tug on your sleeve, and you dumbly followed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your other hand as you were pulled along without regard to little things like simple introductions or explanations. Mabel being with you certainly skipped quite a few steps, and why wouldn’t it? She was Wladysaw’s maid, after all. Was she something else too, you wondered.

“Who’s this bum?”

“He looks like a wimp!”

Confidence wasn’t running high for you either, though such feelings were returned in kind eternally- these voices were all adolescent at best. When your eyes had adjusted again, you looked about at the youths that now surrounded you and Mabel- you were distantly reminded of the Ashes, but only somewhat older in general by a couple of years. They were clothed in scrappy and dusty rags that formed approximations of cloaks to guard against the winter, weary in posture and almost universally afflicted by a wound, either small or large, and though their eyes held a glimmer of determination, peering around at a few, you saw something different, unknown, but disturbingly familiar all the same. Their injuries were varied- one young man had received such a blow to his face that in healing badly one half slipped far below the other. Another’s arm terminated into a stump at the wrist, and another had a ragged mess of flesh where an ear should be, scarred flesh reaching around to their face from there. Besides the ones around you, there were others spread all about a space about twenty by twenty meters around, with cloth partitions between rooms going out like spokes on a wheel, crude structures supporting a ceiling that was uncomfortably close to your head, making you reflexively hunch down. None about looked to be above the age of fifteen at best.

“This is Von Tracht,” Mabel told the gathered disheveled children, none of whom even came up to your shoulder, “Coordinator for the Netillian Army. His responsibility includes overseeing Ellowian candidates to join the Gendarmes- he was involved in foiling a plot to assassinate his majesty, and the King has sent him to handle an enemy of the crown.”

Any jeers or doubt suddenly lifted like night banished by the sun, and a reverent quiet replaced it all. “Long live the king,” one of the young fighters said quietly, but enthusiastically, echoed by most of the others. It was a completely opposite tone to that you’d heard so often at mention of the Leech King- this band of dirty, bruised youths had a level of respect even above that which most Stossvalders had for the Archduke- perhaps greater respect than Imperials had for their Kaiser, even?

“Are you a knight of the king?” the scratchy voiced girl from before asked- a second look at her revealed her to be boyish to the point that you really weren’t sure what she was, and the rampant acne blemishes didn’t help matters.

“…Sort of…” The Von Trachts held the title of Ritter, but such wasn’t precisely what one of these children might call a knight, per se, as they were not bound to any but the dominion of the Archduchy, and were especially not in service to King Wladysaw. That was rather much to explain, and reveal, so you stuck with your noncommittal wording until Mabel requested anything more.

“This is the Order of White Shroud,” Mabel told you as all these worn down children did their best to stand straight, “Much of the Eastern Resistance Army consists of such Orders, founded upon a vow to the Republic, or the King.”

“The Republic failed the people of Ellowie!” the one-eared lad proclaimed, “His Royal Highness and his line always had the people and their defense in mind. The Republic had their chance, and they lost.”

“Who’s he gonna get?” A voice you couldn’t see demanded, but no answer was forthcoming as Mabel waved her hand out and the Order parted like wind blew about sand.
“We are waiting here for the arrival of the Grandmaster,” Mabel told the lot, “Do not disturb Von Tracht in the meantime.”

Some disappointment, but no objections were raised as Mabel pushed past you and led you to one of the spoke rooms- a modest place with an old table and four stools around it. The walls were tacked up with photographs- far more than you guessed would have belonged to those who were presently here.

“They would offer that you eat the food here, but they are already quite low on such, and will likely not get more for some time,” Mabel gestured to a pair of crates that were all but empty- appropriated preserved military rations, apparently.

“…Where are the adults..?” you asked.

Mabel pointed upwards. “Most do what they can to give a place to stay, to ensure that there are Orders at all. Most of them are like this in the Border Zone. After the Lodjaw Massacre and the reprisals that followed, most of those who remain are those with no other place to go. No hope save for that in his majesty. They want to fight, they will do so without question- some of them have already taken a life. There is no elite stock or special reserve of fighting men ready to do the bidding of the king. Not anymore. Only people like these.” Mabel stared icily into your eyes, “What do you think, then? You went along with Boryz’s rowdy talk earlier of another great battle, but do you see how it would look different to that, now? I am no guardian of morals. I only wish to serve his majesty. I would still like to know just what you think of what you now see.”

>If this was all there was, then that was reality. There was no point in denying it. After all, where else did they have to go?
>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.
>Other?
Also-
>You have time to wait for this “Grandmaster.” Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order? Do some other thing?

>>4198329
>>If this was all there was, then that was reality. There was no point in denying it. After all, where else did they have to go?
I don't expect Richter to exactly like using kids, but firstly they're not going to give a crap about our opinion and two we really need their help for this.

>You have time to wait for this “Grandmaster.” Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order? Do some other thing?
Ask her how's she's been in the King's service for so long considering her age. Is it like hereditary service or something?
Also if the manpower situation is this terrible what the heck was the point of Lodjaw?

>>4198329
>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.


>You have time to wait for this “Grandmaster.” Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order? Do some other thing?
Do Twaryians know this is what ERA looks like now?

>>4198329
>>If this was all there was, then that was reality. There was no point in denying it. After all, where else did they have to go?

>>You have time to wait for this “Grandmaster.” Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order? Do some other thing?
Anything I should know about the Grandmaster before we meet?

>>4198329
>If this was all there was, then that was reality. There was no point in denying it. After all, where else did they have to go?
Doesn't make it morally right though.

>You have time to wait for this “Grandmaster.” Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order? Do some other thing?
So you agree that another big clash like Boryz was talking about would be unwise then?

>>4198329
>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.

>>4198329
>>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.

Doesn't mean we can't use their help though. They don't have to man a gun, they could plant traps or cause distractions before fading away. All we really need is a guaranteed way to get Gerovic where we want him.

>Other?
Investigate the pictures, how many have they lost here?
Do they seem armed? The guns we looted would help a lot I think.
Maybe ask them how familiar they are with the territory and the movement of Twaryian armored patrols.

>>4198329
>>If this was all there was, then that was reality. There was no point in denying it. After all, where else did they have to go?
>Do you want to ask anything of Mabel or the Order?
Do they know about Gerovic here, and if so, what? Do they have any experience with tracking or assassinating Twaryian officers?

>>4198329
>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.
I agree with the people saying we can still use them, but this question I think is talking about the "big and showy" plan, and it seems like there's not much we can actually show here.

>>4199778
If it's for the big battle Boryz was mentioning then I'm willing to switch [though I still want to hear what the heck it is]. There's no way we can leave them out of going after Gerovic directly though

>>4198329
>These were no soldiers, no fighters. They could call themselves whatever Order they liked, but it was unacceptable to use them as fodder for guns.

>>4198337
>>4198359
>>4198388
>>4198831
Why deny reality?

>>4198347
>>4198617
>>4198661
>>4199778
>>4199955
Yet there are certain limits, in an ideal world.

In addition to other things.
Writing, though again I'd expect only one update today, I've got a lot to get done today for other things that I not so wisely put off.

>>4200156
>Today
Kek. It's alright though take your time

Coming to a conclusion was more difficult than you first expected. On one hand, it wasn’t acceptable for children to be made to fight, no matter if they were called soldiers or organized into orders in some twisted mockery of actual knights. On the other, was there really a choice for them, if they didn’t want to surrender? Where else would they go? Was there anywhere? In the end, even though they were no soldiers, no fighters, and it would be irresponsible to consider them such, they could at least help, and they most likely hardly cared about what you thought anyways. Like Anya trying to manage the Ashes by giving them smaller tasks, you could- ah, you needed to get this done and go back to visit them didn’t you, or else Anya would certainly kill you…

“…From what I can see,” you told Mabel finally, “There isn’t much sense in a repeat of another battle like Lodjaw…these children cannot be allowed to be fodder for guns, yet…they cannot simply hide away in a hole, either…”

“They would not hide, anyways.” Mabel told you, “The Ellowian spirit is not so easy to cow, even if that would be more convenient for the victor of the day. For better or worse.”

“…So I suppose that plan Boryz was talking about would be unwise..?” You guessed of Mabel, though she didn’t appear to approve even when he spoke of it in the wagon.

“If all one wanted to do was die gloriously, by all means, it would be wise,” Mabel said tonelessly, calm and level, “I would at least want it to be planned to not be a repeat of past events.”

“…What was the point of this Battle of Lodjaw, anyways?” you asked, “Boryz said how it went, but…what was the objective? If the manpower situation is so bad now…”

“A show of force,” Mabel explained, though her voice had a tone of dissatisfaction, “The Resistance felt powerful, and their leaders wanted to test how strong they were. Despite the Ellowian Army itself being unable to stop the advance of Twaryi in a stronger position, perhaps they wished to see if they could throw off the shackles themselves. His Majesty thought to advise conservatism- but the fervor was strong, and he did not wish to appear weak. I advised it in his place regardless.” Just to test their strength? To gain nothing else? From your perspective it sounded a waste, and perhaps its glorification was to hide that.

“The Twaryian Army and their Revolutionary pawns were indeed surprised and wounded by the battle. There is no doubt that more than a few political careers were ended, and the ERA did maintain the field for several days- the battle itself was a victory of sorts when looking at appearances alone, but it was not a victory that could hope to be repeated, especially with the reprisals and new policy afterwards. Many adult former fighters who were left abandoned the movement to care for their friends and family, leaving what was left of the disparate groups even weaker. They are still out there- perhaps a plan for another large battle is meant to be a call to them to come back to the cause, but another Lodjaw would destroy the ERA.”

That much was easy to agree upon, but did the Eastern Resistance Army think so? Did their current stock of “fighters” think that? You looked over the photos on the wall- they didn’t…actually appear to be casualties, from what you could first tell. Not unless entire families joined the cause, as you recognized some of the kids in a few of the photographs.

Mabel noticed where your attention went. “There are orphans, but not all of them are such. Some ran away. Some were lost, but their pictures remain there. It is a wall of memories- and in a way, it is sacred. Pictures have been placed there since the beginning, some have moved away from here, but none are ever taken down.”

“…I’m curious about you,” you hoped you weren’t being too forward with Mabel, but considering she was your lifeline in this place, you thought you should try and be acquainted. “Eleven years in the King’s service? How old are you? Mid-twenties maybe..?”

“Around that.”

Maddalyn was in her mid-twenties now- you hoped that wasn’t an age where women started feeling older for it. “…So you worked for Wladysaw when you were so young?”

“His Majesty the King, Wladysaw,” Mabel said, suddenly severe, “…I was first in his service over a decade ago, him not much older than I, while the Royal Family was still exiled, their fortune decided by the whims of Vynmark nobility. My family were traditionally servants to the Royal Family, but the time away from the homelands had poisoned their ambitions, set them against one another, in addition to the dangers of rivals and anarchists wishing to make a name for themselves. I was Wladysaw IX’s servant, but also his bodyguard.”

You glanced up and down Mabel skeptically- she was physically fit, yes, but still a woman, and not a large one. “…A bodyguard and a maid is an odd combination…”

“The times demanded we be both.”

“…I did not notice you at the Langenachtfest social…”

Mabel made a sudden, unexpected unpleasant expression at that, but cooled off. “His Majesty has been returned to the throne. He has others to mind after his safety, so that servants may not tend to his needs…” A hint of wistfulness? “It is unimportant, anyways.”

Even you knew that that was an implied sign of saying drop it. So you returned to the subject of the ERA. “…Do the Twaryians know of the ERA’s current status? By all accounts I’ve heard they remain quite distracted despite everything…”

“There has been a change in operation priorities,” Mabel shifted her glasses with a finger, “Harassment and sabotage has increased a substantial amount precisely to hide how much weaker the organization has become; more than was done in its prime, as during those times strength was being saved rather than used. Overcompensation, if you will, but it has worked, has it not?”

“…How able are they to do those missions..?” You hadn’t noted any armories on your way in.

“Weaponry is in short supply- it often has to be rotated. Reserves tend to be lacking, and ambushes are often as much to replace weaponry as it is to attack the enemy. Agents like you saw above are hardly much a source of materiel either, though that would be much to ask of them anyways.”

From the subject of arms, there was a clear next point. “…How common are more violent actions? Assassinations, for example…or tracking them, perhaps…”

“High profile assassinations invite stricter reprisal.” Mabel said simply, “Information collection is not handled by the young. They lack the necessary caution. I suppose this is relating to Gerovic, though?”

“…It is. How significant is he to the Eastern Resistance Army..?”

“How significant is Gerovic?” Mabel echoed, “He prefers to direct his attentions over the border, but he is not unknown to the Eastern Resistance. He has had a habit of empowering the Revolutionary League militias with a surplus of materiel wherever he goes. Beyond that, he is...hm. How should one put this…quite odd for a Twaryian. He has been noted to be social with Ellowians, generous, even. He is an enemy, but one difficult even for the Eastern Resistance to despise like the others.”

“…Social..?”

Mabel straightened her back and cleared her throat with a small cough, “He is secretive when present, but in looking where he has been and is no longer, he has a fondness for…prostitutes. Just one at a time, wherever he has lingered. Before you ask, no, it is not known who he has a fondness for at present. Finding him save for by happenstance is difficult, and most are not motivated to track him, besides. Some prefer him to be directing attention across the border, provoking the Netillians, rather than inwards.”

Hopefully that wouldn’t be a barrier in getting help removing him. “…What is the Grandmaster’s opinion? In fact…tell me about him. Should I know anything about the Grandmaster before we meet..?”

“More would be said by meeting him,” Mabel sniffed, “But as far as before that, he is an immensely proud man- but not an idiot. He can take flattery as an insult, and if you introduce yourself as nobility, he will expect to be treated as an equal. It matters not that he was ennobled from being a silversmith by the last king, who was in exile. He is a charismatic leader, but not possessed of the best sense of caution. Lodjaw was his project- he is the architect of this attempt to repeat it. I would expect him to ask a favor in return for a favor, of course. He is also eccentric in appearance. As sensitive as he is to insult, try not to react inappropriately.”

“…Does he have a wretched fashion sense..?”

“He calls himself the Grandmaster, and prefers not to allow his face to be seen by many, even those he leads. So he wears a full suit of steel armor, and a fully enclosed helmet.”

That sounded utterly preposterous. You couldn’t think of anything that could be more noticeable to those searching for him short of dressing up as a clown and prancing about in broad daylight, so he must have only donned his costume when meeting with his own people. Yet he was the leader, and apparently commanded respect. Maybe the children appreciated the performance of it all.

“As for what he thinks of Gerovic?” Mabel crossed a leg over the other, “Gerovic is of Twaryi, and more, of Caelus as well. The Grandmaster believes that especially now, any hint of the east across the sea should be ejected fully from the continent, regardless of individual character.”

A more radical opinion than you’d heard of most. After that, though, Mabel was called away by one of the Order, and left you- you had wanted to ask about movements and patrols, but perhaps Mabel was the wrong one to ask that of anyways.

Time went by slowly, and you found yourself looking over the photos more deeply- then lying about, wondering if the Grandmaster would please hurry up. Yes, you were arriving on rather short notice, but how busy could he be? Before you knew it, you were napping.

-----

You dreamed of Maddalyn- you stood in a field in spring, with grass and warm sunshine, her in a light, pearl-white sun dress that bared her neck and shoulders. You wanted to touch her- embrace her, but when you stepped forward she was ever a few paces far.

“Richter,” she asked, a pitiful look on her face, “When will you come back?” You tried to speak, but no sound came from your lips. “Why won’t you come back? Don’t you…don’t you love me?” Maddalyn’s eyes widened in distress, “Why? Why do you love the Archduchy more than me? Why do you love death and war more than me? Am I so terrible? Am I such a burden to you?”

Still, nothing could be spoken; your lungs were empty of air to form words with.

“You hate me!” Maddalyn cried, “You hate me, and you won’t say it! Everything would have been easier if I just died!”

Her chest sprouted a splotch of red, and it spread across her white dress as she slumped to the grass, an invisible gunman and silent gunshot leaving a mortal wound from nowhere. Still, you could not walk, nor run, not even crawl to her.

-----

Your blood felt like it had turned to ice when you shot awake, Mabel tapping your shoulder.

“He is here,” she said flatly, “He will be received in the common room.”

The haunted look could not have left your face as you trudged into the center space once more, the Order lined up as neatly as one could demand, silent and stern, in rows and columns. Not a whisper was being spoken- who could say if this discipline was standard, or reserved for the Grandmaster.

The sound of his approach was unmistakable- he did not use the undignified entrance you had been made to, and instead clanked down deliberately from another way. He was of broad stature, when you looked down the way and saw the dim light revealing him, and not tall, but certainly not short. A black cloak rippled behind him off of shoulders encased in gleaming pauldrons. From head to toe he was encased in shining steel plate like a knight of half a millennia ago, his helmet but having a broad slit for vision and another with holes at its side for breathing. Said helmet had a brilliant silver eagle at its crown, its wings sweeping forward, a fierce look upon its beaked visage. The feathered portions had been painted intricately in blacks- the helm was by far the fanciest piece of the set, though no piece of the armor had been neglected in quality. It all fit him perfectly as well, it appeared. Would a silversmith have been wealthy enough for such an indulgence, or did he fashion it himself, you wondered. Even you knew blacksmithing was really not the same as silver smithing despite also being metalwork, and yet…

“Brave fellows of the Order of the White Shroud!” He boomed in a deep voice, “Be at ease.” The Order loosened, by command you suspected rather than truly relaxing. “This must be the guest of His Majesty,” the Grandmaster strode confidently forth to you, “I am the Grandmaster of the Knightly Orders of the East, humble Representative of the Cathedra upon the world and the Judge on high in these blighted times, Sir Ottoslaus Von Srebo. May I know of your personage, and the mission you have come to accomplish? I have heard such from messengers, but I would hear it from yourself.”

>What do you tell of your personage and mission?
>Ask or say anything in particular when you have taken him aside?
>Other?

>>4202585
>>What do you tell of your personage and mission?
Coordinator Richter von Tracht of Strossvald, here to capture or kill one Captain Andrej Gerovic.
>Ask or say anything in particular when you have taken him aside?
How do you manage to bring that armour around with you without people noticing?

>>4202592
+1
I swear the Ellowian nobles we've met so far are even more obsessed about knighthood than even von Metzeler is.

>>4202592
Supporting

>>4202585
>Coordinator Richter von Tracht of Strossvald, here to capture or kill one Captain Andrej Gerovic.
>KEEP QUIET about the armor

>>4202707
Actually yeah changing to keep quiet about the armour for now. Who knows if it'll set him off

>>4202707
+1

File: Spoiler Image (236 KB, 500x540)

236 KB PNG

>>4202585
Seconding this >>4202707

>>4202585
We really oughta send that letter to Maddy before the duel, just in case.
>>4202707
Supporting
>Other?
I would only add that Richter should use every ounce of dignity that he can muster similar to when he used to interact with the nobility of Strossvald.
Richter might not be as high strung as he could have been created at the start of the quest but his lineage should help out in this instance.

>Ask or say anything in particular when you have taken him aside?
Mention we have weapons to give him and (depending on the plan we work out for removing Ger-Bear) armor assets that could cause some havoc.

>>4202806
Let's wait and see what he wants before we offer anything, I don't want him getting ideas about launching another big battle until after we're gone

>>4202585
>>What do you tell of your personage and mission?
We are Coordinator Richter von Tracht of Strossvald, and we believe we have a mutual interest in the death of Captain Andrej Gerovic. We were recommended to meet with you by the courtesy of His Majesty King Wladysaw, in the hopes that we could unite our efforts and resources to see this accomplished.

The Captain had gone to the brothel in town for the morning, preferring to start his days with such, to keep the mind clear. He had felt plenty clouded lately, but he never left with such a feeling within- it was curative, like a hot bath and steaming fresh made ukha for the outside and in. It wasn’t the act, though, like so many thought, but it was fair for some to just want to eat their bread and salt and never learn to make better.

Lucia was thirty three years old, but what afflictions aging had done to her appearance had been kind, and she was lovelier for the lines around the face there were, the few gray hairs she did not bother hiding in her long, golden brown waves that fell past her shoulders. The Captain had been amused, then enchanted- some might say that paying for a relationship was a fool’s game, but prostitutes always understood far better when it was time for him to leave. He’d learned of her life- her once husband dying years past, taking care of a young son with government aid, and when the Republic fell and Twaryi felt less generous, she had decided to use her beauty to earn coin. Her son had disapproved, and ran from home- she still labored in case he came back.
Perhaps there were lies somewhere, but the Captain doubted it. Such was the sort of person he saw.

He went to her, then they went to her room, and he lay with her. Then to the showers to get cleaned up- and they did it again in there, then back to the room where the shower was promptly undone- after pulling on the bottom halves of their underclothing, Lucia and the Captain had broken out a game on the small table in the bedroom then, a words and letters game the Captain had found. His native language had a different alphabet as well as words, so it was a useful learning tool even now. Lucia was a well learned woman, after all, and despite the Captain being incredulous at a few words she pulled out she had never cheated.

“No sign of Leon, still?” the Captain inquired as he watched Lucia lay out eight letters and draw to replace them, a smug look on her face telling him her lead on points this game was there to stay.

“No,” Lucia said with a sigh, “He hates your sort as is, and with what I do, he feels that much more disgrace. Some day he will understand the world better. I know plenty of people who think the way he does still, not aging a day in decades. He would sooner have starved, and I disagreed- someday, he will see. Every child makes mistakes, and any good mother will forgive them for it.”

“Mm,” the Captain took his turn, taking his eyes off of Lucia’s heavy, naked breasts, and laid out the letters to spell tits.

Lucia looked at the word, then smiled softly at the Captain. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re childish as well.” She put out her next word and defeat was practically sealed.

“Am I not childish, though? Ah, would you prefer this one?” the Captain laid out sex.

Lucia laughed, and got up, “I see I have to cover myself, I’m distracting you.” The Captain got up after her as she walked towards the bed to put on a blouse laid at its foot, caught her, and wrapped one arm around her waist as he slipped his fingers in the waistband of her panties and began to pull them down, pushing her onto the bed. “Ha ha ha,” Lucia laughed again, and pushed the Captain off her, giggling, “No, no. Three times, and now another Andrej? The way you’ve been these past days? You’re going to break me. You’re wearing me out.”

“Would you prefer I go get somebody else?” the Captain teased her, as he released her and allowed her to put on her top.

“Ha. You’ve been so energetic lately,” Lucia said as she buttoned herself up, “What’s been on your mind?”

“A foe, a rival, perhaps,” the Captain said lightly, like the subject was how it was sunny out. “I thought I had the better of him, but at the last moment fortunes turned. It’s hardly a bruise to my ego, but now I have to think of how I can lure him to fight. My last attempt, my vehicle was the very first to be disabled, and I was robbed of the chance to show the famed Kommandant my own mettle.”

A coy smirk appeared on Lucia as she paused her buttoning, “So this whole day, you’ve been thinking of a man while screwing me?”

“Ha, I’ll make it up to you, if you’re jealous,” the Captain brushed Lucia’s shirt off her shoulder and let a breast fall out, which Lucia promptly set straight again.

“An utter scamp,” Lucia turned her body away and made for the table once more, “Can we at least finish our game?”

“You’ve practically won already,” the Captain sniffed, “I forfeit.”

“We were playing for two out of three. You would have had a chance this time had you spent your turns not making lewd passes.”

“Fine, fine,” the Captain accepted that he was not bartering on that front, “But you’ve already lost three for five. If I win these games, you agree for four out of seven. Hm, or rather, five out of nine?”

“Ha! Five out of nine.” Lucia sat at the table and gave a mocking scornful glare, “You’d better hope that confidence gets you two wins.”

>>4202625
>>4202696
Sup. Nice clanking.

>>4202707
>>4202715
>>4202720
>>4202754
A simple introduction, statement of purpose.

>>4202806
Attempt to carry self with gravitas. Possibly mention gifts?
>>4202841
But gauge interest first.

>>4203344
Mention his Majesty in introduction.

Writing, now.

>>4202806
>We really oughta send that letter to Maddy before the duel, just in case.
Along what line of communication, I wonder.

>>4204830
>>4204832
I bet her son is with us right now.

The imposing metal man expected a response- and you weighted what to give. He knew who you were already, from what he implied, so was it not obvious that you had to more fulfill expectations rather than just state your name? Despite that some might sneer at it, you were of noble blood- and would act like it. You drew yourself up high and straight, and made your shoulders as square as you could force them. It was uncomfortable- ever since the Fear had moved in you had felt better in a slouched posture, but that comfort would not do for this introduction.

“…I am Richter Von Tracht, Descendant of Helman the Silver Lance, of the Archduchy of Strossvald,” you started weak then seized on what ancestral pride you could quickly grasp at, “Assigned coordinator for the Armies of Netilland. I am here to act on what I believe is a mutual interest- the death or capture of Captain Andrej Gerovic. We were recommended to meet with you by the courtesy of His Majesty King Wladysaw IX Von Katski, that we could work together and combine our resources to see this accomplished.”

“Well met, Sir Von Tracht,” the Grandmaster said with aplomb, “If you come with His Majesty’s recommendation, then I am your ally against this Eastern Menace. Come! We have much to discuss.” The Grandmaster waved you and Mabel along to a side room, one that appeared specially sectioned off from the others- rather than a ragged curtain partition, it had a proper door. The Order, for their part, remained at stiff attention the whole time as you were escorted along with the armored man by his pair of unassuming presumed bodyguards, who were a severe contrast with their shabby clothes and tough mugs, a pair of fellows who wouldn’t be out of place in a crime drama as gangster muscle. When you were all in the room, you couldn’t help but feel a bit isolated- a man in a full suit of armor across from you, flanked by stern roughnecks, and at your flank what you presumed was a fiercely loyal maid with an odd capability of violence. Meanwhile, you, there and unsure whether you were about to ask something or have something demanded of you.

“So then,” the Grandmaster took off his helmet, and placed it on the table, a gesture of trust, presumably. He was a rather unassuming middle aged man, streaks of grey in his short hair under a hood, with round cheeks and a blunt chin, though with sharp, severe eyes. “Captain Gerovic. I’ve heard of his activities, but I confess, he has not been a priority. Where he is, the Twaryians and Revolutionary League gain strength. He draws resources to himself, and what he does not use, he distributes. Attacking him, you see, would be a significant commitment.”

“A more significant commitment than what plans are already being prepared?” Mabel asked flatly- she didn’t seem to have the same regard for the Grandmaster that she advised others showing. Perhaps she had already sullied a first impression?

“A commitment I would hope to have the help of the good Coordinator’s assets for,” the Grandmaster sternly stated, “Defeating the Twaryians at a position where they are strong would be a crushing blow- one the Resistance would benefit from, and one the Easterners could not hope to conceal as they did with Lodjaw, as Gerovic inhabits the border zone. It would take some time, though, to gather what we have…”

“…How much time?” you asked quickly. You didn’t have long. Too much time, and Bertram’s deadline would run out, and you’d suffer whatever consequences he had planned for those besides yourself.

“It is difficult to say off hand,” the Grandmaster wished to move on, clearly. “Alas. You are a military commander, come by recommendation of the King, escorted by one of his trusted servants. I shall defer to what plans you have first, then make my own suggestions as I see fit. If you have His Majesty’s trust, you have mine.”
Mabel continued to pay dividends, as did Wladysaw. Was this a favor you’d have to make up to him, you wondered. Though, if you were the one who apparently had the plan…you needed rather more information, didn’t you? “…I would have to adjust based upon what is available, information and materiel wise…”
“I would hear the basic plan, first,” the Grandmaster was unconcerned with such petty matters as what was plausible for what was available, “A battle? A distraction to draw him out? An all-out assault upon the town where he resides?”

>Trying to draw him out would be a good move. It could be made into a multilayered trap… (Anything more specific?)
>Collapsing everything upon Dymny was the idea- risky, but valor would carry the day, would it not? (More specification?)
>…You were actually more thinking of an infiltration. Surely that would be more effective than something loud and audacious? (Any further details?)
>Another sort of plan?
You’re still hammering this out between the two of you- this decision need not be final. In regards to such-
>Inquire about specific matters?

>>4205206
>>Another sort of plan?
Gerovic is a skilled military commander, and seems to have endless material resources at his disposal. It would be foolish to meet him on the battlefield where he is at his greatest strength. We would prefer to dispose of him by assassination. A grenade thrown through his window, a single well-placed rifle shot, a building-demolishing explosion; the method does not matter. We can provide firearms and explosives, we simply need your insurgents to serve as the eyes to locate Gerovic, and the hands to reach out and eliminate him when he is vulnerable.

>>4205206
>>4205240
This, also we know he likes his brothels. Get the kids or other double agents in the League to start keeping a lookout around all the establishments in town. It's probably one of the few times he doesn't have an escort with him.
>Inquire about specific matters?
How big is the Twaryian garrison in Dymny? Any nearby units that can respond quickly in case of any emergency?
What are the major structures there that he might be staying or hanging around? (e.g. HQs, barracks, officers' clubs etc.)

>>4205240
>>4205265
This

>>4205206
>Trying to draw him out would be a good move. It could be made into a multilayered trap… (Anything more specific?)

It sort of combines with attacking Dymny. My rough idea is that we make it appear we are targeting Dymny for a reprisal raid, maybe with the ERA hitting opportune targets like they want to soften them up for an armor attack and then veer off and charge the motor pool. That would be too valuable for Gerovic to simply let us destroy without trying to chase us and draw him away from his prepared fortifications. We could even have the ERA plant some traps along the route he'd like rush along to try and trap us between the motor pool and his reinforcements.

Previously it's been described that he has elaborate defenses around the main city and likes to misdirect enemies one way while really strongly hitting them with something else. A little turnabout is always fair, plus we know one area he is CURRENTLY (although not for long if we don't strike soon) weakened is his armor assets that he lost attacking us, plus his main tank might still be out of commission if we attack quickly enough and timed for the early morning.

Anything too elaborate with assassination is going to take time and despite how well the ERA knows the land we'd be relying on gung-ho teenagers to spy on a man that already almost wiped out the spies that only managed to successfully provide a blurry picture before being so scared of his capabilities that he fled the country.

>Inquire about specific matters?
tanq, I know it was in the last thread with the Major but could we get a basic overview she described of the units that Gerovic controls like his personnel command tank and the all female unit in Dymny? This would also be a good time to cross reference with the Grandmaster if our intel is missing anything.

>>4205408
This. The walls are closing in on this whole operation AND us in more ways than one. We have to be as expedient as possible.

>>4205240
>>4205408
Put both of these plans forward as options and see what's his response

>>4205206
Supporting
The simplest plan wouldbe to post a couple of lookouts in front of every brothel in the city, then summon a hit squad and hit him when he's coming out. No lengthy surveillance and preparation to give him no time to apply his terrifying anti-spy abilities.
But in any case we'll need a backup plan, or better three of them.

>>4205408
If we draw him out we'll have to fight him in a tank. I'd wager this will really increase his survival chances, and also make it hard to find him in the first place.

>>4206040
Also Gerovic also knows that we also probably took heavy losses during the battle as well. Launching a reprisal attack against such a fortified position so soon after the battle would be...unlikely.

Another important thing is we need to be able to confirm the kill. If there's a battle we probably don't have time to scour the wreckage for bodies.

>>4206068
Oh yeah looking back at last thread the Major gave us the details of the remaining IO agents in Dymny. Can we get into contact with them as well?

>>4206068
>Another important thing is we need to be able to confirm the kill
Oh, absolutely.
You just know that unless we personally see his severed head he'll survive.

I return.

>>4205240
>>4205265
>>4205295
>>4206040
Attempt to do things with some subtlety- find a weak point. His strength is in a proper battle, after all.

>>4205408
>>4205415

>>4205962
Mention both? Support one better, though, I suppose.

>>4206084
And also get in contact with those agents soon.
>>4205265
>>4205408
As well as information consolidation

Alright, getting to writing.

There was something of a plan you had already thought of, but you weren’t sure if the Grandmaster would like it. It took into mind that Gerovic was fearsome on the field of battle- without Edelschwert’s intervention, he very well could have overrun the camp and done Judge Above knew what. He was also unpredictable and resourceful when it came to having and using assets- and pulling them out without warning. Was it unsporting, in a way, to try and catch him unawares out of combat, to ambush him outside of where he was strongest? Yes, but you were rather fond of staying alive. If Gerovic bagged you while you were trying to do the same to him, you wouldn’t survive to face Bertram, you figured, and if you failed to nab him in the time you had left, the Intelligence Office wouldn’t help you with your “personal problem” either.

The alternative you thought of was just going all in on targets around Dymny to try and draw Gerovic into a fight. Risky, but you didn’t have time for grace, and you would rather not give Gerovic time to gain strength, either. Of course, the Grandmaster probably would like this on much better, as it struck right around the Twaryian’s strongest local base, but this plan would involve using your assets from your base, too. Though perhaps such an attack would embolden the Netillians like the Major advised you not to do? Yet if it might not, perhaps you could afford to roll the dice.

You’d share the infiltration plan first. It was, relatively, the safest and most elegant solution, after all. Though if it went poorly, you’d be in the weakest position…

“…I’ve two directions to approach this from,” you began, “Gerovic is a skilled commander, and his resources seem endless…it’d be foolish to meet him in battle where he is strongest. It doesn’t matter exactly how, but he needs to be assassinated, kidnapped…shot, blown up, whatever is the simplest way to get him out of the picture. We can provide the tools, so long as you have the hands and eyes to use them…”

The Grandmaster predictably frowned at that. “That is not quite what I had hoped to hear. What of it if he is skilled in warfare? Are you not his match? I know of Gerovic, but I do not think he is so fearsome as you imply he is. A mere assassination proves little…it does not inspire the masses to bravery, nor the foe to fear. His Majesty may have given you his support, but we have other priorities to take care of. Priorities that would leave you with some, yes, but less.”

You think he is not so fearsome? And how many times have you fought him? Admittedly, you had only properly encountered him, supposedly, once- and it had been the worst day of fighting you’d had in Ellowie. “…Well, there is a plan I am less confident of, as it is riskier…” it was not the one you preferred, but the Grandmaster may have needed some appeasement, if he was going to offer more than minimal aid, as he made the way he wanted to do things clear. “Once we know Gerovic is certainly in Dymny, we strike with all we have at valuable targets outside the town…and draw out Gerovic, before he has time to regain strength from his last battle…I could include forces from over the border, and frame it as a reprisal…” Though, the casualties you had taken were worse than Gerovic’s- you didn’t remember in what history you remembered if such a situation had ever been the preamble to a great victory, but you had your doubts. “Dymny’s defenses may be dense, but we have information on the location of multiple valuable targets, and any response force…could be interdicted upon in multiple ways, in responding to our attacks…”

The Grandmaster’s expression steadily warmed, “Ah, that sounds far more beneficial in the long run. You see, to defeat the Easterners in the field proves far more than it does to merely shoot somebody like a criminal or toss a bomb like a brutish anarchist. If one were to ask most people who Gerovic was, what answer would you receive? Yet if one laid claim to putting the enemy to flight when they claimed to be the victors…” The Grandmaster seemed to forget entirely about the possibility that you liked your other plan a fair bit better. Your outline of a plan- the precise elements remained to be figured out, in time.

“…Regardless, we should share what we know of the place, to make a proper decision on what direction to go…”

You had committed the IO’s report to memory well enough. Whilst there wasn’t particular mention of if Gerovic was a frequent visitor of army-provided amenities such as any Officer’s Club or the like (considering the tendency towards the theological the Twaryians preferred, perhaps he visited…you didn’t know, the steeple?) it was good to scope such places out anyways. Once you were close to Dymny again, in addition to getting a closer idea of the town's structure, you also had to find the IO’s remaining two agents, Eagle One and Eagle Two, there- a Launderer in the town, and a villager outside it. Their descriptions and code phrases were known, you’d just have to encounter them- such was your domain, though, as the Grandmaster was only told that you “had contacts” and not who or what they were. The Grandmaster wasn’t clear on what Twaryian units were in Dymny, but you were. The Dshvna Rifles’ Third Company, a typical line infantry unit. The Oblachnayagora Moskity, who were a company of motorized infantry- their strength, you knew, had been blunted in the latest battle. The final identified unit besides Gerovic’s tank company (called Unit Four, for whatever reason) was a company of the 20th Garnizon, garrison troops, notable for being a female unit. Why the Twaryians practiced such, you were unsure- presumably they were volunteers in the vein of Retinue? In any case, such was the spread of units around the area of Dymny, who inhabited the same general region as your unit did across the line. It was possible that other units could respond to a battle in the area- but it would certainly take them some time, and the battle would have to be extended, if they even decided to risk provoking their own counterparts across the border into taking advantage of an absence.

Unit Four’s tanks had been met in battle, of course, but you knew little else about them besides that Gerovic’s mount was a modified or newer model T-15; a dangerous opponent indeed, but one you didn’t intend to meet him in…at least not in a head to head fight.

As a fair trade, you and the Grandmaster told one another of roughly how strong each of you were in immediate access to troops- or, in his case, “troops.” You didn’t count the potential help you could call in, such as perhaps asking Edelschwert another favor, or another. As for the ERA, apparently, the area around Dymny and the areas adjacent to it could call up approximately one hundred twenty if everything was uprooted, though only half of that was actually properly armed. More could be called to the area over the course of several days if need be, as well, and when you inquired an estimate of how many could be brought up over two days…

“Approximately three hundred at maximum. Two hundred, conservatively,” the Grandmaster had had to ask his escorts a couple times about things you couldn’t quite hear, but he seemed confident of the number. If he had a shortfall in equipment anyways, you could arrange for your people to place the captured arms you still had in a place where the ERA could be pointed to. “I am of the mind that, even if we did not prepare for the maximum amount of time, there is the potential for glory. If you were to decide upon your other option, though…” the Grandmaster made a plaintive aversion of his eyes, “There are other plans that need to be attended to, and the resources needed cannot be diverted into something simple and small scale. I will give my blessing for the Order of the Red Arrow to be placed into your hands- the Order closest to Dymny- but nothing further. It should be all that is needed anyways. Twenty there, with hiding places…if you would prefer the plan to be for a battle, I would know now. I predict you will be moving along to the Red Arrow soon regardless, but if there is to be a great battle, preparations must begin now…”

>If he thought the grander battle would be better, so be it. Have the preparations begin.
>What support he was willing to grant was already a godsend. Thank him, but inform that you’ll be going along the line of subtlety over the grandiose.
>Insist on greater support for the sneaky plan. It would be for his benefit, wouldn’t it? (Argue how- he won’t just agree if you say pretty please)
>Come up with something else(What?)
>Other?

Sorry for taking all day, by the by. All my energy's vanished somewhere else today it seems.

>>4207651
Perhaps we could turn this into a quid pro quo? He helps us with the assassination plan, and we help him carry out the big battle anyway. Explain to him that it suits our interests that Gerovic be killed in the surest way possible, and also that capturing him would be of even greater interest, and much less possible if we engaged him in the field.
It's a bit of a waste for us to do the big battle after we've got/killed Gerovic, but sowing further chaos in occupied territory will help our eventual goal of aiding the Ellowian army, at least.

>>4207651
>>Insist on greater support for the sneaky plan. It would be for his benefit, wouldn’t it? (Argue how- he won’t just agree if you say pretty please)
Give us a couple of extra Orders and we'll release a portion of the captured arms to him (no need to tell them exactly how much we have). Point out whatever other plans he has will likely go much smoother if the rest of his guys are adequately armed, plus not having to risk assets scouring for more guns.

Otherwise I wouldn't mind this anon's suggestion >>4207680 either if there's enough support but I don't really trust the Grandmaster not to make it another suicide mission like Lodjaw.

>>4207699
this. to hell with your "inspire the masses" bullshit

>>4207651
>>4207699
Supporting

>>4207651
Tanq do we know if Gerovic's armour is located in town or are they based elsewhere like that motor pool we discovered?

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>>4207651
>>If he thought the grander battle would be better, so be it. Have the preparations begin.
>Other?
What if we combined it? We initiate a big attack and in the confusion his best infiltrators bag and tag Gerovic?

Also wait, he's not even gonna give us his best sneaky units? Can he at least elaborate on what the Red Arrow is comprised of besides 20 good men? Are any of them good at scouting/assassination? Or are they fucking teenagers again?

Because if the Grandmaster is relying on us to pull the trigger then we're fucked.

If we had Emma and Hilda then I'd say we wouldn't even need the Red Arrow but Hilda is gone and who knows where Emma turned into a monster and is eating people right now has gone to.

>>4207815
>Tanq do we know if Gerovic's armour is located in town or are they based elsewhere like that motor pool we discovered?

You do not know what the spread is, but the most likely answer is "both."

>>4207651
>>Insist on greater support for the sneaky plan. It would be for his benefit, wouldn’t it? (Argue how- he won’t just agree if you say pretty please)
Along the lines of >>4207680, explain that we would be perfectly happy to establish a long-term relationship with the ERA and support his aim of a grand battle in the future, but to plan and execute such an attack on such short notice, against Gerovic with four companies at his disposal against our single understrength company plus a couple hundred poorly armed insurgents, would simply be suicide rather than battle. Gerovic must be taken care of first; only once he is gone will we be free to provide the ERA the support they need to win a major battle.

>>4207651
>Insist on greater support for the sneaky plan. It would be for his benefit, wouldn’t it? (Argue how- he won’t just agree if you say pretty please)
This >>4207699, and also argue that without Gerovic any big battle they would attempt will go much smoother.

>>4207859
I mean the maid said it already:
>"There is no elite stock or special reserve of fighting men ready to do the bidding of the king. Not anymore. Only people like these.”

>>4208219
This is >>4207859

That's sort of what I mean, we are putting an awful lot of faith in people that seem less capable than the NLF.

I don't know if just having more of them will help, especially if an Order is just more teenagers with maybe 1 adult. Didn't we just say we didn't want to use these kids as cannon fodder? Does the Grandmaster actually expect Richter to be the one to go in and subdue/kill Gerovic or are we making them do that?
Now if he gave us Ex-ellowian soldiers or something that's different

>>4208407
I mean the NLF basically threw away most of their resources during the UGZ uprising as well, otherwise they wouldn't have made that deal with Gerovic or go after the Ashes.
As for ex-soliders I'd doubt the Resistance has that many adults left that can be spared from leadership and support roles like that double agent either. We don't need to throw away a couple of hundred lives to go after Gerovic but having more than twenty would be much better especially in searching for his location.

>>4208525
Sure, finding him might not be too hard but then who are we sending to nab him? I just want to hear from the Grandmaster that he has more than high schoolers to use for that, otherwise we actually need Richter to do the dirty work himself, and he couldn't fight a paper bag at this point.

I almost think the Grandmaster would actually just straight scam us for those guns unless we specifically ask for a dedicated assassin or two.

>>4208615
Shooting a guy point-blank from an ambush doesn't take that much skill.

>>4208621
Richter can't even hold a gun steady much less fire with skill. I wouldn't want to risk making that roll with his combat stats.

This is not even including how we escape that situation. Also doesn't Richter have an active bounty on his head? If they don't have a picture of him then that isn't so bad, but if they do then we can't even poke our heads out in Dmyny unless we ambush him at the motor pool or on the road.
I just don't want to trivialize how hard actually assassinating Gerovic will be, especially considering he's already defeated a number of previous would be assassins. There's a lot of unknowns when dealing with this Grandmaster guy, if he can give us a good Ops team as opposed to more nobodies then I'll happily shut up.

>>4208621
>Forgetting about the Big Iron on Gerovic's hip

>>4208687
If we're giving him time to shoot back at us something's obviously gone wrong.

>>4207680
Help me, I help you. Better to face him here than in battle.
>>4207699
I'll throw in a bonus to make the deal sweeter, too.
>>4207736
>>4207747
>>4207882
>>4207984
And the like.

>>4207859
Gattai.
Though the actual procedure is different from the majority vote, the issues and questions will still be addressed. If you're going to help each other, the Grandmaster can at least give you his best, can't he? Or at least not children?

Anyways, writing now.

Much as the Grandmaster obviously preferred a battle, it had more than a few catches you didn’t bother listing. The primary one was that you doubted your chances against what was unquestionably a numerically superior force to what either you or the Grandmaster could bring up, and that was without regards to the fact that the ERA’s forces were probably inferior even to the Garrison company stationed in the territory near Dymny. His distaste for the ambush plot was clear, but as far as you were concerned, that was the best possible option, as far as it came to dispatching Gerovic. You’d just have to sweeten the deal.

“…Prepare your troops, but,” you led off, “I plan to dispatch Gerovic the way I mentioned where precision is preferable…however, I do not plan for that to be the end of matters. Without Gerovic, the Twaryians will be in a weakened state- a more ideal one to prompt a larger battle in…If you help me take out Gerovic with the best of what can be offered, I promise my full aid to this battle, one you will also have more time to prepare for…as well as one hundred sets of varied, captured infantry equipment, as a token of goodwill…”

The Grandmaster was hesitant at first, but as you laid out additional conditions, he relaxed some. You were fine with establishing a long term relationship with the insurgent group, after all- you supposed he was apprehensive of you cutting and leaving. He did not speak immediately, instead giving Mabel a look, that was returned with a stare, then whispering something to one of his escorts. “I would be remiss to deny support, in these times,” he finally said slowly, “Very well. Gerovic first, a grant battle afterwards. I trust that we can easily organize such with the relations we have established.”

“…And you can allow additional aid to take care of Gerovic, then?” you didn’t let that point drop, “The Order of the Red Arrow…are they like the Order here? Have they skill at assassination and scouting, tracking?”

The Grandmaster blinked, looked sideways to the door, then back to you. “The Orders are quite alike, altogether. Eager and faithful. However, I suppose I see your point. The adjacent Orders shall receive letters of introduction. That should aid in free movement over the Border. I will also send for ten…no, eight of my own picked men, a few of them of the vaunted Phantoms- more than that, would be too many to do things with subtlety, I believe, and you understand, quite a bit to place at risk in one bucket such as this. You will have to wait a day for them, however.”

It would have to do. You’d need time to settle in anyways. Perhaps the IO’s agents could add to the roster of actual capable operators. You’d heard that all of their number were trained in combat- certainly more than any of the youths of the Orders at any rate. “…Thank you,” you cut it off there, “Your aid is well appreciated…”

“Yes, well,” the Grandmaster muttered gruffly, “The equipment you offered will be a great help to my own Orders. That can be expected quickly, yes?”

“…As soon as I can make contact across the border again…” As far as you were concerned, there was nothing to disagree about any more. Once you were known to the Orders around Dymny, you could finally cross back and forth again. Perhaps even bring back other people with you, for lack of operatives on the other side. “Thank you again, Grandmaster.” A bow. “I must depart for the Red Arrows now, I suppose…when I can go and meet them…”

“I will send along one of my representatives that are known to them. They are not as familiar with the King’s servants as those here, or as I. It would not do for you to have to earn their trust, or worse, be assumed as a spy or an enemy.” The Grandmaster stood, “I wish you luck, Sir Von Tracht, in your endeavors. I hope next we meet, it will be in the ashes of the Twaryian defeat.”

-----

Once more, you and Mabel were along, the morning sun climbing towards noon, with a new escort as Boryz was replaced by a Revolutionary League imposter. Things would be much simpler with him, the man called Larz insisted, though he added that without him, even getting close to where they needed to be could have been very risky. Eventually, you were led off the roads, to an utterly innocuous stone resting in a field by a pair of scraggly, unhealthy looking young trees- birches, with no leaves upon their branches.

“Alright, hold on,” Larz looked around quickly, before he went to the stone, took ten paces forwards, then five right…and stomped on the ground. One time, then four times, a pause, then twice more. “Now we wait.”

You didn’t have to wait long. A section of ground shifted, and a disheveled youth popped out of a trapdoor that had roughly a few centimeters of dirt and grass upon it, before the snow cover.

“Larz?” the young…oh, it was a young lady, from the voice. Another androgynous sort. “The boys are being gross. Can you tell them to stop?” She noticed you and Mabel, “Who are those? Friends?”

“A servant of His Majesty, and a friend of the Grandmaster,” Larz pulled out a pair of envelopes and presented them to the girl, “Give that to Odd Eyes, won’t you? And introduce these two. I’ll scuff things up again up here once you’re all down there.”

“You’re not visiting?” the young lady asked, disappointed, “But…okay. Hey, you two. Hurry up and get down here.” Much shorter with you and Mabel, then. As soon as you were down in the hole, the girl let the top slam shut again, and instead of darkness, you saw a hint of light down one of two ways. “Let me go first.” The girl pushed her way to the front, and led you and Mabel forth.

The hideout you were led into was far different from that of the other Order- a Red Arrow was painted upon a board hanging in the center space, which itself had wood flooring- indeed, a carpenter or three gotten up to quite a bit of work here. The space was smaller than the White Shroud’s base, at first glance- but you noticed sheer steps going down, and from the creaks sometimes here, you guessed that there was at least a whole second floor below here. Oil lamps cast warm light throughout, and compared to the White Shroud’s rough place, the Order of the Red Arrow had a positively homey base of operations.

A set of four boys, about thirteen to fourteen years old, looked as you were led further in, from their place of lounging about various pieces of furniture. “Wuzzat? Who are these?” One of the boys asked, their voice nearly as lightly pitched as the girl you followed.

“Larz came by and dropped them off. They need to talk ta Odd Eyes.”

“Did ya tell Larz about, you know, the thing?”

“Tell him yourself!” the girl shot back, not stopping the whole way as you were led downstairs, then down yet another set of sheer angled stairs, low ceilinged floors, and at the third tier down there was finally a partition down the middle. A knock at this door, then a wait, until it was opened. A frizzy haired man in his thirties stood before you, the reasoning behind his nickname clear. One eye was blue, the other an oh so slightly off blueish green. He was roughly shaven about the face, and altogether looked rough lived if not sloppy.

“…Huh,” he said tiredly, a tired look like he wasn’t supposed to be awake, and he took the letter held out to him by his young subordinate. A quick tear, a read- a glance at you and Mabel, then a sigh. “Fine. You’ll have to wait a bit anyways, it looks like. Make yourself comfortable. If you need to go out or in, pick somebody to do it. Doesn’t matter who, they all know their way around. Just not me.”

Before you could ask why, the door was shut again, leaving you and Mabel and the girl alone, save for a sleepy young lass with a sawn-off rifle and a green bandage wrapped around her head, over one eye resting against the opposite wall.

“So who…are they..?” the sleepy black haired scruffy girl asked, “…Don’t care who the lady is…”

“Larz didn’t say, and Odd Eyes didn’t tell either,” the original scruffball said in a frustrated squeal, “So? Tell!” she prompted you and Mabel.

“Larz did tell you,” Mabel sniffed.

“Not names.”

“Mabel,” the maid said blankly, “And Richter.”

“Richter, huh,” the black haired gun girl said with a yawn.

“What’s with you?” Scruffy One snapped at the other girl, “Did Kryz tell you he likes boys or something?”

“He doesn’t even talk to me anymore. He likes the girl he found up above more.”

“I will be going above,” Mabel said, uninterested in whatever was being talked about, and you followed her up as the girls below distracted each other about something or other. You would have appreciated getting something to eat, but you were also wary of what Mabel had said about a shortage of food. Asking for anything might result in a rude response.

Another conversation was listened in upon where Mabel took you up and sat down, by a trio of young men the same age as usual.

“So the slone have those girl soldiers now, right? You seen?”

“They’re wrapped up in masks and cloaks just like the others,” the elder of them complained, “Coulda fooled me.”

“They’re probably ugly anyways,” the third youth said.

“Not all of them. See, I went to Headpopper’s place because I wanted to give something I borrowed back-“

“You never borrowed shit from Headpopper, nobody’s even talked to Headpopper,” the older kid said in an irritated nasal tone, “Nobody except that really fuckin’ ugly broad that was around here sometimes.”

“Shut up, I know Headpopper,” the initial boy said defensively, “I went to him, and he let me into his hideout. He’s keeping a pair of those girl soldiers in his place that he took as prisoners, tied up, and he said I could have ‘em. So I did it with both of them. They said-”

“You didn’t do shit,” the elder youth swung a hand down and cuffed the boastful one on the top of his head, “the only part I’d believe is if they said you had a tiny dick.”

“You’re just jealous.” The boy said sorely as he rubbed his head.

“Jealous of how full of shit you are.”

“I’m less full of shit than Will there,” the boaster pointed to the youngest of them, “Saying he saw a ghost girl or whatever! Leaky believed my story, and says there’s no ghost!”

“There is a ghost,” the one called Will whined, “A blonde girl in a white dress, walkin’ around at night, lit up like it was day!”

That got your attention. Though you didn’t know if it was a good or bad sort…

>Ask these kids anything?
>Do anything at the hideout?
If you’d rather just leave-
>Seek out the IO Agents first and foremost. They’d be your most valuable allies. (The Outskirts Villager, or the Launderer in the city?)
>Get an escort to get back over the border. You had your in over here, you didn’t have to linger- you had to take care of other things before coming back. (What sort of things?)
>Other?

>>4209320
>>Ask these kids anything?
Ask about where and when people have been seeing the ghost. Also ask who this Headpopper is and whether he really has enemy prisoners. Sounds like the sort of person who might be useful to us.

>>4209320
Had a feeling the Grandmaster was going to try and just dump a bunch of kids on us.

>Ask these kids anything?
What did those prisoners at Headpoppers say?
Ask one of the older ones what kind of activities the Red Arrow does against the Twaryians.
Are there any fairy tales about protecting yourself from a ghost?

Eventually:
>Seek out the IO Agents first and foremost. They’d be your most valuable allies. (The Outskirts Villager)
Going into Dymny will probably be a a challenge in of itself.

>>4209545
>>4209619
Supporting.

Thank god Reuental is here

>>4209320
>Seek out the IO Agents first and foremost. They’d be your most valuable allies.
Launderer first, I want to scope out the town. We can talk to the other one on the way out. Potentially less suspicious that way anyway.

Also I was thinking if people are still worried about the manpower available once we get back across the border we should go talk to our Ellowian platoons and ask for volunteers to go across. Then the ERA can smuggle them in as well on the return trip.

>>4209545
+1
>Seek out the IO Agents first and foremost. They’d be your most valuable allies. (The Outskirts Villager)

>>4209545
This then go find the agents. Outskirts person first then the one in town if it's safe to go in

>>4209320
>Ask these kids anything?
About the ghost
And about Headpopper
Headpopper is Bertram, you heard it here first

>>4209545
>>4209619
>>4209665
>>4209738
>>4209756
Questions, and the Boonies.

>>4209674
You could use cleaner clothes.

>>4209908
A suspicion that somebody's been wandering?

Writing.

You got up from sitting with Mabel and went over to the trio of youths, intent on clearing up a few things. “…Excuse me, you mentioned…ghosts..?”

The eldest one looked up at you and gave a weary look. “Oh, yeah, but not like…will o’ wisp or anything normal like that. The normal stuff.” What a place this must have turned into for such to be considered normal stuff. As far as you knew much of Sosaldt had at least some superstition concerning spirits present upon the world, but it was commonly accepted that seeing such things was rare at best. “Will here saw this girl the other day- he’s not the first one to see her. If you wanted to ask anybody about it, you’d have to find Kryz. He first saw them a week ago, and says he talks with her a lot. Not much else I know, at least. Hey, Will, where’d you see this ghost girl?”

“Outside of Dymny, around the old hay grass house. The one nobody went to ‘cause of the other ghost. Guess it went away. The scary hooded one.”

“How come you’re talking about stupid ghosts and not about the slone bitches?” The one left out whined, “They’re tight, see-“

“…I actually wanted to ask about that too…” you were more interested in prisoners, and the person holding them, than any other thing, though.

“Judge Above, look,” the eldest one interjected irritably, “New guy, that’s a tall tale from Jay. He makes shit up all the time. He made up that stupid story about going and plowing a pair of pretty Twaryian girl soldiers because he’s jealous of my story.”

“Bull shit, your story’s fake, not mine,” Jay said sorely.

“The difference is that I don’t care if anybody doesn’t believe me,” the eldest snapped back, then looked back at you, “A couple days ago one of those slone broads came up to me when I was at the shop once and asked if I wanted some nookie, see. She was a little older than you, and her New Nauk was real bad, kept calling me little boy in her language and wanting me to call her mommy in east talk. Complete weirdo. Wasn’t interested.”

“Then Kell saw you had a new gun.”

The eldest boy (still only about fifteen) shushed Will at that. “Shaddup. Anyways, Jay’s story is complete horse shit, because he said he talked to Headpopper, and that Headpopper has prisoners. Headpopper doesn’t take prisoners, he’s some crazy old coot who doesn’t even talk to nobody, let alone have visitors. He just takes a single shot whenever he appears, and blows somebody’s head apart. The only person anybody thinks he’s talked is that ugly broad who kept popping over the border a while ago, and that’s because they almost shot each other. All those Vengeful Phantom sorts are like that. Secretive, unfriendly folk.”

“Leaky believes me,” Jay said sorely, again.

“’Cause Leaky wants to shove his dick in something. You want to screw some salty-cunt easterner so bad, go out and capture one yourselves instead of bullshitting somebody else to do it for you. They’re not near as scary as most of the others.”

Jay backed down after that and stared at the floor, defeated. It was probably true that a Garrison unit was less well trained and equipped- their duties were just to guard and patrol behind the front lines, after all, for the most part. Why they’d been brought up here, you weren’t entirely sure. Any ambitions you had concerning Headpopper had been quashed, though- unless you were willing to take a significant risk, there was no chance of even meeting the semi-mythical figure, let alone getting them to work with you.

Some pity was had towards Jay, though- you steered the subject away from ghosts and riflemen. “…So what do you do? You fight against the Twaryians…can you share how you do it..?”

The kids looked glumly at one another, then back to you. “…Well, we don’t really have much to show for it…” Will confessed first, “We steal things, dig holes in the road, sometimes we put sharp junk to mess up the tires…if we manage to get an explosive, Odd Eyes knows how to make those into mines, and we put those in places. A couple days ago a few of us snuck up to a truck and broke stuff under it, and it had to be towed away.”

“We also hide out and shoot at patrols and people hanging out isolated, leave stuff for the Vengeful Phantoms to do their work, but nobody here’s that good a shot. We have to do it from far off or we risk getting caught too much. It does rile them up, and we haven’t been caught, but it doesn’t feel like we do much…”

On the contrary, you thought, it spread Twaryian resources thinner and kept them on edge. Lodjaw might have resulted in a great weakening of the Eastern Resistance Army, but did the Twaryians know the scale of such? Perhaps they didn’t. Altogether a decent result for a band of child soldiers. However, they clearly longed for something with more glamour. The Grandmaster at least knew what his subordinates wanted.

“Who are you, anyways?” Will asked you, “Not just anybody gets shown down here by Larz.”

“…Her and I are both here by will of His Majesty Wladysaw XI,” you pointed to Mabel, “Here to help the ERA, by getting rid of an enemy officer called Gerovic…” you left out your name, in case any of the kids decided to be a bit too mouthy about it in the wrong place.

“His majesty…” the kids all straightened, “Long may he reign!”

“…but you don’t sound like you’re from Ellowie, mister.” Jay said, belatedly. “You don’t sound Netillian either.”

“Wherever he’s from, he’s one of the King’s men,” the eldest again quieted that kid’s concerns, “…Though, King’s Man, er, if we can ask, we don’t really know how well we’ve been doing. From what you said…you think we’re doing good?”

>Defer the question to Mabel.
>They’re doing just fine. They shouldn’t be discouraged.
>You think they shouldn’t be fighting at all. Encourage them to try and stay out of trouble- their time would come, and it wasn’t now.
>Other?
Also-
>Any other things to bring up?
Ghost protection will be addressed upon leaving

>>4211325
>>They’re doing just fine. They shouldn’t be discouraged.
Remember kids, the most important thing is to survive. Dying heroically in a big battle may sound glorious in the books but you're of no use to Ellowie and the King if you're dead.
>>4209908
Headpopper probably isn't Bertram; the ugly girl sounds a lot like Hilda and they only reunited once we sent her back.

>>4211325
>>They’re doing just fine. They shouldn’t be discouraged. Every soldier has his own small part to play in a war, and they're doing what they can do most effectively, which means they're being put to good use. Besides, their efforts have more of an effect on the enemy than they realize on a strategic level, which is where it matters.
>Any other things to bring up?
Where can we find Kryz?

>>4211325
>>They’re doing just fine. They shouldn’t be discouraged.
Besides me Mabel here answers personally to King Wladyslaw and she can also tell you that His Majesty truly appreciates your efforts.
>Any other things to bring up?
What's the security like if we tried going into town? Are there any checkpoints or random stop and searches we have to worry about?

>>4211358
>>4211450
>>4211625
+1

>>4211325
Supporting >>4211450

>>4211358
If Headpopper isn't Bertram, maybe he'll help us to get rid of Bertram if we ask nicely?

>>4211358
>>4211450
>>4211625
>>4211711
>>4211974
Encouraging the child soldiers!
Where's Kryz? Is getting int town hard?

Writing.

>>4211974
Bertram isn't Twaryian though so even if we could talk to him don't think he'd be interested

>>4212290
Hmmm, maybe he'd snipe Gerovic for us though.

“…You’re doing just fine,” you elected to try and give them some satisfaction in what they were doing- these tactics were keeping them alive, after all. “Every soldier has their small part to play…no matter how small, their efforts combined is greater than they can see from where they are. The most important thing is to survive, even if it isn’t a glorious story…you aren’t of any use to the King if you’re dead, and besides me, Mabel here answers personally to His Majesty…” you pointed again to Mabel, who had appeared nonplussed the whole while, “That his Majesty truly appreciates your efforts whatever they are, even if you think you aren’t doing much…”

The Order of the Red Arrow’s young fighters looked to one another, then the eldest back to you, “…Alright, I guess,” the eldest said, and the others muttered agreement. You didn’t think what you had to say was anything but logical and genuine, but perhaps they were more used to hearing more grandiose encouragement. Either that or their hunger for glory blinded them to seeing it that way.

Kinship there, perhaps?

“…So where can I find Kryz, then..?” you broke away from that, if they weren’t going to be appreciative of the advice of the Coordinator and Kommandant, then you’d get back to business. Following up on this ghost girl was important, since you had a bad feeling that you’d know who they were.

“Right now?” the eldest, who you supposed assumed a position of some leadership, answered first. “He said he wanted to talk to his mom in Dymny for…I dunno, first time in a while. I wouldn’t say you should just go into Dymny, though. Not without some friends there. Somebody like Larz, I mean, who can dress you up or talk you through.”

“…Why? Is there a checkpoint…stop and searches..?”

“Those can be avoided,” the eldest said dismissively, “Piece of cake. But you’d need to know what to look for, who not to screw with. And, well, you talk funny, and you’ve got that eyepatch, and you limp- you’d draw attention like nothing, and if nobody was there to bail you out,” he drew a line across his neck.

“…I was headed for the countryside anyways,” you bit your teeth together, “To a village called…” you rummaged through memory, “…Almny. A small place to its south. There’s somebody I can meet there like you said I should have…” The operative was Eagle Two, though their actual alias (presumably as much a real name as “Major”) was Rot, and their cover was as a humble villager, a handyman, a doer of odd jobs- and people would say he had been around (if not necessarily in that village) for a long time. Longer than even the mission from the Archduchy had lasted, and that was because he had been in Ellowie since before the Republic fell, simply…waiting. When he had arrived in the country in the first place was not information given to you.

“Huh,” Will piped up, “That’s where I live. I can take you there, if you want.”

“…That would be good…” you peered back at Mabel again, “Will you be coming too..?”

“No.” Mabel said, flat as usual, “I will wait here in case one or the other of us is expected. You should be safe in the countryside and outskirts, with an escort.”

“…If you’re sure of that…”

“Though I doubt you are more concerned with Twaryians than you are with ghosts.”

Well, that confirmed that Mabel had been far more attentive to the conversation than you assumed. Time to leave. “…Let’s go, er, Will, then..?”

“Yeah, that’s my name. What’s yours? Or should I just say you’re…no, that’d be stupid if there were any slone about…”

“…While we’re out and about, call me Sieg…”

“Alrighty then, Sieg. Let’s go.” Will didn’t give a parting word to the others- who could say if they were friends or not. “We only go out this way,” he said as he led you along a tunnel, “And we only come in two ways. The way you did, and one that goes into an old well, but that’s only in an emergency…and you’d have to know how to swim good anyways.”

Suffice it to say, you weren’t planning on finding out precisely what was meant by that. “…Do you know how to protect yourself from ghosts, by the way?”

“Uh, salt.” Will gulped, “They don’t like salt. It has to be rock salt, not sea salt, that’s what gramp always said.”

Unfortunately, you didn’t happen to have any salt on your person.

-----

The path Will took you over was one with more than a few places where you had to crawl, sit for some time and watch out and listen, and, eventually, head towards a dilapidated old farmhouse- which was where Will froze up.

“Uh,” he stammered, “Uh-uh-uh-uh…”

“…This was where the ghost was…we’re passing by it..?” You hadn’t expected it, but…

“Because the other way’s patrol hadn’t come by yet, but…I…I don’t see her…”

A new voice piped up. “Boo.”

Will was sent running away, leaving you behind, alone, with a voice you were nevertheless familiar with…so you turned around to see who the owner was.

You recognized this girl.

File: tcqscene159.png (397 KB, 522x900)

397 KB PNG

She had blonde, short hair that fell past the neck, pale skin, a tilt to her features that told of a severity that was not currently present. You knew her because you’d buried her back in Salzbrucke, and she looked just as she did back then in the same white shift with naught else despite the cold. Save for one set of details. The horrific wounds that had been inflicted upon her, that had remained upon her body when you found it preserved in a barrel of spirits, the story of a brutal murder told upon flesh- they were all gone. She stood up from where she had been sitting in the snow, and made slow steps towards you, seeming the world like she was there in the flesh, but where her feet came up there was no print in the snow, nor telltale sound of a winter footstep, and when she breathed there was no steam in the air. She stopped about ten paces away, holding her hands in front of her, not saying anything but with an unease weighing upon her lip and brows.

There was an odd tingling in your skin as she came close, and you felt like the air had gone colder...or like warmth was being drawn away from you.

“Hee hee. I uh.” Emma’s familiar voice tumbled out of her new form. She had snickered at first at Will’s terrified reaction, but that humor dissolved quickly as you stared. “I mean, well,” Emma clenched her hands together and rocked on her bare heels, a guarded tenseness spreading over her face, which was ever so slightly translucent…no, she wasn’t translucent, it was an odd feeling like the brightness of her eyes was more real than the rest of her. “Long time no see, I guess. What do you think?”

>?

>>4212305
>So how did you manage to get your body back?

>>4212305
>I've been afraid a passing soulbinder has nabbed you.
>I'm glad you're okay, but... You know you're in danger now?

>>4212310
She didn't. I vote against this.

>>4212305
>You were a sight pudgier, last I recall.

>>4212315
Obviously I don't mean her physical body since that's still in Salzbrucke but this projection of her right now. Has she been feeding on people? Is it just by absorbing all the natural presence around here?

>>4212319
It's pretty definite she's been feeding. It's the only way we know for her to take a human shape, and it was heavily foreshadowed to boot.

>>4212305
>So what else have you been up to since we last met?

>>4212315
>>4212318
Both of these.

>>4212305
>Well, can't say we aren't a bit insulted to find that she thinks haunting some abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere is more enjoyable than the pleasure of our company. Here we figured she had just been eaten by something. Were we really that unpleasant to be around?

>>4212310
You're looking corporeal.

>>4212315
>>4212322
Though that's really not a good thing.

>>4212318
>>4212695
Fatty.

>>4212322
What have you been doing?

>>4212965
And here I thought I was a ladies' man.

Writing.

“…You’re pudgier than you were last I saw…”

“Oh, go to hell,” Emma snapped, and turned her back on you, “I thought you’d be mad, or a little glad maybe, but you’re just cracking wise like an asshole.” She looked back over her shoulder, “What’s with the way you’re talking? Did you just wake up or something?”

“…It’s a long story…” you knew Emma was aware of you leaving- you were relatively sure she spied in on the procedure breaking your conditioning, but the aftereffects were too much to go over now. “…I’m glad you’re alright. I was afraid a soulbinder might have taken you, or that something might have eaten you…”

Emma scoffed at that. “I can see the wizards pretty easy now that I’ve been around a few. For the other stuff, now, I eat them. There was some spook like back in the mansion in that farmhouse, but I went there the way I am now, and I just ripped them to pieces and ate the scraps. I’m not afraid of things like that anymore. Not even the whispering trees do more than tickle.” She turned all the way back around, a hand on her hip, “You didn’t say what you thought, though. Aren’t I cute? You don’t have to say I’m cuter than your girlfriend, but I’m way better than I was. I was nothing, some ball of fire, now look. I can walk around, I can talk, I can touch things, for real,” she reached out with a hand and brushed it across your shoulder- where she had touched immediately felt numb, with pins and needles fading in, and you drew back reflexively. “I even have boobs again! I still don’t know if I can change my clothes, though,” she drew a hand through her wispy dress, “…I guess it’s kind of, a part of me, or something. It’s nice being a person, but I sort of want to not, look like I just got out of bed.”

Emma really wanted to talk about this new form she had…but you were aware of what it was. It wasn’t a true body. In mystic terms, Emma had turned into the next form of an Ember- something soulbinders and Maddalyn had informed you was called a Blaze- a dangerous spirit, and one that could even be more dangerous given time to grow more, and an undisputed target of elimination by soulbinders. Even being close to her now...she was clearly a much more potent being. In that light…

“…You know how much danger you’re in, don’t you..?”

“Huh?” Emma’s brows raised, “Well, I mean, if anybody’s got a problem with it, I’ll just hide, or I’ll just have to get stronger. I’ve been hungrier lately, anyways.”

You shook your head. “…That’s not…we’ll figure it out later. Why did you leave to haunt a farmhouse? Is my company not good enough anymore..? What have you been up to..?”

Emma scrunched her face up at you. “Your company? Richter, when did we ever hang out? Talk? Hardly ever. I was just shut up in that crappy cottage all day, and after you sent Hilda away, my only…best friend, I didn’t have anybody to talk to, except that glasses broad, who just gave me the stink eye. I try and have some fun, and it feels like people think I’m a monster,” Emma’s brows tilted down and her frown buckled her face, “I’m a person, damn it! So I thought, fuck it! I’ve been told I can get a body, have a life, then I just get shut up in a house and told to wait? For what, so I can be used like some sort of weapon? I couldn’t stand it any more. I thought, I may as well see if I can do anything, and if I can’t, well, nobody would miss me.” Emma looked like she might start crying, but who could say if she could produce tears. “But it worked out! I was afraid, but everything’s better. I can even still do stuff like this,” She floated upwards and bent down, then lay in the air, “…I figured that wizard girl wouldn’t like it, so I didn’t come back…I met a couple people here. There’s a boy, his name is Kryz, who I’ve been talking with. He’s younger than me, but not that much younger, so he treats me like, well, a girl…” She rolled over in the air and crossed her arms behind her head, “What about you, huh? What happened to your eye?”

“…It got shot. It’ll get better…”

“Well, you and your girlfriend match, at least.” Emma crossed one leg over the other, “Why are you over here, anyways?”

“…I need to capture or kill an enemy…a Captain Gerovic…”

“Gerovic?” Emma sat up and turned around in the air, then let her feet fall and touch the ground again. “Do you need to kill him? He doesn’t seem so bad.”

“…If I don’t, I won’t get any help for…wait, what do you mean, doesn’t seem so bad?” you snapped up.

“Kryz told me about his mom, and I figured, not everybody can see me, still, especially if I go up high and down again, I would go see her. She’s a prostitute, see. He doesn’t like her for that…and I saw this Gerovic guy come out of her room, and he looked at me. Spoke at me. So I followed him someplace and…we talked a bit. He seemed nice.”

“Nice?” You choked, “He attacked us multiple times, in the last one he wounded and killed some of us, Von Metzeler lost his arm…he’s an enemy!”

“Well,” Emma said sorely, recoiling from your outburst, “I don’t think it’s personal. Is he your enemy, really, or the Archduchy’s? I didn’t tell him about you, if that’s what you think.” You stared at each other. “I’m not helping you kill him,” Emma said firmly, “I’m not the Archduchy’s weapon. The Archduke can fuck his own face until he dies for all I care. If Gerovic wanted to kill you out of spite, I’d help you in an instant, but I don’t think he does.”

“…Well, if I don’t catch him, then I don’t get any help against Bertram, and-“

“Who? Hilda’s brother?” Emma looked more and more puzzled, “She told me about him. What’s he doing here?”

You sighed heavily and leaned on a tree. “…Here to get me back because of everything that’s happened to Hilda.”

“…A lot’s happened since I left, huh.” Emma murmured. “…So what now? Do you want my help again? You’re kind of a moron, you’re not always nice, but…you did give me hope back then. You did try and help me, we helped each other, and Hilda…Hilda really, really likes you, and she’d want me to help, and you let…that time slide, so…I’ll help you. Just not wit everything. If you want.”

>What’s the plan with Emma, then?

>>4213366
It's fine if she doesn't help with Gerovic, but we sort of really need her help to find and kill Bertram otherwise he's going to kill us. Does she think she could find a person probably hiding in the woods somewhere near where he told us to meet? He has that spooky eye if that helps make him stand out, but it might also make him able to spot her or something, not really sure how that works.

>>4213366
>What’s the plan with Emma, then?
Ask her if she wants to go back in the can.
When she says no, ask her what she wants to do.

It seems awful lonely wandering the woods talking to a few random people.
Is she good friends with Kryz?

Ultimately it'd be nice if she came back with us, and maybe remind her that the only person in the world that can help her is Maddy.

>Other?
What did she and Gerovic talk about? Does he have any other supernatural abilities/friends?
If she gets huffy about not telling us then at least tell her what Gerovic ultimately wants to do. World War in Vinstraga, she can't agree with that.

>>4213513
+1.

>>4213513
This also question her about her conversation with Gerovic. Point out she's free to do what she wants but don't get overconfident because I'm sure people like Yva could still wipe the floor with her.

>>4213366
>tanq dunking on us for treating Emma as a soulless NPC
We done fucked up.
I feel sad and horrible.
Even though she was obnoxious and unpleasant to be around.

>What’s the plan with Emma, then?
Apologize for not paying attention to her.
Tell her we're glad she's found some company.
Ask where exactly she saw Gerovic and how to get there. Don't ask for her immediate participation in the assassination.
Warn her she's now a danger to others, like Kryz. Tell her just poking us made us feel numb. And she will become even more dangerous if she continues eating, maybe to the point of killing people with her mere presence. Then she will be alone forever.
Confess that we don't know what to do now. Even if we find a way to give her a body, would she still hunger for people's souls? And how would we even transport her to a laboratory, we can't hide her in a can anymore.
Ask her what does she want to do now.

>>4214142
Supporting.

>>4213366
Ask if she could tell us about what her and Gerovic talked about and maybe things like how often he visits Kryz's mother or whatever.

Ask if she could find Bertram and give is some info on what he's up too. I don't expect to get much out of this line of questioning but if we know where he is then that's never a bad thing. I'm tempted to ask her to just eat him and be done with it, but that would probably lead to her turning full monster on us.

Warn her about the dangers of her new form and what might happen if she keeps gobbling presence up like a fatty. Tell her to go climb trees to lose some wait maybe.

Ask if she'd like to talk and hang out for a bit. We're a solider and it's not like we have all that much time to just sit around and talk, but we can make time for Emma. She might not see herself as one of the Archdukes dogs, but she's done plenty for him in the past. She's basically apart of the crew. A spooky, underage, dead member of the crew.

I exist.
>>4213513
>>4213555
>>4213849
>>4213883
>>4214142
>>4214795
>>4214914
A lot of stuff.

Writing now.

You stared back at Emma…then crouched down to sit, wincing as your wounded leg protested against the sudden pressure on it, but you’d be here for a bit. If Will didn’t muster up the courage to wander on back, especially. “…I’d like to keep you around, yes…You’re…one of us. That doesn’t mean you have to do things you don’t want to, or pay lip service to the Archduke, but…I’m sorry. You are a person, and I should have tried harder to treat you like one…”

Emma floated down to sit beside you. “Wow, they really messed with your head, didn’t they?”

“…You don’t know the half of it,” you said drily, “I’m still not sure if it was worth it or not. I think it’ll turn out for the better, but for now…” you sighed, and scooted back to sit against a tree’s trunk. “I don’t have a lot of time, but if you want to sit and talk for a bit, not just now but later, I can try and make time for it…for now, though, I won’t demand that you help kill Gerovic if you don’t want to. I’d appreciate it if you said where he was, though…”

“I’m not stupid, Richter,” Emma said with a rough, grumpy edge. “I know what you’d do with that information. Maybe you don't think it has anything to do with it, but if I tell somebody where to find somebody they want to hurt, and they do it, I’m complicit. I’m through with that. Like I said, I don’t think he wants to get you.”

“…Sorry,” you sighed, “But if I don’t deal with Gerovic in some way, I won’t get help with the Bertram problem…can you help me with that? He came here specifically to get me, and I suppose I don’t care much if he hurts me, but I have people I have to take care of…” You told Emma all you could about him- how he had showed up that night and attacked you, how you’d agreed to a duel, his magic eye- and how you were hopelessly outmatched, since your ability with a rifle, once quite proficient, was but dust in the wind now.

“Why’d you accept a duel then, dummy?” Emma asked you after that, “It’s not like he didn’t give you other choices.”

“…Because I figured, he could go to hell. I make mistakes, I’m hardly a saint, but I am no sniveling coward, who can be lorded over by a twisted sadist for his entertainment, for nothing.”
“Alright, calm down, I get it, honor and all that.” Emma cut you short, “But he’s going to absolutely shit all over you.”

“…He’ll probably kill me if I don’t have help, yes.” You said dully.

“You do need my help,” Emma said uncomfortably, “…I’ll give it, but…I don’t think he wants to kill you, either. Think about it. He showed up in the middle of the night, and had you by the nuts. If he wanted to just kill you, why wouldn’t he have stuck that knife in your neck instead of using it to give you a little cut on the cheek? If he’s gonna kill you, he wants to make it fun, I bet. Like a kid pulling the wings and legs off a butterfly. Look at how you got all pissy over honor, how you got pissed with him that night. Why would he ask for a stupid duel instead of shooting all your friends, and then you? He doesn’t want to kill you, he wants to ruin you.”

“…Like he thinks I ruined Hilda…” you surmised with a melancholic sinking of your chin into your chest. You hadn’t ruined Hilda. You hoped she wasn’t ruined. “Not that there’s much a difference. Ruining me might be just as bad as him just putting a bullet in my head…”

“Yeah, well, at least it means he doesn’t just win,” Emma muttered sorely. “I don’t want that to happen, though. I’ll…do what I can to help. I don’t know how best to, but I’ll try.”

“…You’ll agree so quickly against Bertram, but not Gerovic…what did you talk about? I admit that I am rather biased against him…it happens when two men fight enough, you see…”

“Yeah yeah, I get it, you shoot guns at each other,” Emma snapped, ever an impolite sort, “But…when we went and talked, he said first that he’d never talked to a ghost before, and asked where I was from. Said that I was a long way from home, asked how I got here…I didn’t say. He didn’t press on it. He said that he’s been to many places, mostly to fight, but after enough of it he got tired of that. Said that he tried to get to know the people where he went…”

-----

“The world is quite funny when you are a mercenary, an adventurer, rather,” the plain faced captain said to the ethereal blonde girl as they spoke in his private quarters. He’d heard stories of ghosts, how Ellowie was a haunted land, but this girl didn’t sound like an Ellowian at all- and despite the ever so slight lightheadedness from being around her, he was simply curious of her- and she was curious of him. “I myself was born and raised in Twaryi- but the eastern seas opened in my youth, and beyond them lay our ancestral lands- Caelus, the mother continent, home of the Patriarchate, conduit from heaven to earth. I doubt you believe as I do, but I’m sure you know that any Twaryian then wanted to witness the old country that grew with the Old Church.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know the difference in how you believe,” the ghostly girl confessed, “I never heard a lot about Twaryi or Caelus.”

“The spirit of the belief in judgment remains similar, anybody can see such,” the captain deigned to lay out the simple terms of what every Twaryian had drilled into them since near birth, “But the Old Church was the First, and each split from it has led our Lord’s children further and further from his light. First, the Cathedra broke away, the separation of both sea and storm causing them to drift apart, and in their differences, sprang resentment-ambition, entitlement- excommunication. Then, the conqueror Alexander the Kaiser shattered the Cathedra, and from heresy was born further heresy- further chaos. I am hardly a theologian, I could not list the many differences, but the best summary is that the East still recognizes what domains are of the Judge.” The Captain smiled at the girl, “I’m sorry if that was a boring subject. I’m finished with it.”

“Nah, you didn’t take too long. What were you saying about adventure?”

“You must have been a rascal of a girl. Right, adventure. I went to Caelus, and you see, the Federation loves to claim its supremacy, but the place was quite chaotic when I traveled there. There was much need of mercenaries by the constituents of the young Federation for all sorts of reasons. I was young, fresh faced, strong, and in need of coin.”

“Young? You don’t look that old.”

“Hah,” the Captain smiled further, “No, I am not so old, only twenty and seven. I was fifteen when I went a’ venturing, however. I went without purpose- yes, there was a wish to see what was out there, but I saw it as I went. I earned coin, bought vices- in the end, it had little of the meaning that I must have thought I would go and find. Once my boredom with mere pleasure and gain was total, I set about towards enlightenment- and so, we arrive here, after much of that. I’ve come back home to learn as I did about Caelus. When I came back, I could not speak the language we are speaking in. Good that I’m a quick study.”

“There’s other things, aren’t there?” the ghost made an expression like she was being patronized to, “You can wander around and get to know people without being part of an army.”

“Of course there are other things,” the Captain’s expression didn’t change, “But I don’t share them with people I’ve just met, not even cute girls. That said, I am best at fighting- and there is so much you can learn about people only through battle. My skills are needed, and I wish to serve. That it fulfills my sense of curiosity is but a part of the whole.” The Captain sat upon the bed of his room, “I tire of talking about myself so much. Tell me about yourself. You said your name was Emma? Emma who?”

The ghost floated over to the edge of a desk and sat on it. “…I’d rather not say.”

“Ha. You must have been newly wealthy, then? Or perhaps important but cursed with scandal? Both?” The captain pointed to the ghost’s clothes, “Sheer and silk, a simple design, but hardly a cheap chemise you have there. I might not be much of means comparatively, but I know you were at least dressed well. Your accent is of the sea folk- Valsten, I believe, but I know little of the place besides its explorations.”

“I was rich, and from Valsten, yeah,” the ghost crossed a leg over the other and leaned back against the wall, fading through the papers and office miscellanea, “I mean, I’m not rich anymore. My family, my house, all of it…it burned up. All I have now is…this. Once, I could have whatever I wanted, and now, I just want little things, and…I can’t have them. I wanted to date cute boys, wear nice clothes, see interesting places, do weird and cool things…now I’m just dead.”

“Look on the bright side,” the Captain chuckled, “Death hasn’t made you less cute. I’ve known plenty of women who fretted over grey hairs and the wear of but a few years, and you’ve weathered death itself with nary a scratch. You would make many terribly jealous.”

“Hmph,” the ghost turned to the side ever so slightly, “I’m too young for you to be flirting with, you eastern lecher.”

“And also rather too dead, hm?” the Captain said coyly, “I am only trying to be nice, I have found that I indeed prefer women to be older. I wonder what Lucia would think of you?”

-----

It was funny, wasn’t it. You’d known Emma longer, and you never knew that she had anything to hide concerning her family name.

“I didn’t stay much longer,” Emma said, “He said it was getting late and that he needed to sleep…it wasn’t late at all, I mean, but he seemed tired, and he didn’t seem the sort to lie about that, either.”

“…That so…” To you, Gerovic seemed nothing if not a tricky sort, but you held your tongue. ”…Well, I’m glad that you’ve had people to talk to. It’d be lonely just flitting about near that old farm house, wouldn’t it? You said you talked to somebody called Kryz…tell me about him…are you good friends..?”

“That boy? Well, we’ve talked a lot, or, he’s talked a lot. I think he likes me, and,” Emma shrugged, “I appreciate that, I guess, even if, you know. Dead. He tries to act tough, but he’s real bothered about his mom. That Lucia that Gerovic talked about. It’s not like, they’re in love or whatever. She’s a whore, and he’s pounding her, but they seem like…I don’t know. Real good friends? Who screw a lot. Kryz and his mom used to get money to live from the government before, but then…you know. So now she’s a hooker, and Kryz really, really hates that his mom gets plowed by Twaryians. He’s so embarrassed, he can’t even talk with his other friends. I think…he really wanted the chance to talk about that with somebody else. Somebody who wouldn’t shame him for it.”

“…I’ve spoken with some of his friends, I think. He isn’t wrong to not talk about it with them…” you weren’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand, his mother was clearly doing it to support them, but on the other, the level of spite between Twaryians and Ellowians was such, you’d heard, that it could be unthinkable for many.

“I don’t know anything about the bad blood between the Twaryians and Ellowians,” Emma said, putting her incorporeal chin in equally ethereal hands, “I do know that neither Gerovic or Lucia seem to care that much. Sort of like, I mean, Valsten and Strossvald didn’t hate each other, that just felt like something that wasn’t most people’s problem, and it was just based on what the governments wanted, especially with Valsten’s government just, changing so much. I kind of understand it, but, like, if I was in the same place, I wouldn’t start hating my mom, you know?” All of a sudden, Emma’s face fell, and she suddenly curled into a ball sitting up, and buried her head in her knees, saying nothing. “…Sorry, I’m fine.” She said thinly, “I…hadn’t thought about that in a while. Never mind.”

“…So what do you want to do, then?” You asked, “In the long term. I can’t hide you any more…not in the can like I used to. You’re in danger…and you’re a danger to others. When you touched me, I went numb for a moment…You shouldn’t eat any more, at least. Climb some trees, lose some weight…”

“I don’t want to go back to how I was before,” Emma said sharply, “I’ll be careful. I won’t hurt anybody, I promise. I’ll…I’ll figure something out. You, you’ve got the thing too, of finding bodies?...That wasn’t just bullshit, right?”

“…It wasn’t. I…don’t know myself, to be honest, but I recently found out, that my fiancée will know something about it…” Specifically, Poltergeist hinted her tutor, The Hermit, had been the specialist in such matters. ”We can get her help.”

“She’s a bitch, though.”

“Maddalyn is not a bitch,” you snapped back heatedly.

“She is towards me.”

“…” That wasn’t something you could argue against. For all her affection towards you, you’d seen plenty of times how hostile she could be towards others. “I can convince her…” You knew Maddalyn’s weak points. Her ears, and her-

“If you say so.” Emma resigned herself to trusting your word on that- perhaps because she knew she had no other choice, but neither of you would say that. Since she didn’t want to help with Gerovic, you considered advising she go back north to find Bertram, so you could get a head start on that front, but not only did Yva prowl up there, but you had no idea if Bertram had counters against creatures like Emma- with his sorcerous eye, he could certainly see them.

“…I wonder when that boy will come back. The one you scared away. I sort of need him as a guide…”

“He’s watching from about that a ways,” Emma pointed, “Too far to hear us. Scaredy-cat.” She grinned evilly, “I, uh, I guess I can wait here, if you have to get busy again, but… there’s one more thing.”

“…Yes..?”

“I’m going to talk to Gerovic again,” Emma floated up to her feet, and stood. “I think it’s pointless for you to try and kill each other. I won’t tell him you’re here, but if you want to tell him anything, or ask him anything…I’ll see if I can have him say. He called you the Kommandant or whatever, but he’s interested in finding out about you- he said as much when I asked about what he wanted to find out here.”

>Ask anything/tell anything? (Write in)
>Gerovic is your enemy. You’re not having a chat or anything like that, no matter how nice he might be otherwise.
>Other?

>>4216136
>>Ask anything/tell anything? (Write in)
- What the heck have the Twaryians heard about us anyway? Wouldn't have thought our exploits in Sosaldt would have reached all the way there.
- Also just a bit of trashtalk but tell him with all the manpower and equipment at his disposal he should be a bit embarrassed that we and Edelschwert managed to drive his guys off.

>>4216136
>Gerovic is your enemy. You’re not having a chat or anything like that, no matter how nice he might be otherwise.
we'll lose the element of surprise and I don't think we can gain anything significant from doing it

>>4216136
>Gerovic is your enemy. You’re not having a chat or anything like that, no matter how nice he might be otherwise.
Might be better for both us and Emma if Gerovic is unaware of our connection

>>4216136
>Gerovic is your enemy. You’re not having a chat or anything like that, no matter how nice he might be otherwise.

He discovers we can talk to ghosts is one more arrow to use against us somehow. That and Emma isn't clever enough to hide the fact that we met her on this side of the border.

AND we especially can't insinuate to him that the whole reason we are here is to capture/kill him, he finds out about that and we will never succeed.

>Other?
If she really wants to find out the measure of the man named Gerovic, tell her to ask him what he wants the Caelussian Federation to do to Vinstraga, how badly he wants to conquer and win, and how many more burned out mansions he's willing to create to achieve that.

>>4216136
>Pointless or not, Gerovic has already tried to kill us many times. We can't just sit and let him do it again.
>Gerovic is your enemy. You’re not having a chat or anything like that, no matter how nice he might be otherwise.

Also supporting >>4216246

Sorry for the thread being so slow, I've been lethargic lately. I'll see if I can't pick things up though.

>>4216165
Trash talk.

>>4216168
>>4216222
>>4216246
>>4216309
No words for Gerovic. Suggest that if Emma really wants to measure his character, to ask why he's doing all of this in the first place.

Writing!

Maybe Gerovic would have been worth exchanging words with, one, but you weren’t interested in doing so now. There was only one thing you wanted to do concerning him, and that was to excise the problem of his existence from your life and the world. “…Pointless or not,” you said to Emma’s criticism, “He’s already tried to kill me and my comrades before, many times. I won’t just sit and give him the chance to try it again. It’ll be better for you and I both if he’s ignorant of our connection…I don’t want to give him even a single advantage. He is my enemy. We won’t be having chats or the like, no matter how nice you may think he is…”

“You’re still as stubborn as ever, at least,” Emma huffed and tilted her chin up, “Fine. I won’t be any more involved in that, then. But whatever dumb thing you decide to do, you better not die doing it before I can help you with Bertram. Hilda would already be upset that you’ve taken this much of a beating as is. I still think if you’d just talk, you’d find more out about each other, but I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“…If you really want to see his character,” Emma’s picture of Gerovic was incomplete- you’d see those gaps filled in, and her opinion would certainly change, “Ask what he wants the Caelussian Federation to do to this continent, how badly he wants to conquer and win…how many more homes will burn for that ambition..?”
Emma stared you down, and floated upwards, “Sure. I’ll ask that.” She turned upwards to leave, “Even if I think you ought to ask that of the Archduke, yourself.” She didn’t wait for a reply, and left you alone in the trees.

…You’d concern yourself with such a question later. Now was hardly a time for cynicism to your own nation and ruler. There was plenty to think about, but it could very much wait for another time. It was time to go and get Will, now. Searching in the direction Emma had indicated, he came out of hiding quickly enough.

“Were you talking with the ghost?” he asked excitedly as he stumbled out of the underbrush.

“…No.” You lied easily, “You ran off, so I waited until I saw you come back…”

“You saw the ghost though, right? Heard her?” Will was insistent, but you had to disappoint him by shaking your head. “You can at least tell the others you saw her, can’t you?”

“…Sure.” That was an acceptable sacrifice. “Let’s get on to Almny, then…”

-----

The village was a desolate place to behold. More people had clearly once lived in Almny, and the houses included more newer construction than old stonework, but the streets were empty besides the presence of bored looking Twaryians. The Twaryian uniform of a hood, face mask, and heavy wool cloak, all black over a black tunic, meant you didn’t know that they were female Garnizon until Will told you of such. You wouldn’t have gotten close enough to notice, as despite their second-line status they were alert enough- though the village apparently wasn’t significant enough for there to be an impregnable watch all around, and you found yourself inside a house that was terribly clean, despite it being uninhabited.

“You’re here to find Rot?” Will asked, completely relaxed now that you were both indoors, “He blew in a few years back. He’s not all that friendly, I dunno why you’d know him, but I guess I dunno how you met the King either, so I can’t ask too many questions.”

“…Will he be around..?” you asked, wary of having to wait too much.

“Sure. He’s always home. Middle of town. Though it’s…kind of around where those Twaryians have set up. If they grill you for papers, I won’t be able to help you…”
“…We’ll have to try anyways. I won’t get you in trouble…just point the way from a safe place…”

Being caught sneaking would have been an idiotic end to your adventure here, so you sought to merely knock on the back. However, once Will had sent you along and you were at the window, a few knocks at it…

“You, one eye,” a woman’s voice came from behind, and you turned to see three of them, rifles in hand, behind you. They weren’t particularly imposing- even though the Twaryian uniform turned their figures androgynous, as women they were still rather short, and you were about a head taller than the highest among them. “Who you? Stranger? Papers, show.”

You didn’t speak a word- despite your time here, you didn’t have the best grasp on the subtleties of the Ellowian accent. Would these Twaryians be able to tell, though? Another of them chittered something in Caelussian- only one of them might even have the barest grasp of New Nauk in the first place. What sounded like a suggestion was shot back, and the Nauk-speaker’s brow furrowed angrily at whatever was said behind her. Great.

“You no talk? Show papers, zhalupa.” Her voice had gotten more aggressive, impatient. You searched for what to say-

“What’s going on out here?” a man spoke, and you all turned to see a middle aged man with dark red hair stride out to join you. “Ah, Alfonse, why didn’t you come to the front door?” He stood between you and the Twaryians, “He is my nephew, come to work.”

“Nah-few?” the Twaryian said blankly, “Where papers?”

“Right here.” The red headed man held out a small leather envelope, and the Twaryian took it roughly, opening it and ruffling through yellow papers.

“…Keh. He have his paper, not you, find again.” She dumped the envelope and the papers on the ground chattered something to her fellows, and they left.

Once the Twaryians were out of sight, the red headed man bent down to pick all the documents up with a sigh. “You must be the runaway. Come along, inside, quickly.” He got up, shuffling the papers back into the envelope. Once you were inside and he shut the door behind you, he explained further. “You’re my nephew, Alfonse, you went blind in an eye because of an accident working. I had to add that part a little recently, but your identity has been suggested over years, waiting for somebody to come and take it.”

“…I suppose you are Rot, then…”

“Obviously.” The red haired agent led you into the main room in the one-floor house, and motioned for you to sit in a chair by a tea table as he went into the kitchen. “I can’t say I know what the hell the Major’s thinking with you, but it’s not my lane. I expected to find you, though, rather than have you find me. Whatever.” He came back with a pair of mugs- cheap looking tea, with a pair of thinly sliced lemons floating atop. “They’re preserved in a sugar syrup,” he said of them when you blinked at the lemon wheels, “Keeps them good for a bit. Means you don’t have to shove anything in the tea either. Which is good, because the Ellowians like shit that’s condemned by God. Had to find out ways to survive being here years somehow.”

“…So, the subject of Gerovic-“

“Hold your damn horses, we’re getting to that,” Rot interrupted you with a gruff interjection, “I don’t care what else you might have going on, you’re not just going to walk into town and shoot him. He’ll shoot you first, then the rest of us. We’ve got him in a place we might be able to do something entirely because we’ve stayed far the hell away.” Rot studied your face, “They got close, but not quite right. May as well put some more distance there. We’ll bleach your hair, that should do it. That lot outside saw your eyebrows a different color, but you won’t be staying long enough for that to matter. Better that be inconsistent than you be recognized by somebody actually looking for you.”

“…Bleach..?”

“It’ll make the biggest difference between what you’re known as. It’ll mean you’ll be blonde a while, but you’ll just have to live with that. When you’re set, we’ll get about that. Sit around here, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll go tell Weiss you’re here, and we can get started on just how the hell we’re going to do this, because I can tell you, it won’t be easy. I hope you’ve made some friends for this.”

“…I have. I have contacts with the Eastern Resistance Army, now…”

“It’ll have to do.” Rot was dismissive preemptively- you were unsure if it was you or if he knew what the ERA was made up of. He went in front of you and squinted into your eyes. “…Damn, whoever did that went about it rough and hard. They just strap you to a table and see what worked?” He held your non-patched eye open wider with his fingers and studied it. “Well, it is how it is, I guess.”

>It'll be a bit before I finish this update- posting what is done so far.

Your eyelids were released, and your hand sprang to touch them defensively, to cover them- and for a moment you saw nothing. The hand came down, you blinked, and Rot had walked off. You couldn’t be controlled, you thought- was the Intelligence Office truly alright with that? No, there was some other layer somewhere, but what was it? Would it even be hinted at? Would you have the option to ignore it and forget about all this? Even after this matter of Gerovic, after Bertram, after Ellowie and Alpha Two…

Rot returned, a pair of bottle in his hand. “These substances are relatively gentle, but you’ll still have to wash it out. There’s a basin in the other room. Don’t get it in your eyes, not without washing it out quick. Apply it to your hair, let it sit a bit, wash it out, then apply the other, wait, and do the same. It should give you an unordinary blonde.” Rot stepped over to a corner with a small table over it, and shifted it to the side. “Nobody should come knocking. Just in case, pry the floor up here. There is a small tunnel to the next house over. Try to hide in it instead of crossing, if need be. I should be back about when you’re done with the makeover. Weiss’ll be with me. Food and drinks are in the kitchen, take what you want.” The IO Agent went for the door. “Later.” He left before you could say anything about it.

The first wash went quickly, and you were left with naught to do while the chemical did its work. A bread roll was snatched from the kitchen, and you looked about…there were a few books, but one was merely a hiding place for a runty automatic pistol, while the other few were not in your realm of interest. Maybe there were more, but you returned to the chair again, and dug out the photograph of Maddalyn again.

She was given a long, wistful stare. Couldn’t they have tried to get her to smile? Perhaps you couldn’t complain. Before, you had no images save for those in your memory. It was simple enough to make her expression a gladder one with some imagination, anyways. There was plenty of stuff in the mind to mend that error in the picture.

…a few minutes later and there was the matter of amending that she wore clothes. You hadn’t ever managed to get all of Maddalyn’s clothes off her- there were parts of her she hadn’t let you touch, let alone look at, but if she was as alike to her mother as she seemed you could imagine things well enough.

Yet the unease of the situation was preyed upon by the Fear, insulated as it had become. Noises from outside, and the thought of violently ravishing Maddalyn from the confines of your imagination were chased away. Even after the unease calmed, you lacked the will to pull together the threads of that thought picture again.

…Ah. A radio. Even if it just spewed propaganda, it would at least pass the time…

-----

Weiss appeared with Rot half an hour or so after you had finished the second treatment. There was no large mirror in the place, only a simple hand one, and from what you could see you had done fine. Well enough to disguise your actual hair tone at least.

The other agent himself was a pale, scrawny fellow roughly the same age as Rot, but much narrower about the features. He spied you immediately as he and Rot walked in, and said, plainly, “One of her pets, eh. Hound R.”

“The less imposing one, yes.” Rot told Weiss, “Hound R is your designation,” he told you, “We won’t be calling you that, like you won’t call us by Eagle. Seems the bleaching worked…well enough. Weiss can handle the final steps. The layering to make it appear more genuine to the discerning eye, which Gerovic certainly has.”

“I have an aptitude for disguise,” Weiss said brightly, putting his bag on the tea table, “Though not all the ideal tools are about. The bandages, hm, we can take some of those off now, surely. They stick out.”

“…The eyepatch can’t come off…”

“Fine, fine.” Weiss dug through his bad and prepared several tools and substances, “I’ve some news of interest to us, concerning our rascal of a target. It appears a force is assembling- since Unit Four is part of such, it is undoubtedly Gerovic, or one of his subordinates.”

“The Major said that he had a blow struck to him recently.” Rot said, “He can’t be planning more than a small action.”

Weiss shrugged coyly, “It seems he has obtained reinforcements. Lighter vehicles, shabbier, possibly hastily repaired hand-me-downs with their patchwork, not as strong a force as he once had, the Moskity are not present, but he has assembled a host nevertheless. I wonder where it will go…”

You couldn’t help but swallow, hard. Already? It had only been a few days, hadn’t it? Yet already he had pulled ever more resources from his magic hat. Yet. They weren’t top of the line gear. Lighter vehicles, in worse condition, they sounded a far cry from what his normal fare was.

Yet. Yet…could your battered force weather even that attack? You had five tanks, two of them mercenary, but Von Metzeler had been wounded, Anya had been beaten into a state where she may as well have been bedridden, the only commanders left were Krause, and potentially Wielzci, but Wielzci was with his platoon in the UGZ, along with all the other Ellowian platoons. The Netillian platoons of the company you oversaw were also understrength. Gerovic had no chance of knowing you were absent- there was no way that this was some bait. You wouldn’t have been able to see it. The only possible thing was that he was assembling a strike force- for what, though?

“It’s not your problem now, anyways,” Rot told you, a reaction to the color draining steadily from your face, “You’ll have to trust the others to handle things.”

“…Some warning could surely be sent,” you proposed with little thought, “They were not just about ready to strike, were they..?”

“Hardly.” Weiss smiled a toothy grin, “They had repairs and fueling and rearming being done. The transports carrying such things were arriving as Rot and I left. I would say they have…several hours. They might even attack at night, as Twaryians do.”

“No warning would be sent anyways,” Rot crossed his arms and his square face set firm, “That would reveal to Gerovic that you have eyes back here. Threats. He was already suspicious, but in this case, he would know. Unacceptable. Unless you think that won’t sabotage your chances, but the Major sure won’t blame it on either of us.”

>Fine. You’d take that. You needed word sent back for your people to get ready, to call for help.
>They were right. What choice was there? They would have to handle it…*had* to handle it, themselves.
>If you were going to keep the fact that this attack would happen a secret, you wouldn’t abandon your people to be safe over the border yourself. You’d return to fight alongside them- you had a route to come back and forth anyways.
>Other?

>>4221066
>They were right. What choice was there? They would have to handle it…*had* to handle it, themselves.
Have to trust Metzeler or Krause with this

>>4221066
>If you were going to keep the fact that this attack would happen a secret, you wouldn’t abandon your people to be safe over the border yourself. You’d return to fight alongside them- you had a route to come back and forth anyways.
>Ask the spies which vehicle Gerovic will ride in. If they don't know now, have them find out and contact us later.

>>4221066
>>If you were going to keep the fact that this attack would happen a secret, you wouldn’t abandon your people to be safe over the border yourself. You’d return to fight alongside them- you had a route to come back and forth anyways.
Gotta strike sooner rather than later. That and any plan is going to probably need our forces to be as composed and undamaged as possible. It might even be a good time to attack if the Twaryians haven't assembled it to attack into Netilland.
I seriously doubt these two need Richter for his skills in espionage. And if they give him shit, ask them how inconspicuous a wounded, half blind Strossvalder who can't speak Ellowian or Twaryian is to there plans.
>Other?
Before we go: QUESTIONS
Any weaknesses Gerovic has?
>>4221094 for Gerovics ride
They come up with any general plans to deal with him?
Targets of opportunity they've spotted while here?
Any way to recontact them after this?

>>4221066
>>They were right. What choice was there? They would have to handle it…*had* to handle it, themselves.
If we spook Gerovic we'll lose our chance and this whole trip will have been for nothing. And frankly I doubt Richter's presence would be the difference between victory or defeat anyway.
>Other?
Look into whether we could get the ERA to launch some harassing attacks against Gerovic's forces while they're preparing. Taking potshots at them and forcing them to send out patrols, even just blocking or mining the roads, anything that would slow him down. Gerovic is clearly going for speed here so if we can delay him enough we might be able to defeat the point of his attack without fighting.

>>4221066
>They were right. What choice was there? They would have to handle it…*had* to handle it, themselves.

>>4221066
>They were right. What choice was there? They would have to handle it…*had* to handle it, themselves.
Damn this twari bitch, before we know it he will summon a king tiger

Some of our crew and potentially one of our friends for the chance to take out Gerovic once and for all?
Tanq out here forcing the hard choices.
I just hope nobody blames Richter for not being there for them when he's out here trying his best to handle the business.

>>4221066
>>If you were going to keep the fact that this attack would happen a secret, you wouldn’t abandon your people to be safe over the border yourself. You’d return to fight alongside them- you had a route to come back and forth anyways.

>>4221079
>>4221133
>>4221343
>>4221355
Leave it to the others- you have your own job here.

>>4221094
>>4221119
>>4222728
Go back- your fight is with your people.

Seems you're hanging around over here, though maybe you can do a few things to help, indirectly...
Writing.

Much as you didn’t want to admit it- the Intelligence Office agents were right. You’d come all this way to strike Gerovic where he was weak, and you couldn’t squander the opportunity you’d worked for. Perhaps Gerovic would attack, and that would be a chance to fight him on the field, but who could say if he would truly attend said attack? If he didn’t even join with the raid, even if you did win, it would have been for nothing in the greater scheme of things if Gerovic had never been there in the first place. What use were you in such a fight, anyways? Were you a presence that could shift a battle towards victory or defeat? Maybe once…but not anymore.

A solemn nod to the agents. “…Yes, I’ll be staying here. My people can handle him…” You hoped, at least.

Rot had kept a keen eye on you the whole time, and after you said your piece, he gave Weiss a glance. “A type three, you think, or a type five?”

“How am I supposed to know? I hardly know who this punk is.”

“The Major will want to know, since she’s keeping him around.”

“…I’m right here…” you said grumpily, “I suppose I can’t ask what you’re talking about.”

“You could ask the Major, not us.” Rot gave you an answer that neatly removed any obligation from anybody in the room, “In any case, we might have a golden opportunity with this raid. If Gerovic’s gone, we can see if we can find out more things about his surroundings, and if he stays behind, his trusted people will be off over the border. We’ll have to go back and observe.”

True as that might be, you had had an idea to help your people just a little bit. “…I was thinking that I could ask my contacts in the Eastern Resistance Army to harass the assembly point, block or mine the roads…delay their operation and maybe make him call it off…”

“Type Three, definitely,” Rot muttered, “No. We don’t gain anything by having him call it all off. Heard you’re short of time anyways. Do you really want to delay this? If you want to include your insurgents, I’d say the best place to use them is to attack the raid force as they return with all they have, depending upon if Gerovic is with them or not. We will have one shot at Gerovic-one. With as little time as we have, our best chances lie in a decisive strike one way or the other.”

That shut down your plotting. Yes, you very well could go along with it anyways, but there was a point there. The moment Gerovic felt he might be being targeted, he’d go on the defensive, and who could say when he’d let them down again. Could the ERA make a strike against an armored vehicle, though, as he would be riding in if he joined the attack? Did they have enough assets to strike at more than just the right one? You might have to pull out all the stops on rather short notice, if you even could.