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The sounds of your own feet quickly faded away. Was there a part of the tunnel where there was soil instead of stone? It was possible; it wasn’t nearly light enough to see for certain; the ground didn’t feel any softer, though.

At the edge of your hearing, you started hearing strange whispering. It sounded like one person at first, and you were about to turn and ask Von Metzeler what he wanted to say when the whispering gave way to many voices; dozens.

You didn’t have time to go insane at the moment, so you did your best to ignore them. They never left; such would be too convenient for your concentration, but they were eventually drowned out by the sounds of the real world just in time for you to scramble out of the other end of the secret passage.

At first, you saw nothing but things to be pleased about. Weil was facedown, slumped awkwardly forward against the bed; one end of the secret passage went to what had once been Signy’s room in this base. In the same part of the room, you saw another incapacitated form; one you recognized as that of Luca the Cutter, a creepy Reich veteran who had been guarding Weil’s room from the outside; what he was doing here, you couldn’t fathom, but there couldn’t have been an alarm raised since nobody else had come.

Above them stood Malachi, who was flicking away a lit cigarette while roughly pulling up his mask. It seemed the masked man didn’t want to let you see his face quite yet. He gave Luca a savage kick to the ribs as the stick of tobacco hit the floor.

Across the room in the other corner was Signy, who was a terrible sight.

Long cuts mutilated her face, and she stared vacantly with one eye at equally eviscerated hands. A few of her fingers were bent in unnatural directions, and a bruise was beginning to form around her neck. A couple of other stab wounds indicated more serious if less disfiguring damage.

>Immediately go to aid Signy
>Ask Signy if she’s alright
>She’s had worse. Get to Weil and Luca first and help Malachi finish up with them.
>Other Action

past thread links: http://pastebin.com/UagT0hnh

>>1096536
>Immediately go to aid Signy
holy crap, she's gonna die from blood loss

Signy looked like she had just come out of the bad end of a butcher’s shop; you had to do something. Malachi could handle things with Metzeler’s help.

When you drew close, Signy noticed you and tried to smile at you. It was a macabre expression with half her face soaked in blood. “Hey Tracht,” she said in a tone that was a bit too cheery for the state she was in, “I messed up.”

“Shush,” you look around for anything to use as bandaging. Signy’s clothes drawer sprung out to you; as did her bedsheets. They were equidistant from you.

“I’m so weak,” Signy lamented, “But I could help a little even then. If they both went for mask guy, he woulda been screwed, but that Luca creep couldn’t help himself, he he.”

The particularly deep cut across Signy’s face was flooding her visage with blood, which would drip into her mouth and prompt her to spit messy clods of red bubbling slip to the floor every few seconds. “Ptchoo. You look so serious, Tracht, why? Is it that bad? How do I look?” She points to her left eye; now that you’re closer, you could see that it had been stabbed, and fluids dripped from under her tightly shut eyelid, itself alarmingly sagging.

>You’ll be fine if you let me handle those wounds.
>Don’t worry about it. We can get it fixed later anyways.
>You look like somebody didn’t like your face so they tried to sculpt a new one out of it. I can’t say it’s an improvement on the original.
>Other

>>1096810
>>You’ll be fine if you let me handle those wounds.

I guess an eyepatch joke is obligatory

Also, why didn't you just shoot them? Raising an alarm would've been better than...this.

>>1096810
>You’ll be fine if you let me handle those wounds.

We'll get you to Maddy and everything will be okay.

“Let’s say that you’re lucky eyepatches are in vogue now.” Levity seemed far from appropriate at the time, but any distraction was better than moping, especially if Signy wasn’t going to take it seriously. You left her to go rip up her bedsheets. You were no practitioner of medicine, but you knew that having that many open wounds wasn’t healthy.

“Ow!” Signy complained as you bound up her hands. You knew from your experience in outdoorsmanship as well as basic training how to treat broken and dislocated limbs, but Signy’s broken fingers weren’t as pressing as the numerous other shots she had eaten.

“Why didn’t you just shoot them?” you asked her as you wrapped another length of sheet around her face, “You have a gun, you know.”

“I was stupid,” Signy confessed, “I hesitated. Thought maybe that Luca wasn’t as tough as he turned out to be, so I could avoid letting the whole place know a fight was on. He and Weil are pretty old, you know? Ptch. So he rushes up and smashes my hand, rips the gun out…I guess he…ptoo, knew he had me then, cause then he started doing this.”

She pointed at her eye, now hidden under a wrap of sheet. That had been easily dealt with enough, but you had no idea how to deal with the colossal gash across her face. Being vertical, there wasn’t an easy way to deal with it other than to just cover her whole face. You had no idea how to thread a needle, let alone sew stiches.

You chose to deal with the punctures in her abdomen and shoulder first. With a flick of a knife, you cut open Signy’s clothes.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?” Signy’s tone was getting sharper as time went on. Her shock must have been wearing off.

“I can’t just bandage the outside of your clothes,” you explain.”

“I could have just taken it off,” Signy muttered.

“You’ve already bled all over your clothes, you don’t need to think of saving them.” You were too distracted to make lewder remarks.

“Speaking of,” Signy said lightly, “I can’t see out of my other eye…can I get that…you know…”

“It’ll be fine as long as we can get you to Maddy,” you tell her, “It’ll be like nothing happened.”

“Who?”

“Maddalyn Von Blum,” you remind Signy, “Short, red hair, looks like she’s twelve years old?”

“She isn’t twelve years old?” Signy seemed genuinely surprised.

>I hope not.
>I hope so.
>She’s actually older than both of us. Not that I know how old you are.
You have both Weil and Luca, although you don’t really need to take both of them, you do need to decide what to do next.
>Send Signy and somebody else (choose) to go through the secret tunnels and escape with two prisoners. Signy is the only person here who knows where to go in the tunnels to escape, so if you want to get out she needs to go too.
>Send Signy and somebody else out through the secret tunnels, but only take Weil.
>You’ve done enough here, everybody’s heading out.
>Other

>>1098867
>She’s actually older than both of us. Not that I know how old you are.

>You’ve done enough here, everybody’s heading out.
>Except Luca, he gets stabbed to death because fuck him.
>But we'll take along the guy we nabbed at the barracks. Because he's a real Dawnseeker and might be more privy to their plans than even Weil.

>>1098912
Supporting

>>1098867
>>You’ve done enough here, everybody’s heading out.

>>1098912

Luca isn't of particular value to us but executing a prisoner doesn't seem like conduct becoming of an officer. Maybe we should ask Signy what to do with him?

Normally I'd go through with a majority decision right here, but this does happen to be a major decision to make. Executing a prisoner of war is a war crime, and even though international law doesn't apply to insurgents according to Strossvald law, I think you should be absolutely certain you want to do this, since the current majority voted action would mark quite a development in character.

>>1099347
Luca is a bloodthirsty sociopath who was so eager to start torturing a girl he completely stopped paying attention to his surroundings *in the middle of a fight*.
It's a kind of person that shouldn't live. Also, he hurt Signy.

>Murder the fucker

>>1099347
Sometimes you've gotta make tough decisions, and lugging a psychopath around with two other prisoners after he already severely wounded one of ours is not a good idea, neither is letting him go, ending the threat here and now is the best option.

“She’s older than both of us,” you tell Signy as you finish your bandaging on her stomach. “Not that I know how old you are.”

“Nineteen.” Signy says. You suddenly feel very old despite the mere three year difference. “So what are we going to do not? I’m still…ugh, game…”

“No you aren’t.” you shut her down immediately, “I’ve seen ground beef that’s in better shape than you are. We have what we need, we’re going right back…well, almost all we need.” You beckon to Malachi, “Take Von Metzeler and fetch that man we left in the other room. Where you choked out the first man.”

Malachi nods wordlessly and drags Metzeler out by the wrist, your fellow member of nobility too intimidated to refuse this sort of treatment.

“So three prisoners then?” Signy asked, her last syllable turning to a gurgle as she stopped spitting.

“Two.” You say firmly.

“What about that Luca guy?”

“I was thinking of killing him, to be honest.” You say this and Signy looks uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t I? He’s a monster. I can’t let that thing walk around and possibly do something like this again.”

“…No, I know, he’s already tried to kill me twice, but…” Signy looked at her hands, and down at her shoulder, “Could you really…just do it?”

“You didn’t seem to think much of it earlier, with how you obsessed you were with revenge.” You retort with some dourness.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t like, like here,” Signy tried to find the words for her thoughts, “If I were you right now, I couldn’t do it.” She stared at the man you intended to make a corpse, who was weakly shifting about the ground; Malachi had done quite a number on him; were you to guess, you’d say both his arms were dislocated, from the pose they were in.

“Have you ever…killed anybody, before?” Signy asked abruptly.

>Once; in self-defense. A long time ago. You just have to do it, when you need to.
>Never; this would be the first time, but there wasn’t a better person to do it to.
>You had taken a few courses that had elevated you to Lieutenant, rather than 2nd Lieutenant that most graduates came out of the gate with. One of these involved…unsavory duties.
>Say you’d rather not talk about it

>>1100488
>>Never; this would be the first time, but there wasn’t a better person to do it to.

>>1100488
>You had taken a few courses that had elevated you to Lieutenant, rather than 2nd Lieutenant that most graduates came out of the gate with. One of these involved…unsavory duties.

>>1100488
>Never; this would be the first time, but there wasn’t a better person to do it to.

“No.” You say to Signy, “This will be the first, but there wasn't a better person to do it to anyways.”

“Aren’t you…” Signy hunched forward, “Isn’t that…scary?”

“I didn’t sign up in the army unprepared to kill,” you say flatly. To be true, though, the armor corps tended to engage in rather impersonal sorts of war. The onward march of time had made war easier and easier to fight; the musket made the face to face fighting with blades a rare occurrence, and the invention of effective indirect artillery made it so one did not even have to see their foes to slay them. You could not have expected that you would stab a man to death with a knife, let alone so early in your career.

Best to get it over with. You approached Luca, and as you stood over him, his eyes flew open and he stared coldly into yours.

“You are not the masked one.” He said with no emotion, “Are you going to kill me, then?”

You don’t answer him.

“I’ve been dead for twenty two years.” Luca went on, “Come then, set me free, boy.”

“Are those your last words?” you stay your hand until he is finished.

“…Nah.” Luca shifted, but continued glaring up at you. “I was your age, or around that, when I died. Young and skeptical, didn’t understand why anybody fought. Why we had to fight. Why we couldn’t just let the Emreans go their merry way. Young and stupid.”

Luca flopped his useless, dislocated arms and stretched his fingers with a short puffing breath, “The Emreans had been fighting with the territorial troops for a good while then. A few months. Bloody, bloody as can be. When we from the Reich proper came up, the Emreans had stopped fighting with their brothers; the ones who hadn’t slaughtered each other had joined together. Expected nothing. Got something I couldn’t even imagine.”

Luca’s eyes were as blank as you had ever seen them as he continued his story. You thought it would be in ill taste to not allow him this tale. “I was young, dumb. Didn’t know how much a man could hate another. We got rounded up in the night. Tied to poles. Everybody was laughing but us. Soon enough we were screaming. Guts spilled and left to rot, faces flayed. I got free, got shot. Played dead for days, til they got bored. Then I learned to hate, as I had to listen, paralyzed, to the weeping of my friends, powerless. Never found those Emreans again. Had to pretend others were them.”

“Then the war ended,” Luca said with foreign finality, “War never ended for me. Seconds turned to hours, hours to days, just like the times between battles. No parents, no lovers, friends all gone. Soon, I saw nothing but dirty trenches in the darkness. When I found an enemy to share the agony of my friends with, everything became clear again. Found my cure.”

“Are you trying to justify your sickness?” you say incredulously.

“I’m not justifying anything.” Luca said, eyes half closed, “You asked me for my last words. I’m giving them.” Luca slowly began to frown, “Though now that this day’s finally come, and I really think about it…all those years, I tried to keep myself out of the grave I belonged in. Should have just accepted death back then. The person I used to be would have rather had that. My friends would have rather had that.”

Luca then looked down to his chest, trying to point with his eyes. “Right between the ribs, across from the nipple, near the middle, about a forty five degree angle. Straight through to the heart. Doesn’t make nasty noises like if you do the throat. Don’t learn to hate, boy. Not like I did. Don’t learn that and only realize what you’ve become on your deathbed.”

Luca leaned back and closed his eyes.

>Don't reply. -Kill him-
>”I won’t.” -Kill him-
>He doesn’t deserve a quick death. Think of something more creative.
>Other

>>1103643

>Don't kill him. He's just a victim of war, same as anyone else. Maybe by serving as a prisoner and giving testimony of this plot he can make some small effort to make up for his sins

>>1103643
”I won’t.” -Kill him-

>>1103643
>Don't reply. -Kill him-

>>1103643
>"Every petty thief has a sob story about twelve younger siblings to feed." -Kill him-

>>1103643
>”I won’t.” -Kill him-

You think about saying that every villain has a sob story, as if they’re the only people in the world with bad lives, but you don’t.
Instead, you simply say “I won’t.”

You drove your knife into Luca’s heart. It slid in cleanly, quickly, with only the slightest hint of resistance as you pierced the hard muscle of the heart. Luca inhales sharply, but otherwise did not move until his life had faded away.

Luca finished dying by the time Malachi and Metzeler walked in, carrying the Dawnseeker you had captured earlier. Malachi looked over at you, and when he did, he dropped his cargo roughly, and stepped slowly towards you.

The enigma stood in front of you, silently. You couldn’t see any part of his face, but the way his head was locked, staring at you, was incredibly unnerving. He looked through you for about ten seconds, then to the sheets that you had cleaned your knife on, before going to said sheets and throwing it over Luca’s body. He rolled it in the stark white sheets, twisting the ends before hoisting the body up.

You thought it was a mere gesture of civility, or perhaps that Malachi was going to hide it, but he placed the body at your feet.

“Boury.” Malachi said, his unintelligible accent corrupting but not completely obscuring that he said “Bury.”

>I’m not burying that thing. Somebody else can take out the garbage.
>Fine. But you’re carrying it.
>That isn’t my problem. Are we going to hold a funeral for every man we kill?
>Other

>>1105095
>Really, Malachi?
>Really?
>Fine. But you’re carrying it.

“Really, Malachi?” you say indignantly, “Really?...Fine. But you’re carrying it.”

“Noh.” Malachi says firmly. “Maikombot. Noh yorrs. Nohhyors leyfe tahk. Cowurhd achkt. Ah lettlev. Yoh kehl beehend bahk. Yohr kehl. Yoh carree.”

With that, Malachi pointed down at the covered body of Luca.

>I am your superior. You can’t tell me what to do.
>Pardon? I have no idea what you’re saying. Tell me again when you learn to speak. We have no time for this.
>Whatever. If you feel that way about it, I’ll take it.
>Other

>>1105124
>-under breath- And a mrrph mrrph mrrph to you too.
>Whatever. If you feel that way about it, I’ll take it.

“And a mrrph mrrph mrrph to you to,” you say under your breath, before saying “Whatever. If you feel that way about it, I’ll take it.”

Von Metzeler look at you as if you had gone insane when you kneeled down to throw the corpse over your shoulder. “What on earth are you doing?” He said as he adjusted how the Dawnseeker on his shoulder was laying.

“I don’t know,” you tell him, “Let’s just go. Signy, lead us out of this pit.”

“…oh, uh, sure.” Signy said uncertainly, as she hobbled back over to the entrance to the tunnel network. “What are we going to do, though? There aren’t any Dawnseekers in this place to fight, and we’re set to shoot this place to bits…”

“I’ll think of something,” you reassure her, “the sooner we’re out of here, the sooner we can control the damage.”


You weren’t trying to stay hidden this time, so your trip out through the tunnels should have been quick, but Signy was having incredible difficulty moving at a sufficiently hasty pace. When you had checked how much time you had before entering the dark tunnel, you had gauged it at thirty five minutes until Von Blum’s forces began their assault; right then, they would have deployed to prepatory positions. It felt like it had been fifteen minutes, though, and Signy was still stumbling slowly forward.

“How close are we?” you urge her. Luca’s body was surprisingly light, or perhaps you were merely wired up.

“Close.” Signy grit her teeth, “Sorry.”


Eventually, you noticed bright light pouring through thin cracks in a wooden, plank door ahead. Signy pushed awkwardly at it with her elbows, and you were once again reacquainted with the wind and sunshine of the Ilex River Valley. You checked your pocket watch; nineteen minutes until the operation started.
No sooner had you let the corpse down and stretched than you felt a prod in your back. You turned and saw Malachi, poking a shovel into your torso.

“Yoh deg.” He said, “Burhy.”

“Can’t this wait until later?” you complain.

“Noh kombaht, ef zeyle duhrt. Kleen zeyley, Jooj kend.” Malachi moved his hands about while saying this as if he was explaining to a child how the law worked.

>I’m sure I’ll be fine from…whatever. I promise we’ll come back here to bury this sack of crap.
>Fine, I’ll dig a hole. I’ll catch up with you later; go find where our tanks are.
>Alright then, digging a grave. I’ll have to be quick.
>Other

>>1106397
>We have nineteen minutes unitl an all-out attack that will kill a lot of our comrades from the academy, and a bleeding girl who needs medical help. I promise we’ll come back here to bury this sack of crap.

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“Malachi,” you say patiently, “We have nineteen minutes until an all-out attack that will kill a lot of our comrades from the academy begins, and Signy needs medical help. I promise I will make time to come back here and bury this sack of crap.”

“Mmph.” Malachi shakes his head, but doesn’t force the issue.

“Right then,” you say, “Where are we?”

“Ehhh…” Signy trailed off, “Outside.”

“Uh huh.” Your hopes plummet.

“I mean…Vaktheim is to our…west?” Signy tried again.

“If you do not know where we are, just say that.” Metzeler said.

“Uhh…” Signy said uncomfortably, there’s a village called Blauf to the southeast. Maybe a kilometer or so away. Vaktheim is…a bit of a walk.”

You open up the map you’ve made sure to keep with you. If you guessed your location about right, judging from the terrain, Vaktheim was about three kilometers to your west.

>Go straight west to Vaktheim
>Sway south to the road and go to Vaktheim from there; you might run into somebody who can help you get there.
>Go to Blauf and look for help there; you could appropriate an automobile.
>Other

>the red circle and arrow is where you think you are. The Red X is where the Dawnseeker's base you came from is.

>>1106675
>>Go to Blauf and look for help there; you could appropriate an automobile.

>>1106863
>Go to Blauf and look for help there; you could appropriate an automobile.

“If Vaktheim is a bit of a walk, how about we drive, instead?” you wonder to nobody, “We’ll march to Blauf. Surely somebody there has a vehicle we can borrow.”

Agreements come in response to your proposal as you orient yourself. Soon enough you are briskly hiking up the slight elevation, and in little time you spy the dark asphalt of the road connecting Blumsburgh with its neighboring towns. Morale soars as you come upon this landmark, and the pace moves ever quicker.

Save for one person.

Signy had been trailing for some time, so you signaled to Metzeler to overtake you so you could check on her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you fall back to her.

“D-damnit,” Signy stuttered, a fist clenched on her collar and the other on her belly, “This h-hurts a lot more than it used to.”

“You’ll be fine,” you push her slightly forward, “It’s not too far, now.”

“Tracht,” Signy said through gritted teeth, “I hate to be the weak link, but I think my guts are gonna fall out if we keep this pa-woah! Guh!” Her last expletive preceded a faceplant as she fell forward. “I’m fine, I’m f-fine, ahhh...”

Her knees quivered as she got up again. You were close enough now to hear her teeth chattering with every step.

“Don’t worry about m-me,” she groaned, “There’s no time for me to do anything but keep…going.”

>Whatever you say. Just keep up.
>Wait by the road. We’ll come by for you.
>We can’t slow down. Get on my back, I’ll carry you.
>Other

>>1107318
>We can’t slow down. Get on my back, I’ll carry you.

“We can’t slow down,” you tell her, thinking for a second. “Get on my back, I’ll carry you.”

“What?” Signy sounded startled, then looked off to the side, “Oh, um, okay.”

Signy pressed herself against your back, and let her arms hang over your shoulders as you bend forward, lifting her thighs up and shifting her weight forward.
You tried to keep yourself from being distracted by it, but it was impossible not to notice Signy’s breasts pressed against you, her hot breath on your neck, the way she made little discomforted vocalizations every time you had to take a large step.

Very distracting. Oddly more distracting was how she didn’t say a word the entire march.

You checked your watch when you finally arrived at Blauf; you had eleven minutes. It was a quaint little farming hamlet, whose small fields were partitioned equally between barley and nationally famous Ilex Valley Night Flowers, whose petals were used in a commercial dye, once the primary export of the Ilex Valley before its industrialization.

A two ton truck was waiting by some big sacks of grain, freshly harvested and ready to take to the milling plant in the city. Its driver, a portly old farmer with a straw hat, idly tapped at the wheel. He dozed off, eyes staring listlessly to the mountains, until you banged on the Handelwagen two ton’s door roughly.

“Hoh! What?” the old famer jumped so high he banged his head on the roof, smashing his hat over his face. He pushed it back up again and glared at you with beady little eyes, “What in tarnation- Judge above, what happened ta ya?” He said the latter upon seeing Signy, whose face was coated in dried blood and dirty bandaging.

“We need a ride somewhere,” you tell him, “Can you take us?”

“Eh,” the old man squirmed, “Army men came by and told us to stay here til they came back. Said it was for us safety or summin’.” Signy made a convincingly pained moan which made the old farmer sit bolt upright, “But, but y’know, we got some stuff here to help the lass.”

>No, insist you need to ride his truck to Vaktheim
>Say you’re actually looking for soldiers; if he knows where they are, you want him to take you to them.
>Say you’re a soldier yourself and need to get to Vaktheim; not that you have any proof of that.
>Other

>>1108336
"Can you just drop us off at Vaktheim? It's only a few minutes from here by truck right? I'll talk to any Army people if we run into them."

>>1108369
Seconding

>>1108336
>>Say you’re a soldier yourself and need to get to Vaktheim; not that you have any proof of that.
>>1108336
>>Say you’re actually looking for soldiers; if he knows where they are, you want him to take you to them.


We're army officers and we need to get in contact with those soldiers immediately. Take us to them.

“Can’t you just drop us of at Vaktheim?” you ask, “It’s only a few minutes from here by truck, right? I’ll talk to any army people if we run into them.”

“Talk to em?” the old farmer repeated to you, as if you had told him you could converse with weasels.

“I’m an officer,” you stress, “So is he, even though we don't look like it.” you point to Von Metzeler, “We need to reach our men as soon as we can, so we’re actually looking for soldiers. If you know where any are, we’d like to be taken straight to them,”

At the last name, the farmer perked up, “Well, if it’s from another army man, how can I refuse? Make sure you hold on tight, those belts aren’t for holding people.” He turned over the engine, which sputtered to life. “There’ll be soldiers between here and Vaktheim for certain. I’ll stop for any I see.”

“That was refreshingly easy,” Von Metzeler said as you all loaded up, your prisoners included.

The two unwilling guests had woken up a few times, but while Weil proved troublesome, the Dawnseeker had learned by now that if he didn’t struggle, Malachi didn’t punch him. They did not leave much room on the truck for you, though; Signy had squashed against you, and you couldn’t lean much further over unless you wanted to kiss Weil.

“So do you want to turn these into the first people we see?” You ask Von Metzeler, as you ponder whether Signy could afford to be less timid about falling off the truck.

“No,” Von Metzeler said, “These men are going straight to the Intelligence Office. The less between us and the Archduke, the better I’ll feel.”

“You are one of my officers, Von Metzeler,” you say levelly, “I hope it doesn’t, but if it comes down to a fight, I’d rather have more than less.”

“Krause is back there,” Von Metzeler said offhandedly, “He is plenty competent, despite how little you have seen of performance.”

>Right then, I suppose you can make this old man drive a bit further for you then. We’ll see you after we finish business at Vaktheim.
>Unacceptable. You can keep them somewhere isolated under guard, but you’re coming into this battle with me.
>Do you not trust our comrades here? You have enough evidence with all that loot you took anyways, you’re overthinking things.
>Other

>>1108552
Get the old man to drive him farther. Krause seems like a competent enough guy to fill in for now

>>1108552
>Right then, I suppose you can make this old man drive a bit further for you then. We’ll see you after we finish business at Vaktheim

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“Right then,” you nod to Von Metzeler, “I suppose you can make this old man drive a bit further for you, then. We’ll see you after we finish the ugly business at Vaktheim. You will be alright handling these two by yourself?”

“Of course,” Metzeler said confidently, “A watchful eye and a ready hand are all that is needed now, brute force has already done its work.”

“Glad to see you’re so certain.” You lean back and look out the back to Blauf, gradually growing smaller. The distance between it and Vaktheim really was insignificant; you could see Vaktheim as soon as you had come out of the forest, but the difference in size truly became apparent once there was an equal distance between you and both of the towns.

The truck began to slow down, despite you being nowhere near Vaktheim. Presumably the old man had found some patrolling soldiers.

“What are you doing out here?” you heard a familiar voice ask aggressively, “The roads are restricted to civilian use. Turn back and go back to where you came from.”

It was the voice of Sergeant Schaub, the leader of the squad of Panzergrenadiers who had been dispatched to aid you earlier. It was rather great luck; he would probably recognize you.

“Who’re you?” he asks you as you jump out of the back to greet him, “If you want to get into Blumsburgh, you’ll have to wait. You'll be told by courier when it's safe to come out.”

>Come on. You don’t remember me? Is it because I don’t have the fancy hat?
>Does that apply if I am a Lieutenant? We need to join back up with our tanks.
>This truck has military permission to continue. I am Lieutenant Von Tracht, nice to see you again, Schaub.
>Other

>>1110644
>This truck has military permission to continue. I am Lieutenant Von Tracht, nice to see you again, Schaub.

>>1110696
>Also we have a person in need of medical aid

“This truck has military permission to continue, actually,” you say, “I am Lieutenant Von Tracht, nice to see you again, Schaub.”

Schaub squints at you, puzzled, for a moment, before standing straight and saluting. “Apologies, milord, I did not recognize you out of uniform.”

“At ease.” You say reflexively, waving your hand in a little circle, “We have a person in need of medical aid. Where is the forward base located?”

“For who?” Schaub asked blankly, “1st Battalion in Vaktheim? 2nd Battalion to the south? High command’s where it usually is.”

“1st Battalion of Panzers.”

“They’re split between the regiment,” Schaub said impatiently, “What company?”

You don’t actually know. You had let Krause handle matters of organization when you had left; you hadn’t anticipated being not only short on time but towing wounded.

>Admit that you don’t know.
>Take a fifty-fifty shot for the locations. Four companies in a battalion, two companies per location, good enough odds. (Pick either the task force at Vaktheim or the force coming from the south)
>Ask Schaub if he’s seen something that would mark the presence of the rest of your crews.
>Other

>>1110785
We need to prevent the battle. What we actually need isn't our battalion, but the command. So let's proceed there.

An idea springs to mind. “Actually,” you say, “High Command’s still at the manor, right?”

“…it is, milord.” Schaub says to you.

“Great, we’re heading there, then.” You bang on the truck’s door, “Hey! Old timer! We’re going to the Von Blum’s manor.”

“The manor!” the old farmer looked as if he would have a heart attack, “Not jus’ anyone can go there, sprout!”

“I can,” you smirk at him, “Step on it as soon as we get back in.” You look at Schaube again, “Just a word of advice, Sergeant, try to move more deliberately than usual in the coming attack, will you? I have a feeling it’ll end without much of a fight.”

Before Schaub could think of a response you had leaped back in the bed, and after making sure everybody was aboard, rapped on the roof of the two-ton.

“How are you holding up?” you ask Signy as the truck starts moving again.

“S-same as before,” she says weakly, “I don’t feel like, like I’m dying, I mean.”

“It won’t be long now,” you try to encourage her, “I think if I can say the right things and talk to the right people, I can keep this pointless battle from happening.”

“Tracht,” she says firmly, “Even if my guts were smashed all over the place and I was going to die right then unless I got help right that minute, I’d rather you…do what you think is best.” She gave a little sigh and closed her eyes, “Dad always made sure I was treated well. He was the reason I even got out. I’m sick of people getting themselves hurt saving me.”

“That is a pretty sentiment,” Von Metzeler interrupted, “but we can save the philosophizing for afterwards. Von Tracht, how exactly are you planning to stop this operation?”

“Simple,” you say, “We drag Weil up to High Command and tell them they’re about to attack into a sham.”

“Not so simple,” Von Metzeler corrected, holding up his index finger, “Say Weil denies that any of what you’re saying is true. We have no shortage of evidence, but it’s all in paper form. Things that must be double checked, cross examined, searched over for signs of forgery- we will have minutes to convince High Command not to attack, not days.”

“Eh,” you scratch your head. “There’s something we can present that’s really good, isn’t there?”

“Or something that isn’t there at all.” Metzeler replies, “You have no experience in blackmail, do you, Von Tracht? Something that’s fake that is bedecked in gold and ivory gets more done than the truth in a paper folder. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Or,” Signy butts back in, “You could just tell this guy to call off his guys and make them surrender. They have radios, right? And he knows the whatevers, he can just tell them to stop fighting.”

“Only if he could be coerced.” Metzeler leans into his hand, propping his forearm on a crossed leg.

>Just try anyways; you don’t have anything you want to plant on Weil, and the story should be shocking enough to make them delay operations for long enough to tell your whole story.
>Plant something on Weil to “discover.” You have something that would be a good thing to put on him, don’t you?
>Try and coerce Weil into making his troops stand down.
>Other

>>1111120
>Plant something on Weil to “discover.” You have something that would be a good thing to put on him, don’t you?
Oh yes, we do. Thanks, Mr. Ambassador.

>>1111154

I hope we can get it back afterwards

“No, I’ve got the perfect thing,” you say, withdrawing the golden seal of the Reich from your jacket, “A seal of the Reich for a puppet of the Reich. Where could we have gotten it if not from him?”

Von Metzeler smiles slowly. “Where indeed? Unless you were a secret agent of the Reich.”

“What could the Kaiser want with a petty Lieutenant?” you say sardonically, “The Lieutenant Colonel’s nefarious plot almost succeeded, in his attempt to distract the valiant forces of Von Blum from the danger on the border.”

Signy giggled, but only for a while, cringing as some of her face reopened. She was nothing if not irrepressible, it seemed.


The truck slowly came to a halt in front of the gates.

“I suppose Ah’m leavin you here,” the old farmer said carefully, unsure what direction he’d be flung in next.

“Actually,” you say, and the old man sighs, “Could you stick around for a bit? We’re keeping somebody in the back there; a criminal, we want you to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Welp,” the old man hopped out of the truck, “I can’t move the grain anytime soon anyways.”

“Much appreciated,” you pat his substantial back, “We’ll be right back.”


There was only a few minutes to spare. You charged into what you knew was the command tent; a hustle and bustle of activity, as multiple radio attendants rattled off which units were in position and ready, then repeating back information. Major General Von Harlopf, a giant, mustachioed official who commanded Von Blum’s Armor Division, towered above the rest of his staff. They were eyeing a map upon a grand table, a miniature of the Ilex River Valley and the general area around the city of Blumsburgh. A far vaster amount of miniatures inhabited the place where the Dawnseeker’s base was suspected to be than there really was.

>Make a nuisance of yourself; get the Major General’s attention.
>Sneakily take a place at the tactical planning table and wait for an opening to make your announcement
>Announce that you are here by the authority of the territorial lord, and that you must be heard.
>Other

>>1111929
Announceme self

>>1111929
>Announce that you are here by the authority of the territorial lord, and that you must be heard.

Maddy's not with us, correct? Otherwise I trust her with our introduction.

“General!” you shout out across the command tent. Far more quickly than you were prepared for, every eye was on you, and the room had become dead silent. “I’m, uh,” you hesitate for a moment, but recompose yourself, “I am here by the authority of the territorial lord, Barnabas Von Blum, and I have important information, that calls the wisdom of continuing this operation into question!”

All of the staff officers gave you glares so withering you felt your very being shrivel like a raisin, but Major General Von Harlopf beckoned you over. You had never seen Von Harlopf in person, only heard of how huge he was, but as you ventured closer his true size became frighteningly apparent; were you to guess, he was almost 2.2 meters tall, and he dwarfed much of his staff, as well as you.

“And who are you?” hissed a sergeant major, “You are out of uniform. State your name and rank!”

“Lieutenant-“ you started to say, but as soon as you said your rank the table burst into condescending snickering. “Lieutenant Von Tracht,” you finish, “and with me is Lieutenant Von Metzeler, and along with us here,” you push forward your bound and gagged prisoner, “Is Lieutenant Colonel Weil, commanding officer of the battalion that went missing by the acts of the rebellious militia that call themselves the Dawnseekers.”

Suspicious murmurs circulated among the staff, but Von Harlopf rose an enormous hand, and all was quiet. “Where did you find the Lieutenant Colonel, Von Tracht?” he said in a booming query, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the earth when he spoke.

“I can explain everything in time,” you try to hurry things, “but know that this assault threatens to destroy your own soldiers! The missing battalion has been set up as the enemy you will fight, while the real Dawnseekers have long since escaped! I discovered this information by infiltrated their hideout, where I discovered practically no rebellious militia, but instead unwilling soldiers about to be fooled into fighting their comrades by foul collaborators of the Reich.”

“Collaboration with a foreign state to the detriment of the military is a serious charge, Lieutenant,” a Major said threateningly, looking to Weil, “I am curious as to what the Lieutenant General has to say about this. Remove his gag.”
Von Metzeler does so.

“Well, Lieutenant Colonel?” Von Harlopf asked, “What do you think?”

“All lies,” Weil said firmly, “I escaped on my own, when I was captured by these ruffians, who have somehow come under the impression that I am an agent against the Archduke. They have no proof of such.”

“There is plenty proof!” you cry, as you make a show of reaching into Weil’s pocket and pulling out the Seal of the Reich, gold and resplendent.

All around the table stared, gawking, at the seal. All of them knew exactly what it was, and what it could signify.

“Major General…” the Sergeant Major said slowly.

“I know.” Von Harlopf crossed his arms, “Issue a general suspension of operations.”

“Sir-“

“I know! Just do it!” the Major General slammed a hand on the table, sending the miniatures in all directions, “Order all units to assume a defensive posture. We cannot continue with so little knowledge, it would be against all principles of warfare.” He quickly righted some of the miniatures and moved them around, “Order 2nd Battalion of Panzers to mobilize and cut off the east, and for 1st and 2nd of Panzergrenadiers to extend their lines. Until we find out more information, we will besiege the place.”

The staff acted without question, and the tent became a flurry of activity again.

Major General Harlopf came around the table and stood before you. “I have many questions, Lieutenant,” he looked down his enormous nose at you, “Too many. But I have my responsibilities here, so while I appreciate your timely warning…I must ask you to report to the Military Police office with your findings, and give them your testimony as well as any evidence you have. I will meet with them later on this matter. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” You really couldn’t say anything else in response to a Major General.

“Good.” He nodded, “Now if you excuse me.”

“Major General sir.” You say, saluting as he turns around. He bumps into the table as he does so, causing the models to fly all over the place again. He sighs heavily before going back to work with a push stick.

>Follow orders and immediately report to the Military Police
>Bend orders and go to the Intelligence Office
>Delay orders and reunite with your comrades first
>Other

>>1113484
>Consult with Metzeler, he seems to know more of such matters.

You walk out with your compatriots, as well as Weil, and find a place where you cannot be overheard.

“Von Metzeler,” you ask the man who had somewhat become your first officer over the past couple of days, “What do you think should be done? The Major General ordered us to go to the Military Police with all this, not the Intelligence Office.”

You asked Von Metzeler this because of his relative expertise with the system, as well as circumvention of it. He didn’t like to make a spectacle of it, but his family was well known for being of unseemly sorts.

“It was an order, Von Tracht,” he replies, “He also said he would investigate later. We have no choice, if we want to avoid trouble. However, I would advise that the Military Police is beholden to the Von Blums, not the Archduke. Thus any information that comes to the Intelligence Office will be filtered, even modified perhaps.”

“So you think it’d be better to give Weil to the Intelligence Office then.” You conclude.

“Of course. That would be going against direct orders, however, even if it would not exactly be disobeying them in spirit. The Intelligence Office and the Military Police are still similar authorities, after all, just that one answers to the territorial governor while the other answers to the Archduke and his government.”

>Voting for previous still open

>>1113534
>What if we give him up to the Military Police, and immediately go to the Intelligence Office with the Dawnseeker guy and the papers? We were only ordered to give up Weil to the MP after all.

>>1113556
“What if we gave Weil to the Military Police, and then went straight to the Intelligence Office with the Dawnseeker guy and the papers? We were only ordered to give up Weil to the MPs, after all.” You propose.

“There is nothing wrong with that decision, but,” Metzeler countered, “what we have is ‘slow’ information, the sort the Intelligence Office combs through rather deliberately, even if what we have would demand more attention than normal. Weil is a high ranking officer, not a random nobody, and not only that, but we used the Imperial Seal to draw attention to him in particular. The Seal; that is the more valuable piece of ‘evidence’ we have, and that combined with Weil is something that would draw an immediate response from the Intelligence Office.”

“Is it that important?” Signy comments, “It’s just a little trinket, isn’t it? It could be fake just like anything else.”

“Forgery of one of the Kaiser’s Seals is incredibly difficult,” Metzeler explains, “Each one is personally marked by the Kaiser, and on top of that there are more than a few identifying markings for each one, when they were made, who they were assigned to for the privilege of awarding…although they are rare and elusive enough that the Intelligence Office has no way of knowing what the markings for the assignments mean besides theory, their presence among other proofing marks makes proper forgery quite difficult.”

“So basically that all means it’s super important then.” Signy clearly hadn’t finished processing what Metzeler said.

“Quite.” Von Metzeler said, “We have made it so wherever we put Weil, we have to put the Seal as well. I trust in your decision either way for this, Von Tracht, as I would make either choice in your place. I merely think that the most important person and piece of evidence would do more with one agency than the other.”

>Voting for previous still open, as well as any other “Other” actions

>>1113612
>Okaay... What if we come to the Intelligence and ask people there how to get to the Military Police office? Would they try to pounce onto such a valuable piece as a traitor Lt-Col. with a Kaiser's seal, and take him away from us against our will?
>To be frank, I'm all for giving him to Intelligence, but I'd still like to cover our butts.

>>1113636

Supporting

>>1113636

“Alright, alright,” you run your hand through your hair, “How about this. You know where the Intelligence Office branch here is, right?”

“Yes.” Von Metzeler said.

“Do you know where the Military Police Headquarters are?”

“…admittedly not.” Von Metzeler followed, “Not at the manor, I know.”

“Well,” you finish putting together your plot, “What if we asked the people at the Intelligence Office branch where we could find the Military Police HQ, since we’re supposed to turn in a very dangerous imperial collaborator, as well as the evidence incriminating him, to the MPs? Surely they would help us?”

“…Devious.” Von Metzeler said approvingly, “They couldn’t resist taking Weil off of our hands, and pushing us out the door with a note apologizing to the military police for seizing this suspect.”

“That’s what I hoped for,” you breathe out, “I’m all for handing him to Intelligence, you see, but our butts need to be covered. If the Intelligence Office does it for us, then that’s very convenient.”

>Go with this plot to “accidentally” turn Weil over to the Intelligence Office
>Follow orders instead, for better standing with local forces for not going over their heads
>Go somewhere else on the way there; Signy’s been a good sport about having had her face rearranged but you think she’s been scaring people with how she looks.
>Other

>>1114321
Accidentally bring Weil to intelligence

>>1114321
Go somewhere else on the way there; Signy’s been a good sport about having had her face rearranged but you think she’s been scaring people with how she looks.

>>1114321
>Go with this plot to “accidentally” turn Weil over to the Intelligence Office

>>1115601
>But get Malachi to escort Signy to a medic while we're doing it.

>>1115601
>>1115602
Going to go with this come Friday evening. For now, going to take the next couple of days off.

“Von Metzeler and I will take the budget staff car over to the Intelligence Office,” you tell the group, referring to the truck you came in on, “Malachi, take Signy to get some medical treatment. I think that gash is scaring people.”

No sooner had you said this had Malachi grabbed Signy and pulled her away before she could raise any objections to being left out due to injury.


“So where’s the Intelligence Office, then?” You ask Von Metzeler as you make it back to the truck. “Is it some secret building or does it have big flashing lights that say ‘Strossvald Intelligence Services’ or something on it?”

“Well…” Von Metzeler said pensively, “It is an odd situation. The Intelligence Office’s branch is in a building that is both the branch and a barber.”

“So it’s disguised as a barber shop.” You summarize, as it turns out, incorrectly.

“No, no,” Von Metzeler shakes his head, “It is the Intelligence Office Branch, but it is also a Barber. They run a barber out of the same building.”

Puzzling, but at least easy to find, then. “You hear that, old man?” you ask the farmer who has been your voluntary courier, “We need to go to the Barber.”

“Eh, which one?”

“The barber on Blen and 18th.” Von Metzeler says for you.

“Oh, that one,” the old farmer itches his thick white moustache, “The one with all the spooky fellers in it that like to ask a lotta questions. At least they do a good shave.”

Sounded about right.

“So what’da you boys do in the army, anyways?” The farmer made idle chat as you stepped around the cab, having arrived at the strange combination of intelligence organization and hair maintenance, “I drove horse trains full of beans and bullets. Notta whole lot a glam, yeh, but heavens knows the troops gotta be fed.”

“We’re tank commanders,” Von Metzeler replies.

“Ah, uh,” the old farmer’s eyes darted about, “Apologies, miluds.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut in. Given that the overwhelming majority of tank officers were of nobility, it was understandable that the farmer had reacted accordingly to learning what you were, but you weren’t a stickler about all the “my lord” crap, especially given that back at home very few dignified the Von Trachts with such overtures anyways.

The building was plainly labeled, in a way that was almost comical, “Barber and Intelligence Office.” You wondered shortly why they chose to put the barber before the government occupation.

The jingle of little bells announced you and Von Metzeler’s entry into the shop with Weil and the Dawnseeker in tow. There was a single man, dressed in clean white apparel with a finely groomed black moustache, washing his hands. He looked at you, uninterested.

“Any of you come for a haircut, then?” he asked, despite seeming to know deep down that none of you had.

>Actually, we’re lost. Can you tell us where the military police office is?
>Are you with the Intelligence Office or do you just cut hair? We need to talk to Intelligence.
>Trust Von Metzeler with the talking.
>Other

I won't be around for probably a few hours now, since I started later than I intended and I'm about to head off. I'll update on whatever once I get back.

>>1125009
Trust Von Metzeler with the talking.

>>1125567
Seconding
>>1125009

You nudge Von Metzeler with your elbow.

“What?” he hisses.

“You’re the expert in weird spy shit,” you nudge him again as you whisper out of the side of your mouth, “You take care of this.”

“Uh.” Metzeler said, with the confidence of an inchworm.

“Haircut?” the barber prompted again. “Shave?”

“Uh, no.” Metzeler said quickly, “I mean, we have people for the police.”

“And?”

“And…” Metzeler trailed off, “We have people. Important people, for the military police…”

The barber rolled his eyes. “Just wait there.”

As he went around the corner to head upstairs, you comment on Metzeler’s performance.

“What the hell was that?” you demand of him.

“You put me on the spot!” Metzeler said back sharply, “I don’t like lying.”

“Bull shit. What could you possibly be uncomfortable about?” You struggle to understand what Meteler’s malfunction was, “You come from a whole family of scam artists, at least you’re deceiving people for a good reason!”

Metzeler was about to say something, but you heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

The barber had returned with a man who appeared to be the reincarnation of a brick. Every part of him was somehow square, hard and edged and chipped as old baked clay. He was dressed the same as the barber, but you could feel something entirely different, and threatening, coming from him.

“Prisoners for the military police?” he asked, “Why bring them here?”

“If you’re so piss poor at lying,” you murmur to Von Metzeler, “Just do what you’d normally do.”

“These are no mere prisoners,” Metzeler firmed instantly, “These are an Imperial infiltrator and a traitor, a collaborator with the Grossreich from within our own armed forces. Their discovery here is of critical importance to the Archduke and Strossvald, and there must be an investigation opened here as soon as possible.”

“Code?” the bricklike man asked.

“Five.” Von Metzeler said, pulling the Imperial Seal from Weil’s pocket, “These are no mere sympathizers, but direct agents.”

“Don’t worry about taking them to the military police then,” the living rock says, “We’ll take them right now.”

“We were ordered to take them to the military police…” you break in, trying to sound uncertain.

“As I said,” the brick barber continues, “We will take them right now, right here. You don’t have much of a choice anymore, even if you did want to take them to the MPs.” He whistled in a low tone, and four black clad masked men with submachineguns rose up from trapdoors under the floor tiles.

“We’ll gladly turn them over to the Intelligence Office, then.” Von Metzeler pushed Weil and the Dawnseeker forward, where the masked men grabbed them and pulled them under the floor, the trapdoors falling shut after them and showing no trace there were even openings at all.

“Also,” you add in, “These.” You pull some of the documents from Metzeler’s coat. Soon enough, they have all been delivered to the brick.

“So no haircut then.” The moustached barber tried again. He didn’t get the answer he wanted that time either.

>Go and try to find where your people are in the line
>Go back to the manor and wait
>Go to the MPs and inform them that your prisoners were taken before doing either of those things (list what you do after that)
>Other

>>1126279
>Go to the MPs and inform them that your prisoners were taken
>Go and try to find where your people are in the line

>>1126279
>Go to the MPs and inform them that your prisoners were taken
>Go and try to find where your people are in the line
IO has style if nothing else

You ask the Intelligence Office operative where the Military Police Headquarters is, and while he tells you, he adds on;

“Though I don’t see much point in you going there now. How about I just call them and tell them what the situation is?”

“We were still ordered to go there, it would feel…improper not to do so.” Von Metzeler replies.

“I’ll call ahead anyways,” the intelligence brick held up a hand, “That way you won’t be hassled over it.”


“He seemed pretty nice for a government spook,” you comment to Metzeler as you are both chased out by the tinkling of the door bells.

“You would be nice too if a couple of low ranking officers strolled in and handed you a triple promotion on a silver platter,” Von Metzeler said, taking a more mercenary view of what had happened, “These high level breaches in security do not happen often; especially not with the Reich, not since the last time they tried to break through the Imperial Gate.”

Despite the Grossreich being an ancestral enemy of Strossvald, had not been in a state of war with your country for over forty years. The losses they sustained the last time they broke like waves against cliffs battering their armies against the Imperial Gate were so devastating in light of how little ground they took, Imperial strategic organizers had largely written off the bountiful and disparate lands to their east. The lands to the west of the Reich’s borders were wild and barren, but were at least not nearly as fiercely defended.

The offices of the Military Police HQ were not far away; only a minute or so, and no sooner had you come in the door had the receptionist told you to leave.

“Already know what you’re here for,” the old woman at the desk said crankily, “Get out of here.”

You did not need any more encouragement.

You decide that it’s finally time to reunite with the rest of your allies, who should be somewhere in the battle line besieging the Dawnseekers’ base.

The problem was, though, that you didn’t have a clue as to who and where they had been assigned to. At the very least, you knew they were in 1st battalion, so they wouldn’t be with 2nd battalion swinging out around to the far side of the base’s perimeter. You can’t think of a better way to find them than asking around back at high command, which you promptly return to.

You get bounced around back and forth asking after where your platoon went; despite them being theoretically quite the standouts, as all of the vehicles lack proper company markings, nobody can quite tell you where they are, even if they had heard of the vehicles in question.

That finally changed when you went by battalion support HQ.

“Oh, an m/32 without company markings traveling with an m/28 and that fossil of a car?” a radioman said in a break between ordering people around over the net, “Yeah, I know it. The thing shit itself on the road and we had it towed in.”

The m/32 tank, while quite a modern and effective design in theory, had its flaws. This was merely a highlight of one of its primary faults; that the way it was engineered was incredibly intolerant of abuse. An m/32 whose engine was abused or was otherwise pushed beyond recommended limits would break down astonishingly quickly. Its tough armor, strong gun and good speed and off road capabilities mattered little when the engine faltered and refused to do anything but make annoying screeching sounds until a mechanic dove into it to find out what had fallen off or broken. The Von Blum model, with what appeared to be heavier armor and a larger gun, probably was no more tolerant of abuse than the original model.

“So where did the others go?” you ask the battalion maintenance coordinator.

“Dunno,” he said, shrugging, “I can tell you who they were with. They were attached to 3rd company, so if you find them, you’ll probably find your pals, too.”

>Find your m/32 at the maintenance pool in the city
>Go to your front line crews
>Try to get a hole of 3rd company and have your people sent back
>Other

>>1126461
>Find your m/32 at the maintenance pool in the city

>>1126461
>Find your m/32 at the maintenance pool in the city
Then
>Try to get a hole of 3rd company and have your people sent back