Your eye hurt, your back had sprouted new pains, and your breath was still shallow and quick. This was nothing special compared to what you’d been through in the past, you tried to tell yourself, but it was hard to feel as though such things had happened to the same person as now. You were Richter Von Tracht…are, Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht. You were plenty of other things too, but you didn’t know how up you were for dealing with all of that. For now, all you had to do was survive until you got back to your men, and everything would be better, at least. A colder and harder winter had rushed into Ellowie in your absence, and with the wind of riding on top of a tank, your exposed face was weathering an icy chill. You did your best to hide yourself in Maddalyn’s pale blue scarf, away from the wind. It still smelled like her, and it was comforting, transporting you elsewhere, to another place, another time, another state of mind.

From Sosaldt, to Ellowie, you’d had a harder journey than expected. Maybe you had to prove to yourself that you could do it, but were your wounds worth that self-assurance? The surgeon who had treated you said that she, at least, couldn’t repair the damage to your eye- or rather, the section of your head near it. If it was permanent…well, you’d have to just…deal with it, then. The uncertainty of the future was better than the uncertainty of the present, which already had quite enough weighing upon you.

No more Twaryian raiders would be ambushing you, with Eakova routing away from the Border Zone. An ambush had forced her to abandon the Field Workshop truck the Iron Hogs contingent had, something she was quite sore about, but the encounter could have gone much worse. As crowded as the tank’s inside and outside had become, at least you were all still among the living.
Mercenaries were hardly an uncommon sight within the Border Zone, or in occupied Ellowie in general, so checkpoints were never difficult. Just inconsistent delays on your way to your home sector- your allies- your friends. Perhaps. The lands steadily became familiar again; you spied UGZ-09 in the distance, and wondered what might have transpired in your absence. It was quiet, though in the sense that the UGZ was, not the Border Zone sector in general. Such would have been too generous a welcome, as stray gunshots still echoed over the hills and plains.

Above, though it was cloudy, you could sometimes still see the glow of presence creatures either floating freely or on their way to the mountains, in cycles that went unheeded by most of men. Cycles that might have been unheeded by you, were it not for how your life played out. Of all the things that removing your conditioning had taken away, you thought idly with an upward gaze, why hadn’t this knowledge and sense for what lay hidden from normal eyes been taken? Rather than your knowledge, your ability to do battle, to defend yourself without desperation. Then again…perhaps you were bound to this other world by your choice of mate.

Your choice?

No, none of that, now. Your mind was free. You could be certain now, surely, of what decisions you had made that had been yours, and those that hadn’t.

Right?

“Someone in the road ahead. Cut the lights.” You overheard the auburn, scruffy haired tank commander announce to her crew from the open cupola of the tank you rode upon. “Slow down, we’re gonna look from a bit away ‘fore we check them out close. Could be a trap.” She turned out after the tank ground to a halt and reached out to tap your shoulder. “Hey.” She handed you her binoculars, “Take a look. That seem like a local up ahead, by that lamp on the road?”

This was one of the rare roads with occasional lamps, meant for logistical traffic and heavily patrolled. An ambush being set here was unlikely, but you accepted the binoculars and had a look…they weren’t a local, per se. A slim, short blonde haired woman in a simple, dark green dress and heavy cloak. The most unusual thing about her was that you were used to seeing her in less, and definitely not in a dress. She was looking out in your direction- her scar seemingly hidden under makeup, but even through binoculars and dim lamplight you could see the glint in her vivid green eyes like light gleaming off the edge of a naked sword.

“I…know them…” you squeezed out of your throat. “I-It’s…fine…” A recent difficulty. For whatever reason, it was oddly difficult to put your thoughts to proper speech. Thinking of what to say was easy enough (when nothing terrifying was distracting you), but actually making your thoughts known, on the other hand…

“…Well, it better be,” Eakova said sorely, before ordering the tank forward again.

It wasn’t like Anya to be out in the middle of nowhere by herself, you thought as the tank lumbered forth. She’d have known something was coming- and would have brought a way to deal with it if she had to. Overconfident, brash, and reckless described Anya, but in your experience she was hardly ever unprepared. Hence, you scanned nervously for the tank ready to blow you away if she thought you suspicious. An unreasonable fear, but one you were helpless not to entertain.

As the tank drew closer to your retinue, you watched her expression shift from apprehensive, to wary, to annoyed, to resigned. The tank stopped next to her, and immediately, one of the mechanics in back seemed to recognize her, in spite of her covering her scar with makeup.

“Well, holy hell, is that little ol’ creampuff? You’ve grown a lot, haven’t ya?”

She couldn’t have possibly grown that much, you thought to yourself, as Anya’s lip twitched. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?” She was doing her best to speak differently. Not very well.

Best for you to save some time, you thought uneasily as you slid off the tank and pulled down your scarf. “…Huh…Hi…” you sputtered out like a loser.

“…” Anya paused, blinked at you, then took a few steps forward and squinted at you face in the dim light. Her movement was slightly strange- her right seemed stiffer, and her right arm was being kept limp at her side while her left hand did any gesticulating. “…Richter? What? What the…” she paced sideways, “What the hell happened to your face? What are you doing here early? You’re not supposed to be here for another week!”

“He got himself shot after he ditched us, while we were escorting him north.” Eakova supplied, unhelpfully. "We had to split up and chase him down the fucking Funnel where we found him like that."

“…What.” Anya glared up at Eakova. “You ugly looking bitch, you just let him go?”

“Fuck you, skinny, that wasn’t my fault. A cockroach let him off.” Eakova snapped back.

Somehow this was a reasonable explanation, and Anya went from looking ready to jump up the tank and beat Eakova’s head in to glaring back at you. “…Yeah, the Cockroach would do that. You, however…” You didn’t even realize you were flat on your back until you realized what you were looking at was a cloudy night sky. “What the fuck were you thinking!?” Anya lifted you with her left hand and threw you roughly against the wheel of the tank. For Anya, it felt weaker than usual, but you raised your hands to your face in reflexive fear regardless. You were paralyzed as fear and confusion wrestled with one another, just as Anya pushed you by your neck against the large road wheel of the tank, made an audible Ugh, and grimaced as she raised her right hand to wrest away your hands and slap you, then strike again with the back of that same hand, before crying out, “Ghhaggh!” as she whacked you in the face hard enough to knock you over, leaving you lying in the dust and snow with her panting heavily above you, as her left hand shakily went to squeeze her other upper arm.

“Hey, ease off,” one of the mechanics demanded sharply, disembarking and landing next to you. "Already risking our payout deliverin' him as he is right now."

“I was done,” Anya snarled, but she snatched down and dragged you up by your collar regardless, bringing you up to her face. “Though maybe I’m not. You unspeakable retard. Did you lose an eye from just fucking off for no reason? What the fuck is the matter with you? Explain yourself right…fffucking now!”

You’re never seen Anya lose her composure like this before. Daring to peek out from your hands in front of your face, you saw eyes alight with fury, with heavy, dark circles beneath, teeth grit and lip quivering, her right side being carried lower than the other.

>Explain the purpose of your misadventure, whether you thought it for good or ill. Surely, Anya would understand. (Write In)
>Nothing you could say would satisfy her and you wouldn’t be able to speak the words right anyways. May as well just let her slug you again and get this wretched night over with.
>Try and smack her right back
>Other?

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

>>3877040
>>Nothing you could say would satisfy her and you wouldn’t be able to speak the words right anyways. May as well just let her slug you again and get this wretched night over with.

>>3877040
>>Explain the purpose of your misadventure, whether you thought it for good or ill. Surely, Anya would understand. (Write In)
I had to get back... A week was to long

>>3877040
>>3877064
This. Keep the responses short and coherent. Also mention that our eye is fine.

>>3877040
>Nothing you could say would satisfy her and you wouldn’t be able to speak the words right anyways. May as well just let her slug you again and get this wretched night over with.

She'll see the extent of the damage, physical and mental, soon enough.
>Other?
"Are you hurt?"

>>3877022
Finally caught up with this shit just in time for the new thread. This story sure took a turn recently.
Hey tanq, you implied in a previous thread that you were involved in technical theatre in Alaska. What a small world, if so. Even then, I highly doubt we have ever worked together, but I thought it was a funny coincidence considering the obscurity of this story

>>3877721
+1

>>3877040
>>3877721
+2

>>3877040
>Other?
Spit in her face

>>3877034
Haha, so "creampuff" holds a special meaning for Anya.

>>3877040
Is she tsundere for us? Tanq, stop!

>>3877040
Supprting these >>3877064 >>3877480

I overslept.

>>3877064
>>3877480
>>3878156
Anya should know that bullets don't hurt.

>>3877063
>>3877721
>>3877727
>>3877773
Beat me more

>>3877905
Kiss

Writing.

>>3877973
It seems doubtful that this anger is a request for attention!

>>3877727
An interesting turn I'd hope.
As for the other thing, yeah, funny coincidence, though at least, Alaska's so big that the three population centers with five digits are still pretty far apart.

Ne ne, Tanqu-san! What's the biggest non-mortar gun currently on an in-service fighting vehicle?

You didn’t have an explanation that would satisfy Anya- and even if you did, you knew you couldn’t speak the words right anyways. The desire to return as soon as possible seemed like it would only invite condemnation, and you’d rather have said condemnation be from being silent. Save for one thing you wanted to know right away.

“Are you…hurt..?” you coughed out.

Anya stared at you, then smoldered at you, “I asked you a question, dipshit.”

“…So did…so did I…” Your answer was a fist just below the ribs. “Huk!” You struggled for breath to get your wind back as Anya tugged you up roughly.

“Fuck you too, then,” she muttered bitterly. “Whatever. Whatever got your eye must have gotten some of your brain, too. Can’t even fuckin’ talk right.”

“My eye…is fine…”

“Shut up.” Anya said sharply, then called up to Eakova. “Hey. I’m gonna call my people out. So don’t shoot at them unless you wanna die.”

“Try it, slag.” Eakova challenged back.

“Don’t call creampuff a slag, she was around way before you were.”

Anya ignored the barrage and signaled off north. Once more, you were reminded of just how quiet your Valsten-appropriated tanks were as you didn’t even hear the tank start up and get moving over the sound of the Iron Hogs’ tank, and only noticed it proper when it existed a defilade before a copse of woods. No lime wash had been applied- it was still in Strossvald Blue as it had been when you left. It hadn’t been that long since snowfall- you supposed there could have been a period of uncertainty with melts before it was decided that the snow was here to stay.

“Lotta shit has happened since you and grumpus left,” Anya said, hands in her pockets as she watched the tank (either the X-51 or X-52) approach. “UGZ-07’s mostly calmed down, and the NLF’s having to try and build itself back up after that. Seems they took more than they bargained on. Bigger problem is that a new Twaryian unit’s shacked up opposite our side of the border zone. Day after the New Year, they came over heavy an’ hard. Had to call in the Blue Knights nearby to be able to match ‘em. Whole armored company, launched a raid on New Jorgenstohn. Could have been nasty.” Anya idly touched her right arm. “Weren’t no joke. With you and your second gone, I had to drag out Wielzci…y’know, the LT from the Ellowian platoon. First one. He was a tanker, and I needed another commander. Thing is…when we met ‘em, they booked it real quick. We didn’t manage to knock any of ‘em out, they took out one of the Blue Knight’s cars, but they didn’t do a lot of damage to the town, so…’s shit. That was five days ago. Guess they were measuring us up.”

Five days…so today was January 7th. You hadn’t asked around about the date recently, so it was good to get back on that track.

“Only a day later,” Anya breathed out, “They started hitting about more. First platoon got into a fight on patrol. Then I went out to see…’Stache wanted to wait, but I didn’t agree. Good thing, ‘cause they called in reinforcements. Our reinforcements were better, though. Managed to sneak up on ‘em, cause I didn’t glue my ass to the tank.” Anya couldn’t help but crack a grin, “Man. Tear gas is pretty good for tanks, it turns out. That ‘r they didn’t expect no country girls throwing grenades. Maybe that. So yeah. That’s why there’s an extra tank in the motor pool. Evened things out from the shit before.” The tank was coming close. “Couple other fights happened in the next couple days, we’ve been given a bit of a breather…hope that’s cause we knocked enough stuffing outta the Twaryians for them to need a break too.”

”They’re fighting Twaryians, hear?” one of the Iron Hog mechanics said to Eakova.

“Whatever.” Eakova said back.

“Did you have to hire these shit heads?” Anya snapped in reference to the conversation manifesting behind her, “Not anybody else? Dusters Company?”

“Rolled up in the Republic.” The head mechanic said.

“Gilded Brass, then.” Anya challenged.

“Moved south and got permanent exclusive contract after the Republic said you either work for them or you don’t work at all.”

You doubted Anya wanted to hear that you weren’t actually the one who hired anybody. You merely held the contract that the Republic was paying for. Granted, that did mean this contingent of Iron Hogs, including Illger and the rest of them when they arrived, was under your authority.

“God damn it.” Anya muttered, “Fuck it. Come on, fairy boy, you’ve hung around these shit heads long enough.” She pulled you towards the X-51 (you were decently sure) and knocked on the tank as it slowed to a stop, her wheeling around to its flank.

The door opened, and you saw Stein in the gunner’s place, as he leaned out and gave you a look over. “…Wow. Uh. Welcome back, commander. You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“Save the heartfelt reunion for later,” Anya said, “Get out of that chair and let this moron sit in it. Ride in back where you can talk to the ghosts or whatever.”

“Why do I have to give up my place and not Jorgen? Or you?” Stein crossly demanded.

“Because Jorgen can beat me up and you can’t.”

“…Screw off,” Stein removed himself from the turret, “Could beat you up now, I bet…”

“Do it, bitch boy.” Anya sneered at him.

Stein gave you a look like this was your fault, somehow, as he stepped off the tank and motioned you in. “Something happen to your eye?”

“Got shot…” you said distantly, “It’s fine…”

“…Just getting a feeling with funny eyes, is all.” Stein jumped up to the back of the tank. “Let’s go, commander. Bitch…er, the Sergeant has a point. Don’t want to stay out too long at night in these times. Twaryians fight sneaky better than they do in the open, and they’re pretty good at the latter as is. The infantry’s certainly learned that…”

This didn’t exactly fill you with hope…but best to just take it as it happened. As you closed the turret door behind you, you suddenly felt safer- calmer. Being within a steel shell and close to friends was a warmth to repel the chill of fear that had been omnipresent. Yet what was absent was still absent…so the fear’s retreat only revealed so much…empty.

Outside you heard Anya talking more with the Iron Hogs briefly- sharing the platoon frequency, you supposed, before she slipped lithely through the top, in spite of the condition of her right arm, before donning a headset once more. “Can’t wait to get this shitty dress off.”

“Dehntev to weht,” you heard Jorgen say. “Eh, Kommander? Heil, ‘gain.”

“Shaddup.” Aya said as she hooked her headset into the intercom. “Radioman, we’re all aboard. Switch to normal platoon net and tell these mercs here we’re heading out. Driver, get us going. Thirty clicks an hour.” You had put on a spare headset and hooked yourself in to hear the tail end of Hans asking if their tank could go that fast, to which Anya responded, “Yes, they can go that fast. Unless the Hogs got five times worse at doing their friggin’ jobs. Let’s go, now.”

“Hey, is the boss on the intercom yet?” Hans asked. You gave your weary reply. “Yeesh, you sound like shit.”

“Save the goddamn chatter, I said.” Anya said back. “Unless you want to practice telling stories to the Twaryians.”

-----

You noticed the tank Anya had evidently captured- it wasn’t a type you had seen before- not that with your recent gap in knowledge, you had necessarily never known of it. It looked like a smaller T-15, not quite as straight angled, with a gun about the size of the X-50s. It was also stouter, flatter, like somebody had pressed an iron on it.

“Don’t mind all the earthworks,” Anya said of the entrenchments that now snaked through the company headquarters camp, “The Twaryians had the bright idea to start mortaring us at night a couple days ago. They’ve been off target, but you never know when they’ll risk getting an observer close enough for us to snatch ‘em just to make our lives worse. We haven’t been able to set up anything more than dugouts for now, better’n nothing.”

You really didn’t want to come back to this sort of harassment. It wasn’t like you’d ever done anything like this to the Twaryians- this must have been the idea of the newcomers.

“Hey, where’ye goin’,” Anya reached out and grabbed you by the collar, “Hold on, you’re not goin’ straight to goddamn bed, you’ve gotta read reports. Reports like you made me write up all the damn time anyways.”

There was no choice but to acquiesce, even though you’d have liked to have caught up with your crew, which were who you had been following…

>Before an update on Company Integrity and Resources, it must be established what has happened in your absence. This will be done by allocating an event to each group. Different groups will have dealt with the events differently.

You began to read sleepily through reports, though your concentration wasn’t helped by Anya’s warning of night time mortar fire. From a trench you saw in the center of camp, any mortar fire could at least be potentially replied to be your own mortar triad. If they were of similar caliber. You supposed.

After the reports on the events Anya had spoken of back when you were first reunited, there were three more incidents, all of which had no involvement from the tanks attached to the company. One was an encounter with Twaryian-backed insurgents- a small scuffle, relatively, against a group of a bit more than a dozen intimidating a local village. Another was a counter-raid into Twaryian territory, against greater numbers, helped by a contingent from the Blue Knights Armored Cavalry, to disrupt raids such as had been occurring lately. The last was a relatively major engagement, against a combined attack of enemy infantry and armored assets over a large hill, that necessitated the reinforcement of a platoon- particularly harrowing, from what you read.

>1st Platoon, Commanded by Lieutenant Borscholm- Likely the least experienced leader of the Company, and unproven as he is uncertain.
>2nd Platoon, Commanded by Lieutenant Abetz- A decently capable officer, in theory, but his energy is contrasted with doubt, as he is known to be frozen solid in an otherwise steady step by misfortune and surprise.
>3rd Platoon, Commanded by Lieutenant Kristoph- The most experienced and tested of the Netillian lieutenants of the unit, and his unit the same, though his great initiative is tempered by said quickness of action often being reckless and ill prepared, and the unit only freshly recovered from their bloody battle in UGZ-07.
>4th Platoon, Commanded by Lieutenant Wielczi- A hardened former Ellowian officer, with seasoned ex-Ellowians behind him. When not slotted in a tank by your Retinue, he and his men are the most capable of the unit- but probably not the best motivated to fight for a cause that supports those they may still see as adversaries.

Which are to be matched to-

>The skirmish with Insurgents
>The Attack across the Border
>The Battle on the Big Hill (Involved Two Platoons)
The same platoon may be assigned to multiple events, of course.

Sorry this took a while. I guess the wheels need to be greased more.

>>3878324
If by non-mortar, howitzers don't count, then the 127 millimeter destroyer turret gun on the actual Red Tide tank, pride of the Blood Suns mercenary company, and not the fake you destroyed.

If you mean in actual production and service and on an actual tank rather than an assault gun or self propelled gun (like the modified T-8s with 15 cm howitzers), then the KT-29 "landship" the Reich uses has a 10.5 centimeter direct fire howitzer in its turret armament. The largest high velocity cannon on a tank (known of on the continent) is the Ellowian Tank Destroyer P5-21TE which mounts a 7.5 centimeter cannon, which Richter has seen before...in the hands of mercenaries.

File: T-15 Armata.jpg (68 KB, 1000x541)

68 KB JPG

>>3878773
>It looked like a smaller T-15
Holy shit that's some advanced tech.

>>3878775
>1st Platoon on skirmish duty
>3rd Platoon across the border
>2nd & 4th to the Hill, give 4th command if one of them needs to be in command.

>>3878806
Hot damn, 105mm in the 30s. That's some shit.

>>3878775
>3rd platoon vs Insurgents
>2nd at the border
>4th and 1st at the big battle
I don't know how much mental damage has been whored away, so keeping the 3rd out of anything big seems like a good idea. Giving the least experienced platoon a hard assignment with the support of the most experienced platoon seems like a good way to get them up to snuff and balance out the experience in the company.
2nd platoon's commander would have had armored support to fall back on, so it couldn't have been too unfortunate.

>>3878811
Supporting the platoon allocations. Also where's Krause? If Richter and Metzeler are going take a long while to recover from their mental lobotomies he's the only functional Strossvalder left.

>>3878839
He's around! You just haven't met with him yet.

>>3878811
Supporting,
Kristolph probably would've done best on a raid and wouldn't have trusted 1st to any big battles yet.

tanq are we still going by handing out specialized equipment based on who needed it rather than attaching it to a specific platoon permanently?
Also who in group left behind "officially" made these calls? Was it the Netillians Captain?

>>3878811
>>3878839
>>3879089
1-3-2-4

>>3879089
3-2-4-1

Going to be asking for 3 sets of 3d100, though first, bonuses to be applied for performance are-
1st Platoon- +5 for New Model Machine Guns (Insurgent Skirmish)
3rd Platoon-+10 for Regular Experience, +20 from Equipment, Reduced Casualties (NMG, Munitions Caster Team, Stormtrooper Spec) (Border Attack), -5 for Shaken (Lingering), +5 for Aggressive Leader on Attack
2nd Platoon- The misfortune of being first contact. (Battle on the Big Hill)
4th Platoon- +20 for Seasoned Experience, +10 from Equipment (NMG, Munitions Caster Team), +5 for Ellowians on Defensive (Battle on the Big Hill)
Major engagements get the support of the medium mortar attachment for another +10 (All save first). All bonuses are on top of a base of 30- so, for example, 4th Platoon would have a Combat Ability of Base 30, 20 from experience, 10 from equipment, and in defensive scenarios they have a further bonus for 65 bonus to roll.

Now to put the complicated cherry on top I'm going to list the stages and DCs for reference on degrees of success. Success from earlier stages will affect later ones.

For the Insurgent Skirmish, the three stages are Initiation (DC 90), Battle (DC 60), and Pursuit (DC 100)
For the Border Raid, there'll be Infantry Attack (DC 110), Armored Cavalry Attack(55- flat for simplicity), and Exfiltration (DC 150)
And for the Battle on the Big Hill, We'll have Initial Contact where only 2nd Platoon rolls, then the Pitched Battle where both 2nd and 4th Platoon get a roll, for Initial Contact (DC 100), Pitched Battle Second (DC 100) and Pitched Battle Fourth (DC 100). Both Pitched Battle rolls are simultaneous.

If this sounds overcomplicated don't worry I'm just laying out how I'm deciding numbers you don't have to add anything up. Gap in degree of success does not necessarily mean damage is increased or decreased depending on the situation.

Anyways give me those 3 sets of 3d100.


>>3879089
>tanq are we still going by handing out specialized equipment based on who needed it rather than attaching it to a specific platoon permanently?
Since that was what was (sort of? It's sensical) decided upon, yes. Though of course it would only have been on a platoon expecting to need it when they went out. That body armor the stormtrooper squad wears is a heavy bitch, after all, and these guys walk wherever they go. Stormtrooper spec is also specifically for attack and storming positions, so it wouldn't be taken on patrol or in confrontations expected to be not be in assault range. The body armor isn't resistant against rifle caliber fire, after all.
>Also who in group left behind "officially" made these calls? Was it the Netillians Captain?
They would have been officially made by Captain Kelwin, yes, who would also at least be near these affairs. Though a forceful personality would likely sway him on tactical decisions.

Rolled 78, 64, 91 = 233 (3d100)

>>3879204
>They would have been officially made by Captain Kelwin, yes, who would also at least be near these affairs.

Hokay then, let's see if he learned anything while Richter was getting a free lobotomy.

Higher is better btw just because that's easier for this.

Rolled 85, 2, 42 = 129 (3d100)

>>3879204

Rolled 54, 23, 63 = 140 (3d100)

>>3879204

>>3879223
First Platoon, Skirmish: Initiation (113/90), Battle (99/60), Pursuit (126/100)
Two degrees of success, three degrees pass, two degrees pass.

>>3879231
Third Platoon and Blue Knights, Border Raid: Infantry Attack (145/110), Armored Cavalry Attack (2/55), Exfiltration (102/150)
Three degrees of success, five degrees of failure (dayum), four degrees of failure (though at a stage and for a task that's significantly less "dayum")

>>3879248
Second Platoon and Fourth Platoon, Battle on the Big Hill: Initial Contact (84/100), Pitched Battle 2nd Platoon (53/100), Pitched Battle 4th Platoon (125/100)
One degree of failure, four degrees of failure, two degrees of success.

Writing. Not a good week for second platoon.
Interesting how everything was spread evenly. Not that that's unreasonable, but being involved in two major engagements would have made a unit "Tired"

>>3879278
RIP blue knights. We hardly knew ye

>>3879328
At least that Kommissar's position is worse now.

You began to read the reports, by the buzzing electric lamplight of the desk in the headquarters staff tent. Anya’s reports were in a completely different voice than how she normally talked. You wondered just how hard it was for her to hold back- or if she changed into a completely different person altogether.


In response to reports of Twaryian backed insurgents harassing an Ellowian village, 1st Platoon, commanded by Lieutenant Borscholm and advised by Sergeant Nowicki, was dispatched in order to find and intercept what was reported to be a relatively small insurgent group on the morning of January 4th, 1933. Considering an earlier engagement against another Twaryian backed cell, these were thought to be remnants or stragglers. First Platoon successfully ambushed this group after successfully predicting the group’s route taken from their predicted base to the village.

In a brief fight, fourteen insurgents were captured, and one killed, as the prepared interception took them completely by surprise from multiple angles, prompting a quick surrender. The quantity of prisoners taken ensured an efficient on the spot interrogation to find their base resulted in fruit- so rapid were the developments that a further ten prisoners were captured upon raiding the base, including a pair of leaders of the so-called Revolutionary League.

The capture of these leaders and the eradication of this base has, in the short term, crippled the ability of said insurgents to operate in this sector, if there are any left. Casualties among 1st Platoon were insignificant, with only one soldier admitted to the clinic for a sprained ankle.


The report on the incident where 1st Company encountered the enemy earlier in the week had mentioned casualties at one dead and six wounded, so their casualties being nonexistent on this assignment was reassuring. All in all, a grand outing worthy of praise. Yet it was only one among several. You kept reading through the reports.


Following the large scale attempted raid on New Jorgenstohn and a subsequent raid where 1st Platoon and its Strossvalder Detachment were engaged on the field by both infantry and armored contacts, a reprisal raid was prepared and conducted with the goal of disrupting further Twaryian operations, in a manner proportionate to earlier raids, as is unspoken rule concerning these skirmishes. A task force composed of 1st Company’s 3rd Platoon, as well as the 2nd Platoon and an Armored Recon section of the Blue Knights 12th Armored Cavalry Battalion’s 1st company was assembled. The task force was commanded by Captain Kelwin, aided by Sergeant Nowicki, and 3rd Platoon was commanded by Lieutenant Kristoph, while the Blue Knights contingent was commanded by their 2nd Platoon Commander Lieutenant Arlatz.

The supply and assembly base was located by advance elements, and the attack was launched at 0700 hours on January 5th of 1933. However, the armor component commanded by Arlatz did not attack on schedule, and only began attack movement at approximately 0720 hours. By this time, although 3rd Platoon’s assault had captured the supply base and routed the enemy, several armored contacts from the enemy camp had been crewed and started, and the ensuing engagement between Twaryian armor and the Blue Knights saw the Blue Knights’ tank contingent knocked out in its entirety, and Lieutenant Arlatz killed in the battle for no loss of Twaryian armor. The lack of platoon or company anti-tank weaponry was severely felt as the victorious Twaryian armor forced 3rd platoon to appropriate enemy anti-armor weaponry to drive away the foe.

With the only element of the armor contingent remaining being the armored reconnaissance section and slowed by efforts to recover the wounded, the extraction went poorly, as a Twaryian quick reaction force composed of armor and infantry dismounts caught up with the retreating 3rd platoon and engaged 3rd platoon in a running battle only ended with the use of the reconnaissance elements to distract the armored contacts in order to allow the less mobile elements of the task force the opportunity to retreat under cover of mortar delivered smoke, which resulted in one armored car being knocked out. Enemy pursuit was finally broken by emergency dispatch of company armored assets, where a brief battle between three Strossvalder tanks commanded by Sergeant Nowicki knocked out two enemy tanks and damaged one other before all units were able to disengage.

The use of other units’ assets in the role of delaying action was not authorized by Captain Kelwin, being a decision by Sergeant Nowicki. As the author of this report, Sergeant Nowicki obligated to inform of this as well as the investigation requested by Captain Edelschwert for misuse of assigned assets. Casualties of 3rd Platoon were six killed, ten wounded, most of these from the retreat. During the assault, body armor was able to prevent several instance of severe wounding. The Blue Knights contingent suffered a loss of all vehicles except one medium armored car type NCC-E-10 along with ten killed and twenty wounded. Projected enemy casualties are approximately sixty killed or wounded. The mission to destroy the supply base, in spite of setbacks, was completed as fuel reserves and ammunition stockpiles were destroyed by explosive demolitions.


Below the cutting line there was a spiteful diatribe written in Anya’s handwriting, presumably to be excised upon submission…and given its formatting, delivered to a certain party.

Dear Pencil Dick Cock Hungry Ass Bandit,

Fucking shithead. Fuck you. It’s not my fault your morons were incompetent. I didn’t have to let Baby Face get your men back from those smoking hulls. We could have just left and none of our people would have been caught later. Fuck yourself and die. You tell high command I got your people killed, eat a fat fucking donkey dick and choke on it. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fu-

The condemnations repeated until it seemed like her hand got tired. Anya’s fury could be fully taken in later- for now, there was the final report, on the “Battle on the Big Hill,” as it was called, that had taken place a mere two days past, in the evening.


At approximately 1630 hours on January 5th, 1933, the 2nd Platoon of 1st Company of the 5th Combined Light Infantry Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Abetz, came under attack by a large Twaryian raiding force while on patrol. Outnumbered and outmatched by armored and infantry contact, 2nd Platoon assumed a defensive posture on Grabarz Hill. 4th Platoon, commanded by Lieutenant Wielczi and advised by Sergeant Nowicki, was dispatched to reinforce them as well as the mortar teams being dispatched to aid in defense.

A fierce battle ensued, where an enemy armored attack upon 2nd Platoon threatened to disperse them, without anti-tank weaponry to oppose them, until a skillful attack by Lieutenant Wielzci using the allocated platoon Munition Caster forced the retreat of enemy armor through the use of tear gas grenades and counterattacks that brushed away Twaryian infantry support and buttoned their armor.

The presence of mortar support proved to be a decisive factor in repelling the enemy, as the attack ceased at sunset, at approximately 1950 hours, the enemy taking advantage of darkness to withdraw. Casualties to 2nd Platoon were heavy, with eighteen killed and twenty seven wounded, Lieutenant Abetz being among the wounded. 4th Platoon suffered three killed and seven wounded, with enemy losses in killed and wounded approximated at twenty five.

Armor support would have been forthcoming in this battle, but the company armor assets were immobilized for want of fuel.


…Judge above, 2nd Platoon had been eviscerated. Forty five casualties was near three fifths of the platoon’s manpower, in this single battle. Anya’s reports were not finished, though, and you read on. The final section was an analysis of all the week’s happenings- and a conclusion based off such.

File: 5th1stcompanyweek3.jpg (558 KB, 1500x1500)

558 KB JPG

These battles have made it clear even to the most generous of observers that the Twaryians are all but at a state of war with Netilland and its allies in the region. The large scale raid upon New Jorgenstohn and the attack at Grabarz Hill were both disproportionate to prior actions against the Twaryians, and this is a clear sign that, more than mere skirmishing, the Twaryians intend to directly destabilize the region, a clear breech of terms set by the Treaty of Perlowieza. Diplomatic consequences will prove useless in the face of such flagrant violations, thus, escalation of force is the sole viable response, or else the Twaryians will be on a war footing while we are not, and we will be quickly overwhelmed.

Anti-Tank weaponry has been severely lacking for the infantry. With insufficient fuel for armor operations as the rate of fighting increases, the infantry will not be able to rely on the dispatch of our armor, as has been demonstrated. Therefore, either the company fuel allocation must be significantly increased, or anti-tank countermeasures must be provided, lest preventable casualties be suffered.



That was all. You leaned back in the chair, and flinched when you thought a mortar shell was whistling in, only for it to be the wind blowing. Could you be blamed? You’d only been under actual mortar fire once, and that had been…when you were different.

You supposed, at least, it was only a day until Requisition requests day for the next week- time to recoup losses, perhaps demand some of the anti-tank rifles so badly needed by recent events. Seventy eight casualties in the week you were gone…unless your treatment had addled your sense for math as well. How many more would have occurred over a further absence? At least now you could have some effect…you hoped. Kelwin…well, perhaps, or maybe Anya, whomever had taken it upon themselves to put in requests last Requisition day, would have been able to ask for resources. Or perhaps all the favors was spent on getting help from the Blue Knights? For what good that did. You hadn’t heard that the Blue Knights were incompetent, in spite of Anya’s angry accusations, but perhaps that battle was a particularly unlucky one.

Perhaps the Twaryians were simply that much more a threat now…Were you…were you trembling? Was this the normal feeling…or was it new? It was hard to tell…

>You needed to talk with somebody about something…(Who? About what?)
>You needed to check over the reports for something specific…(What?)
>Other?
Once this night is through with there’ll be a company buy phase for the start of Week 4.

>>3879336
Kommissar Zohl is attached to the 13th Mechanized Guards, not the 12th Armored Cavalry.

>>3879408
>>You needed to talk with somebody about something…(Who? About what?)
Go find our crew; if we're going into battle with them again best to be honest as possible with Richter's current state.

>>3879408
>Check the reports and/or question the witnesses about the following:
>Numbers and models of captured anti-tank weaponry
>Causes of such a complete defeat of the Blue Knights. Is it possible Twaryians have some new weapons or tactcs?
>Current disposition of Blue Knights' command
>Troop morale condition
>For the future: any local friendly forces capable of providing artillery support.
>Where could have the Twaryians been headed when they encountered 2nd Platoon?

>>3879408
>>You needed to talk with somebody about something…(Who? About what?)
Tell Anya upfront that were... unable to direct under fire as we used to.
Talk to Krause to get refamiliarized with tank operations.
Inform crew, we will be leaning on them more heavily for now, dont be offended if theyd want Anya to command them while we get our tank legs back.
Actually just keep talking to our crew and Anya so we can cure our speech impediment


>>Other?
Not now, but we should stand around rifle drills and stuff like that so we can reacclimate to battle sounds without breaking down.

Would it be possible to crosstrain additional tankers? We can be the aggressor tank to relearn the motions in safer conditions. Not ideal with the whole escalation thing.

>>3879408
By the way, we need to fortify the camp further. We need to be ready for Twaryians to employ heavy artillery, snipers and sabotage teams.

>>3879424
We should also tell Krause to be patient with Von Metzeler going forward. He will have forgotten most of their friendship.

>>3879423
>>3879424
>>3879437
All of these are good as well though likely not all can be done in one night.

Second opinion on our eye might be nice to get before we head out.

>>3879466
Actually yeah, this should be the priority.

>>3879466
>>3879467
Even now I'm still kinda confused what happened to it.

I'll be out today for an indeterminate time so things will remain open until I get back, but before that,

>>3879424
>Would it be possible to crosstrain additional tankers? We can be the aggressor tank to relearn the motions in safer conditions. Not ideal with the whole escalation thing.
It would be possible- though perhaps it'd be easier to look for personnel that already have such training, for want of time.

>>3879427
>By the way, we need to fortify the camp further. We need to be ready for Twaryians to employ heavy artillery, snipers and sabotage teams.
Technically, medium artillery and up is banned from being within effective gun range of the border zone by treaty terms. This does depend on how much of the treaty you expect the Twaryians to respect, though.

>>3879748
>Even now I'm still kinda confused what happened to it.
Put your finger on the outside corner of your eye. A little further over. Then have a bullet crash into that place. That's about the sum of it.

>>3880048
I expect Twaryians to respect exactly zero of the treaty. They will eventually mass forces and attack, and if Netillians aren't ready they will have a bad time.

Which is good for us, except we're in the way of the attack as well.

>>3880048
>Put your finger on the outside corner of your eye. A little further over. Then have a bullet crash into that place. That's about the sum of it.
Oh Yikes

I think it has been months since the last thread I read. Can someone give me a tl;dr version of how we got shot and why ?

>>3880235
Richter found out his fiancee was so bad at handjobs that he shot himself.

No.

TL;DR instead of going the long way around he chose (as he does) to run away from his escorts to take a significantly shorter route, but he got shot by bandits after his new ride got jacked.

>>3880722
Ok, wtf were the anons thinking when they chose this ? Were they on a lucky roll streak ?

>>3880858
Also Richter is half-lobotomized because people voted to break his conditioning and thus all his combat skills are now gone. And Von Metzeler lost all his memories from before joining the academy it seems.

>>3880868
>because people voted to break his conditioning
What conditioning ? Because of the shot ?

>>3880916
Think you should skim the past few thread anon just to catch up otherwise you're gonna be really lost about recent things

I am finally around.

>>3879420
Crew Explanation

>>3879423
A lotta other stuff

>>3879424
Likewise.

>>3879427
Dig deeper.

>>3879437
Amnesia troubles.

>>3879466
>>3879467
Hey check out this peeper show

Writing, this'll probably be multiple votes with all the interactions.

While the reports were still close at hand, you sought out a few more facts. The Raid summary had described a skirmish where 3rd platoon utilized captured anti-tank weaponry to fend off enemy armor- given the lack of unit anti-tank and the need for it, you were of course curious as to its condition, if it had been kept, ammunition for it…you found your answer with more inspection. Apparently most of the captured anti-tank rifles had been discarded during the retreat, as their ammunition had been completely expended during the battle and follow up action. There were also evidently handheld bombs used for anti-tank purposes, but their optimal use was unclear, for nobody could read Caelussian characters, let alone understand Twaryian. Anya wasn’t particularly knowledgeable on models and types of equipment, you knew, but she did know plenty about what was noted- that Twaryian anti-tank rifle munitions used an esoteric round anyways. It was only sensible to abandon weaponry that required resupply from enemy sources, once their ammunition was exhausted. Especially if they were weighing down troops during a retreat.

It was also still disconcerting how the Blue Knights platoon had been so thoroughly defeated. Was it a flaw in tactics? Or something besides arriving too late and without good maneuvering? Anya didn’t bother including the details of what they were equipped with- probably because she didn’t know until directly told (you had frequently been her reference for equipment- who could say if you could be so reliable now), and the same could be expected with enemy gear, though you did note a seemingly insignificant implication, that the Blue Knights had failed to inflict a single casualty on the enemy armor. Was it because their weaponry was insufficient against their armor? If the Twaryians were utilizing T-15s, then the Blue Knights’ hand-me-down armor may have not had the caliber of gun necessary to inflict damage from the front at combat range…did the Twaryians have tanks besides those you encountered being used by the Blood Suns and Death Heads? You…couldn’t remember…

…You could find out more about the Blue Knights, at least. The Netillian 12th Armored Cavalry Battalion, to use their official terms. Their commander, one Captain Magnus Edelschwert, had no hand in the unfortunate operation- but apparently was distressed enough by the losses that he had requested an investigation into your retinue’s “misconduct.” That…frustrated you. Thoughts of slights to make kept popping in as you found a brief description, in another report concerning the beginning of 12th’s cooperation with the 5th, due to the arrival of an infamous Twaryian officer called Andrej Gerovic. Magnus was the descendant of Ellowian monarchist knight families that had fled the country in another time with the rise of the republic- and his dossier was one that any Strossvalder could find some familiarity in. Perhaps that you could see some parallels with. Yet crumpled up and tossed in the garbage were the notices of investigation. It was difficult to get a firm idea of his character from what you had- you’d have to go find him or ask around. If you could.

A condition report from each of the Lieutenants (save the recovering Abetz, whom was filled in for by his second in command NCO) revealed, ironically, that the morale of the troops was holding in spite of increased violence and activity. They were displeased with the lack of anti-tank equipment as of recent, blaming the recent casualties on such, but active assignments such as the elimination of the insurgents and the raid, to them, had purpose. They weren’t eager to be ground up like meat- but the Twaryians were seen as a much clearer enemy, and for once, something the Ellowian 4th platoon and the others could come together on, especially with 4th platoon’s action in support of 2nd Platoon. That was at least reassuring- that, as well as the fact that recent days had made it so that the 1st company of the 5th battalion could no longer be called “green.”

You didn’t have much information on the adjacent units to yours as far as their additional capabilities, but given the apparent usefulness of your unit’s mortars, you were certainly curious in obtaining more support. You’d have to get somebody to investigate. Though perhaps, given that you were now the least combat capable commander present…it might end up being you.

Another mystery pressed you. The Battle on the Big Hill…well, Grabarz hill. What was its purpose? For your troops, of course, they had been attacked, and their reason to fight was obvious, but what were the Twaryians there for? Had they been intercepted? Were they going elsewhere and they found 2nd Platoon, or had they sought out your forces as a reprisal for the attack earlier the same day? With no prisoners, it was impossible to know.

A lot of questions, and not as many answers as you’d have liked. Though that was business as usual.

…All this analysis of fighting was simple when you didn’t have to take part in it, you thought. You were consumed with fresh terror at having to. Not only of harm, of defeat, but failure towards your people. What would happen if you came back as you were, bumbled into a battle, and ended up costing lives because of your new…incompetence? Cowardice? Everything compounded…and you rose to maybe do something about it. To at least let people know.

The first would have to be your crew. They had been your pillars this whole time- whenever you had been in a tank, they had been the ones who had carried you to victory. It was only proper that, if you would be unable to lead and command them, that they should know your condition.
Asking about where they were led you right back to the motor pool. The troops didn’t put much faith in the Twaryians continuing to be off target, so trenches has been dug and covered with whatever could be utilized. Pallets of cut wood were lying about, likely a tribute from local lumber operations. Perhaps material for constructing harder lodgings than tents. Warmer too, maybe.

“The prodigal noble returns!” Hans clapped and brought attention to you as you stumbled towards the bunch. They sat around one side of the X-50, your usual choice of mount, around a low burning pile of smoldering charcoal with a kettle atop it, steam steadily wisping from its spout. “When your tomboy dragged you off I thought I wouldn’t see you alive again.”

“Yaggeadea kommandahhrr,” Malachi pointed to the kettle.

“Judge above, Malachi,” Stein grumbled, “Tea is one syllable that everybody can understand.”

“Not jeas tae eys Yaegehrrr tae.” Jorgen objected, before regarding you with a nod from his craggly, weathered face.

“…What’s…what’s Yae…Yaegir tea?” What was a Yaegir anyways was a question you elected not to ask. Jorgen was one, right?

“It’s got no tea leaves in it, that’s for sure.” Stein said.

“…What…what is…in it?”

“Yorrvoysetranshe.” Malachi burbled. Your voice…was strange?

“Mint, blackberry, fir needle tips, but you do those last,” Hans listed off in response to your question. “Jorgen bitched that the only ones near are the funny black ones, but it’s not awful. Don’t let the tomboy have it, either. Jorgen don’t like that.”

“Esnaet for woemehn,” Jorgen snorted, “Mehn lohne. Gehrl drehnk an’ eht kells behbes. Mehn drehnk an’ eht hehlpsere,” he tapped on his chest, then smirked, “ehn ‘ere,” he gestured towards his crotch. “Eh hehr hehr hehr.”

“Virility is an important part of combat fitness, Boss,” Hans beckoned you closer. “And a hot drink’s always best in winter.”

“…” you came closer and sat across from the little fire pit. This wasn’t a mood you were prepared for…

“So what’d you do on your vacation, boss?” Hans asked as he toyed with a stray sprig of mint, dried, considering any wild plants would have died back by now to not return until spring. “That eyebrows girl took you away again and we didn’t hear nothin’ ‘til a guy dropped by saying you’d come with mercenaries. Next week. Why are you early, anyways? Not complaining, if the tomboy rode our asses for another week I’d be sitting on friggin’ bone.”

“Stop drowning the commander with questions, Hans, and I thought you’d ask about his eye…” Stein checked some utensils, “Did you bring your canteen cup, commander? You might want some of this, it makes the…you know, keep away.”

“Dohnmeenamma.” Malachi scolded.

“She’s different.” Stein sniffed in an implied objection to a judgment.

This was growing more and more difficult, as you struggled to even edge a word in. Yet, it was comforting, wasn’t it? To let other people talk around you, for you to not need to do else than sit and listen, perhaps exchange a few words as necessary? No…you swallowed hard, the longer you took, the less you’d want to say it. “…I…don’t know….if…I can…if I can fight…”

Silence, as your crew stared at you, the whistle of gentle wind and the whisper of steam and flame being all that was near.

“Euh?” Malachi made a confused noise. “Wassrahng?” Then a spew of syllables that you couldn’t make heads or tails of. You looked desperately to each crew member, until Stein translated.

“He’s asking if it’s because of…the thing going on with your head, that the Republic people were talking about.”

You nodded slowly. “…Ever since…I can’t…I’m just…” you hung your head, “…Everything is…scary…I don’t…I’ve forgotten….forgot how…how to shoot…everything…” You did your best to explain through pauses, stutters, but it was exhausting as all hell.

“Fluffy’s not gonna like that one bit.” Hans, ever trying to bring levity. Perhaps he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“Mohrscuse to gaet baetehn up, eh? Prehctes fohrrr Yaegirrr marraeyj, eh?” Jorgen taunted.

“…Well, yes, he has to re-learn, doesn’t he?” Stein said uncomfortably, “What are we going to do otherwise, just…not fight?”

“And get pushed around by the Boss’s pet? No thanks,” Hans’s tone changed.

Malachi sighed, leaned forward, and made a mock light slap twice on your cheek. “Eykohmmandarr. Lesshan. Lesshan?” you looked quizzically at him. “Fursdeh, kaeyhperass oudtroubbe. Ye? Denneckstem, an neckstem…” Malachi counted off on his fingers, then put that hand on your shoulder and shook you a bit, the light of the coals reflecting off his goggle lenses. “Wassemohrtehmhuh? Fengger.” He tapped his head, “Wedaeer.” He flicked your forehead. “Goonuff?”

“…Huh?” you blinked.

“Crooduhm, yooduhm, weersho, ye?”

…You weren’t…sure if you understood? Nobody was offering to say his words in plain New Nauk…

>You had no clue. But you appreciated it anyways. If you had the support of your crew, then maybe…you could do this.
>Insist that you can’t command them. Not yet, anyways. It’d be irresponsible of you. Anya seemed like she knew what she was doing. You’d promise to learn the ropes again as soon as possible.
>Maybe you weren’t in the right state of mind to be talking about this. Perhaps, you needed some sort of pick me up…(What?)
>Other?

>>3881708
>You had no clue. But you appreciated it anyways. If you had the support of your crew, then maybe…you could do this.
but
>Maybe you weren’t in the right state of mind to be talking about this. Perhaps, you needed some sort of pick me up…(What?)
Get a big ole sniff from Maddy's scarf.

>>3881708
>>Maybe you weren’t in the right state of mind to be talking about this. Perhaps, you needed some sort of pick me up…(What?)
Hit of the ol wakeleaf

>>3881708
>>Maybe you weren’t in the right state of mind to be talking about this. Perhaps, you needed some sort of pick me up…(What?)
Drink some tea and reminisce about cocaine.

>Other?
Promise to try and get better step by step, but unless they see real improvement soon it'd be better if others take over. Maybe Von Metzeler can when he returns.

>>3881708
>You had no clue. But you appreciated it anyways. If you had the support of your crew, then maybe…you could do this.
It seems that actually doing stuff is the only way to get better.

>>3881708
>>You had no clue. But you appreciated it anyways. If you had the support of your crew, then maybe…you could do this.
I wonder if there's some sort of natural or mystical remedy that can give us a similar effect to wakeleaf without the druggy part? Maybe Yva would know something.

>>3881708
>You had no clue. But you appreciated it anyways. If you had the support of your crew, then maybe…you could do this.
Need more chances to make Head of Battle DRs

>>3881725
>>3881745
>>3881762
>>3881772
Whatever you said I like it. Now let me take a fat hit of ginger.

>>3881726
Hold on let me get high

>>3881730
There is no tea but maybe you can pretend. And promise to get better.

Writing.

Whatever had come out of Malachi’s mouth, you couldn’t even begin to guess, but you could conclude that it was at least supportive…and the rest of your crew wasn’t demanding you stand down, so…if you had the support of your comrades, then maybe, despite your troubles…you could do this. You had to. From what marginal gains you had made, you had figured out that the only way to get better was to be exposed to conflict, no matter how much you feared it, and the risks of failure. There simply was no other alternative, for a permanent solution. In the short term…maybe you could find things that weren’t wakeleaf. Already you found yourself missing the shroud it laid upon you, but…

You buried your nose in Maddalyn’s scarf and inhaled deeply. Her scent was still within, though not as strong to the senses as it would have been smelling her herself, it was at least a reminder. She was nearer than she truly was, this way, and it comforted you. The night was not so dark, and you were not so far from home. The relief of an instant of delusion to loosen the nerves.

“Thank you,” you told Malachi, “Very…very well then. I’ll remain your…your commander…I’ll get better, I promise…but if…if you lose faith…”

“What are you talkin’ about, boss?” Hans interrupted you and shoved a tin cup of the tea in your hand, “Drink up, it’s cheaper than booze. You can tell us what happened with your pretty little face with the warm-up.”

…Well…you supposed it was the least you could do, to tell.

-----

You whittled away hours into the night as the coals dulled in brightness, telling of your time in Mittelsosalia, in Todesfelsen- the changes that had occurred. Sometimes your crew finished your thoughts or guessed what you’d say- perhaps considered rude by some, but your difficulties speaking made it so that you were actually thankful that they did that.

Except when Hans demanded to know if you slept with your fiancée. Or rather, “pounded the veal.”

“C’mon, you turned red when I talked about it, you did somethin’ naughty with her,” Hans prodded at you with a leering goblin grin, “She give you head? You give her head? Ah, there it is, you see how he looked away?”

“Hans, knock it off,” Stein said wearily.

“Sorry, Stein, but you’re the sole member of the crew now that isn’t a part of a girl has touched my cock club.”

“Piss off.” Stein shut his eyes and slouched against the tank, his knees to his chin.

You endured that long enough to get to your fleeing from the Iron Hogs escort, and your journey to and through the Funnel. Condolences were extended to your wounding- and further more minor wounding- but given that you weren’t in danger of death, Jorgen had the idea to come up with new names for you based on your least fortunate injury and its particular quirks. Walleye was better than Veal Pounder, you supposed.

Eventually you got to the present- your reading of reports, and you got your crew’s opinions on the latest events. Apparently, they’d actually been itching for action. Most of the fighting had been left to the infantry, and their paralysis from lack of fuel had been a sore point- both for their own idleness, and the condemnation they got from some more critical infantrymen for a perceived lack of contribution. This sympathy was, you were told, common to all the tank crews- though apparently your early return made Von Metzeler’s crew wistful- as well as Krause.

“I…should speak with….with him…” you said of Krause.

“Hold on a minute,” Hans raised a palm, “Fluffyhead was really fuckin’ pissed with you. You didn’t talk about why. Stein was tellin’ the whole thing from the gun scope view at the time and we didn’t know what the hell was up.” You told of the brief interaction- where she became agitated at Eakova’s description of events, and how your eye had been wounded in a misadventure- how you’d remained silent at her questioning, and had asked her if she had been hurt.

“You didn’t tell her any of the stuff you just told us?” Hans squinted at you, “Not how you got hurt, not about the stuff with your head, nothing? You just asked if she was hurt?”

“…Was she…is she…hurt…?” you asked.

“Yeah, she got-“ Stein began to blurt, but Malachi interrupted him sharply.

“Heaskurr. Stou ped.”

“…Fine,” Stein said, hugging his knees again and laying an arm lazily over a leg, “Since you’ve been gone, she’s been who’s been taking charge of the tank, but…she’s also been all over the place. And doing admin stuff. After she’s been hurt. Waking up early. She’s been looking bad. Not that she’d let it on.”
Come to think of it, in the reports, there hadn’t been a single engagement Anya hadn’t been present at. When had she been wounded? Was it before most of the battles?

“…So…when did…she…”

“Grrgh,” Malachi growled and got up, before lifting you to your feet, and spinning you around, “Yuusker! Stou ped!” He sent you sprawling with a firm boot to your arse, and somehow, you got the feeling that you had to go speak with Anya before anything else.

-----

Anya was evidently in her quarters tent- which you now stood in front of, contemplating.

“Who the fuck’s out there,” came a rough demand from within- as rough as a small woman could be. “If this is about being in the tent instead of a cold dirty hole then you can stick it up your ass. Worry about your fucking self.”

“Er…”

“…” the sound of Anya getting up, haphazardly stepping on the wires that rang little bells of warning as she opened the flap and stared at you with an unhappy bend in her lips, still in a dusty uniform. Her eyes were indeed dark and deep in their sockets, and their lids weighed heavy. “Fuck off.” She shut the flap again.

>Well, you tried. Time to move on.
>Enter the tent and make whatever you had to say unavoidable. (What?)
>Talk at the side of the tent and hope she listens. (About what?)
>Other?

>>3881829
>>Talk at the side of the tent and hope she listens. (About what?)
Guess something along the lines of "Hey, I heard from the guys what you've been up to when I was gone. How you holding up?" Plus how our combat capability is pretty fucked for the near future.

>>3881846
Supporting

>>3881846
Sure

>>3881829
>>3881846 This and also thank her for holding the fort. Tell her she did a great job.

>>3881829
>>3881846
This is about right.
Doubt we'll get much out of her, or even manage to finish our sentence but it's the thought that counts.

>>3881846
>>3881850
>>3881890
>>3881918
>>3881934
One fears to tread into the tent.

I'll be out for another indeterminate period of time for the afternoon, so for now I'll just kickstart the requisition to get it out of the way.

Reference image here >>3879408 for current company status.

>You may now spend RP in order to obtain unit upgrades and supplies.
Replenishment costs 1 RP per 10 soldiers, rounded up. Heavy replenishment will degrade unit experience, but only if they are above Trained level. A unit once obtaining Trained level has intrinsic experience that can only be lost on unit devastation.

>Infantry Platoon Upgrades:
New Model Machine Guns (3RP per platoon)- Replaces the W.dB 29 Neue-Machinengewehr equipment of the platoon with the newer and improved W.dB-Grunsen 30 Light Machine Gun- improving combat efficiency to a tune of +5 to general combat rolls.

Stormtrooper Spec Squad (6 RP per platoon)- Upgrades one squad in the platoon to be Stormtrooper spec- equipped with body armor and a greater proportion of submachineguns. This combination improves close quarters combat rolls by +10, and reduces damage taken in close quarters by 1.

Platoon Munitions Caster Team (3 RP per platoon)- Adds a munitions caster to the platoon command element, which reduces the defense bonus from fortifications to enemies the platoon fights, as well as improving its combat roll by +5.

Self-Loading Rifle Armament (8 RP per platoon)- Replaces the basic bolt action rifle armament with self-loading Grunsen Model 1930 Automatic rifles. Improves all combat rolls by +10.

>Basic Equipment (8 RP)- Makes a unit combat capable. Unlocks access to other upgrades.

Company Additions-

Anti-tank Section (7 RP)- Adds a section of Anti-tank rifleman and their supporting elements

Mortar Section (8 RP)- Adds a section of 3 80mm medium mortars and crews to the company’s support

Munitions Caster Section (7 RP)- Adds a section of 4 munitions casters spread across two teams to the company’s roster.

>Other Upgrades- Other things not listed may be requested, of course, but note that things that a light infantry company isn’t meant to have will likely cost quite a bit more.

Cavalry Scout Section (8 RP)- A section of mounted soldiers. Relatively archaic, but nevertheless useful.

Motorcycle Scout Section (10 RP)- A light motorized element commonly used in motorized units, but that has been spreading in prevalence with the new importance placed upon patrol of territory.

2-ton General Transport Trucks (12 RP)- Light Infantry are not meant to use motor transport, but Netilland has made trucks a priority production for its army. Perhaps you could obtain some, though at a premium…(Grants five trucks, able to transport a full platoon- as well as other things)

Extra Fuel (1 RP per additional unit- increase Fuel Weekly Allotment by 1 per 3 RP)- Fuel is in relatively short supply beyond what is allocated, though perhaps you can convince some people to part with more…

>>3882316
Couple of those things aren't meant to be greentext- they don't denote categories, they're their own things.

>>3882316
7RP for the Anti-Tank Section, the remaining 5 RP for replenishment. Goddammit things really have gone to shit since we've been away.

>>3882316
Also tanq will those wounded guys be returning to our unit in the future or what?

>>3882316
>5 RP replenishment
>3 RP increase weekly fuel
>3 RP munitions caster team in 1st platoon

>>3882378
Well, "wounded" covers a pretty broad variety of wounds, but you could have guessed that. I'd say for the sake of keeping things manageable you can expect to get half the "wounded" back in two weeks- a rough average for the less serious cases to crawl out of the hospital regardless of if they should. Otherwise the recovery time is such that they're more likely to be slotted into a reserve or the like instead of a vacancy being expected to be maintained for that long. You'll note that wounded and killed are equally marked as vacancies- as is how command considers them as equal losses in fighting capability since wounded are meant to be immediately extricated anyways.

>>3882459
Supporting this, we're gonna have more tanks to use now that we have the Iron Hogs so we'll need that extra fuel. Plus the Tear Gas seemed effective against the Twaryians.

Maybe now that there is a foreign foe to face the Netillians will be more amenable if we at some point arm the UGZ policemen as an emergency backup now that we seem to be a priority target for raiding.
And when the Ellowians return they may find some support already armed here.

>>3882459
Supporting

>>3882459
Supporting.

Pushing your way into Anya’s tent to ensure your message was heard would have been a death sentence. The best you could do was to speak from outside the tent, and hope she wouldn’t ignore you. Squatting near the side of the tent where you knew Anya’s cot was…something fell from your pocket. A handkerchief? Where did you get this? Maybe you’d remember some other time.

“…Hey…uh…” you tried out slowly, “…I…heard how you’ve…you’ve been…how there’s been…” You just kept tumbling over yourself. Best to just get to the point. “…You’ve been…doing great…but I uh…I’m not…” You pinched your brow. It was as if your brain was learning to talk again. “…Can you…just keep doing…what you’ve…you’ve been doing?...Because…” Judge Above, could you be more of a mess? “…I mean…thank you…for keeping things…er…together…are you…are you alright?...because…I’ll need…I can’t…I can’t fight…right now…not as…well…” There wasn’t any response, and that with how badly you were botching talking was immensely discouraging. “…Goodnight…”

You stood up and left, feeling like a fool. Maybe Krause would at least talk back to you.

-----

“Von Tracht returns from Sosaldt once again,” Krause waved from by his tank, a glowing cigarette in his lip, as his crew seemed to be sharing a pack. “I know you don’t smoke, but these cigarettes aren’t half bad for once. No offense, but I expected you and our other officer a week from now. Things change, or is he still coming?”

“…Of course…course he is…”

Krause wrinkled his nose at your manner of speech. “Something wrong? You sound like you’ve gotten wasted with your retinue again. Figures the first thing you’d do is head right back into her arms, eh, you dog?”

Another time that would have made you roll your eyes. Now you could only frown solemnly. “…You know…know why I left…right…” Krause nodded and cocked an eyebrow. “…It’s gone…and so are…a lot…a lot of things…”

Krause let his cigarette drop from his mouth, and it smothered itself in snow. “…I see. So is Rondo like you are, too?”

“…Sort of…” Then was the harder thing to say. You were never all that familiar with Krause, but you knew he and Von Metzeler had a long history- a history your second in command had wiped out of his memories, sacrificed to that same voice that had stripped you of so much. “…It’s…it’s hard to…explain…hard to talk…but…when he comes…comes back…he’ll have…forgotten a lot…”

Krause’s face set. “What do you mean, forgotten a lot?”

“…He said he…can’t remember anything…before the academy…”

“Bullshit.” Krause said immediately, “What’s that supposed to mean? You can’t just forget almost two decades. What the hell was even done to you two?”

“…I don’t know…how…” you admitted uneasily, “…it’s just…done…after it…I can’t fight…anymore…I’ve…I’ve forgotten how…”

Krause squinted at you, his face still contorted with confusion. “What? You can’t have forgotten how to fight. How does-“ He clipped himself short and shoved his cap over his eyes. “…How bad is it, then. When you say you can’t fight anymore.”

“…I want to learn again…It was nothing…nothing at all…but I’ve…taught myself a little…I can shoot a gun…at least…” Even if you were absolutely no good with one. “…Will you…Will you help me learn…again..?” The more you spoke, the more tired you became. Stringing sentences together was tiring. At this point, the strain in your mind was exhausting. You could only hope it was a sign things were getting better.

Krause kept his cap down as he leaned against the X-80 and kept quiet. “…Give me some time to think about this. Is Rondo also forgetting how to fight?”

You shook your head. “I…don’t think so…”

“Look, Richter, I just dunno if I can handle fixing you and Rondo at the same time. You’ve heard how things heated up recently, too. You’re not really in the best place to learn things again. If I were you, I’d be asking your tomboy for help, not me. It’s what you were already doing anyways. I’ll try, but,” he shrugged, “No promises. If both you and Von Metzeler are like this, that’s our senior leadership entirely just…poof.” He closed and opened his hand in illustration. “I think the place for you people is home, not here, but if you’re here…” He sighed. “…Go get some sleep. Sounds like you need it.”

…So you did. You muttered a short parting, then went…but not before you found and filled forms for requisition tomorrow. Paperwork was something that remained the same. You weren’t great at it, but at least you weren’t any worse, and there was some comfort to be taken in that.

-----

The next morning, your requisitioning was turned in- to be shortly fulfilled. If you were lucky, the lull in Twaryian raids would continue. If you were even luckier, they’d hold off for even longer, but that would be demanding so much that something worse would surely be offered up as sacrifice for that fortune. You mainly requested replenishment for the numerous casualties sustained, more fuel allotment for the week to increase armor operations- necessary since the new Iron Hogs would be sharing your fuel supply. In addition, you procured a new munitions caster team and its place in resupply for first platoon. All platoons, really, since the specialists could be moved around, but for the sake of paperwork they were with first platoon.

File: 5th1stcompanyweek4.jpg (558 KB, 1500x1500)

558 KB JPG

While the infantry may have cried out for anti-tank weaponry, you retained enough to know that anti-tank rifles were of middling to little effectiveness against the newer sorts of tanks, and especially the heavier varieties the Twaryians were fond of. By instead increasing fuel, you had more effective weapons against tanks more available, while also keeping the most mobile options open. Also, from how last week had gone, with fending off tanks with Tear Gas at the Big Hill and Anya claiming to have captured a tank by drenching its air intakes with the stuff, the Twaryians were ill prepared for chemical warfare that their armor could not defend them against. A munitions caster could do that, and more things besides.

…Speaking of that tank Anya brought in, you’d have to find out more about it, somehow. A lovely manual was inside, but it like all of the instruments was in Caelussian text, and thus illegible.

Quite a few things greeted you in the morning. Thankfully the only thing that was Twaryian (you thought) was Eakova bothering you about what she was supposed to do. The other matters were letters- one from Kommissar Zohl, expressing “concern” for recent battles, and offering his aid…should you think of a fair trade. The other was an unmarked letter, merely typed at the top with: See the Major as soon as possible. Do not make the Major wait long.

…Hm.

>What do you want to take care of now that it is the morning of January 8th?
-----
>You needed to get yourself in order as soon as possible. Bother Anya about training. Or somebody else? (Write in alternative)
>You didn’t like that ominous letter. Best to rip off the bandage early. Go and meet with the Major.
>Zohl was scum, but you were in no place to turn down the help of his elite mechanized unit if he offered it. Not if you wanted to handily defeat an enemy like the Twaryians. Arrange a meeting. (Not voting here will imply you wish to not respond)
>Other?

Of course, if you want to respond to the letters you got another way, you can write that in.

>>3884201
>>You didn’t like that ominous letter. Best to rip off the bandage early. Go and meet with the Major.

>>3884201
>>You didn’t like that ominous letter. Best to rip off the bandage early. Go and meet with the Major.

>>3884201
>>You didn’t like that ominous letter. Best to rip off the bandage early. Go and meet with the Major.

>>3884201
>What do you want to take care of now that it is the morning of January 8th?
Delegate responsibilities: Anya on commanding combat ops and Krause on handling any diplomacy inside and outside the Company.

Come up with a cover story: if the Netillians think Richter is incapable then they won't follow him. Feigning a rough sickness can buy some time at least.

>You needed to get yourself in order as soon as possible. Bother Anya about training. Or somebody else? (Write in alternative)
First let's test the limits of the mental degradation. Richter felt better buttoned up in a tank so let's have him sit in there with the crew and see if he remembers how to do his job. Also to see if it's the fear or the mental strain that's making him talk like an exceptional individual.
Then later on Anya can kick the crap out of him to see if he's lost all fighting ability.

>Major
I have no plan to deal with her and leave it up to other anons.

>>3884201
>>You didn’t like that ominous letter. Best to rip off the bandage early. Go and meet with the Major.

>>3884227
>>3884230
>>3884232
>>3884244
I'm coming, mother.

>>3884237
Delegation, fake a sickness for some time. Try to screw everything tight again.

Then sit in a tank before being beaten by Anya.

Writing, the Delegation remains but you'll have to wait for the physical therapy session, if you choose to do it.

Also I might be interrupted to go someplace, in which case I may do the inadvisable and phone update but I'll try to keep it briefer just to preempt that.

Zohl’s letter was delivered straight to the waste bin, the undeserving canister only suffering such because the latrine wasn’t quite close enough. He could go and rot to death from the groin up for all you cared for getting his help. The Major, though…if she knew you were back, there was no avoiding her. The only recourse was to go to her, and hope for the best.

Before that though, you made official administrative decisions, from the comfort of an office tent and with the certainty of pen and paper. Or rather, typewriter upon paper. While you were away or “ill” (both under the written umbrella of temporarily restricted from command duties), Sergeant Nowicki would be your voice and hand in combat operations, while Junior Lieutenant Krause would be the same for diplomatic matters- anything that the fire spitting blonde would cause offense in. She could behave herself, if motivated, but you didn’t want to take any risks.

That done…it was time to see the Major. Hopefully not for the last time. A courier was called, and you rode along in a noticeably heavier escort than was usual- given the increased Twaryian interference, it was only reassuring.

-----

Kamienisty was a familiar sight- on some fronts. The Twaryians’ encroachments and presumably the uprising the next sector over had resulted in a drastic change to outer reinforcements. Mere pickets and outposts were now heavily reinforced with concrete fortifications and entrenched anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns, the latter’s heavier guns slung low to be directed at armor. The garrison had likewise increased, and you noted the presence of one of the 5th Battalion’s other companies now in heavy presence around the area. As usual, you had no trouble as you were dropped off, and for lack of being given a place to meet, went to the usual place; the tavern where she always requested you go for a meeting. The oddly named but decently decorated Sparkling Troth.

The bartender looked up, recognized you and looked back down as you sat in front of him, the place of course empty in the morning save for a single employee sweeping dust. No fire was on, nor electric or gas heating, so the place was set in uncomfortable chill like outside- but the only person they were entertaining was you, so…

“What’ll it be,” the barkeep asked.

“…I-I’m not…having…having anything...”

The barkeep shook his head. “…You’re having something. C’mon. What’ll it be.”

>You’re not playing this silly game. Demand that the Major come out, she was the one who called you.
>Fine. You’ll indulge. Maybe you could think of something satisfactorily cultured this time. (What to order?)
>Get up and leave to try and find the hotel hideout instead, even if you didn’t recall exactly where it was. At least then you might catch the Major a bit more off guard. And in less.
>Other?

>>3884509
>>Fine. You’ll indulge. Maybe you could think of something satisfactorily cultured this time. (What to order?)
Order whatever Richter's favorite alcoholic drink is

>>3884509
>Fine. You’ll indulge. Maybe you could think of something satisfactorily cultured this time. (What to order?)
God, what have we tried already?
Water?
Milk?
Those are the only two I remember but i'm sure we've played this game more than twice.
hmmm, I read online that Lesbians tend to order vodka when they go out drinking.
If we haven't tried that we should go for it.

>>3884509
>Fine. You’ll indulge. Maybe you could think of something satisfactorily cultured this time. (What to order?)

An export from Strossvald. No traitor here, no sir.

>>3884552
This and maybe the vodka as well.

It's too bad our wound isn't fresher or we could squeeze out some blood and give her a glass of the one thing she would actually enjoy. Maybe we could think about how fucked we're going to be when we meet her and work up some tears to serve to her?

I hath returned.

>>3884520
Richter's favorite alcoholic drink is up to you all, really. Depending on what you think would fit. Plenty is unestablished about him really. His exact age, his birthday, favorite food...I think I've actually stated his favorite color though.

>>3884537
Vodka!

>>3884552
Import beer!

>>3884735
Both!

Why not both, indeed.

>>3884785
Bodily fluids!

Writing.

…Well. It was time to fail this game again, you sagged with resignation, slumping onto a bar stool. “…Do you have…er…the beer from Messingplatz?”

“Strossvald brew. PlatzerGold? Are you sure?”

“…Two things…that and…wodka…”

The barkeep shrugged, and filled a mug with deep marigold-orange PlatzerGold, and a squat rocks tumbler with clear-cloudy stuff.

“…Is that…wodka..?” you pointed.

“It’s unfiltered.” The barkeep said, “Better that way anyways. Didn’t you try givin’ her water last time? Least she won’t think it’s that right away.”

“…Huh…” You slouched on the counter. “…Guess so…”

The wait was longer than you thought it would be- but in all fairness every heartbeat felt like a minute as you wondered what you were going to do. What you were going to say. The Major could have controlled you- it was hard to think back and truly know when, but doubtless, she would figure out what had happened incredibly quickly. Would you be subdued? Reconditioned? Killed? Surely not killed, you told yourself in haste, if she wanted you dead, she could have had you assassinated any number of ways, yet she had deemed that you come see her. Unless that was a trick?

“…Damn it all…” you muttered to yourself. There wasn’t even any music playing. Just the forlorn wind whistling outside the place and the quiet fizz of the beer’s head slowly dissipating.

Clack. Clack. Clack. You knew the sound of those heels, as they strode up behind you. Gaze kept forward, you didn’t look as you heard the frosted mug lifted up…and cautiously sipped at.

“It would have been so predictable,” the Major’s cold voice, icy as the winter, trilled out perfectly levelly, “For you to get beer again. Yet this is Platzergold. A modicum of thought is here. A hint of complexity. Or perhaps I am merely projecting a desire for home onto you.” You heard her actually drink more of it. “Two drinks should be cheating. However…did you order this specifically?” she turned your head with a hand atop your crown, and put your eyes…well…eye on the wodka.

“…” You didn’t answer. You half expected the barkeeper to answer, but he was gone…the door was now shut, as well.

“I thought not. How boring.” The stool next to you scooted back, and there was a shuffle of cloth as the Major sat down. You looked over all the way, and the tall woman was inspecting the glass as though it were a gem. “Did you know, Lieutenant, that vodka is usually filtered? I would have expected so, but you never seemed a heavy drinker. Some companies boast that they filter their products many times…unnecessarily, but it sounds so much more pure when it is said to have been filtered twelve times. Yet there is a point quickly reached where no matter how many more times it is filtered, it will look just as clear as before. Unfiltered vodka is purer than that. It beguiles with what it ever had…enchanting, in a way.” She sipped at it, and set the glass down next to you. “Drink. You will not stutter and pause so much. I have little patience with you as is, and I do not need it tested by fresher mental handicaps.”

“…I don’t…know…know what you…what you mean…” you said weakly.

“Esfersilli,” the Major said quickly, and with odd intonation. “…Yes, you do. We both knew from the start, of course, but you needed proof, I suppose. Shall we stop wasting one another’s time? Drink.” She pointed. “I would not drink something poisoned.”

No choice but to be obedient. You straightened your posture…and drank the whole tumbler in one go. It was sharp, but smooth. Not bad, to tell the truth.

“Good boy.” The Major crossed her arms and put one leg over the other. “So. How does it feel to be a human again, Richter Von Tracht? You don’t need answer yet. Let the liquor soothe your nerves some.” She took off her sunglasses to reveal the deep green- yet still penetrating, eyes beneath. “I was there, you see. At your transformation. So this is rather like watching a Silverscale Butterfly emerge from its chrysalis after a season. Or perhaps, like a dog standing on two legs…before it returns to put its nose in the dirt. We shall see in time. I’m sure you have many questions…which I might deign to answer.” The Major looked down at you, “Frankly, I’m curious to hear what you’ll ask…”

>How does it feel to be human again? Whatever that means…
>Ask your questions, if you have them.
>Other?

>>3884980
>Ask your questions, if you have them.
You wanted to see me. Do I have new orders?
If not, then I'll be going.

((Just like Maddy said, in and out, gotta keep being useful.))

>>3885003
Supporting. Maybe ask how long more are we going to sound like someone with special needs.

>>3884201
Dammit, did I miscount the casualties? No point in sitting on 2 RP.

>>3884976
We really should stop playing her drink mindgames. She's just trying to keep us feeling like we're not good enough for her, like we need to earn her approval, to control us.

No drink will ever be good enough, and to think otherwise is a delusion. Finding a fault with us is her whole point. It's textbook abusive behavior.

>she turned your head with a hand atop your crown
Yep, textbook.

>>3884980
Supporting >>3885003

>>3884980
>How does it feel to be human again? Whatever that means…

>>3884980
>How does it feel to be human again? Whatever that means…
I’m a bit concerned that what the Archduchy could do with a dog they have less use for a man.

>>3884980
>>Ask your questions, if you have them.
So...are you just going to have us killed now as a matter of course, or can we still be of enough use to you to avoid being disposed of? Or are we lucky enough that you'll agree to just end our business relationship amicably?

>>3884980
>How does it feel to be human again? Whatever that means…
It sucks and I hate it.
I'll get over it eventually.

>>3885028
Also supporting spending the remaining 2RP on replenishment if possible. Additionally are we able to transfer some of the Ellowians from 5th Platoon over to 4th? With that we should be only be a few guys under-strength.

Sleeping too much isn't healthy.

>>3885003
>>3885009
>>3885028
Tell me what to do mom. Also I talk funny.

>>3885417
Do you expect me to talk?

>>3885044
Metal Gear?

>>3885229
Somehow a dog may be of more use than a man- just a bad feeling.

>>3885550
Boy do I hate not being a dog. But it's okay.

Writing.

>>3885028
>>3885589
While I'd say having RP in the bank allows you to perhaps use it in other ways in the future, sure, you can use it for further replenishment if you want. I'll mark it down in an updated company roster.

While "5th Platoon"'s people can be transferred over, it probably isn't a decision to be made lightly. It is, after all, not what these people volunteered to do, and would definitely affect your reputation with the UGZ if an allotment seemingly made out of generosity and compassion (as far as they see it) turns out to be a deal to use them as spare meat. Your high command doesn't care much about this- on paper, they are at your disposal, after all, but it would be a political decision concerning the UGZ-09.

>>3885708
Alright ignore that idea then.

Finished reading thread 52 and I have to say, anons are using their pee pees for head too much

“…how does it…feel to…to be human…again?” You repeated to the Major.”

A flash of annoyance. “Yes. That was my question for you, Lieutenant. Don’t overthink it, but don’t rush to answer, either. We have plenty of time.”

You sat for a few minutes, and thought not much about that, but of what you were going to ask. The alcohol began to do its work, slowly, and steadily. “Do I…have to answer that…first?” you hoped to spend a little less time in silence.

“No.”

“…Am I…going to be…killed?...”

The Major was amused by this question. “Why in the world would I want you to be killed, Lieutenant? Your knowledge of a “secret” that had already been disseminated years ago? Because you were broken free of an influence, yet not one strong enough to prevent you from coming back anyways? Surely the Intelligence Office would have better uses for you alive, regardless. No, you would have no target painted upon your back unless you were fool enough to try and spread it all about with the loudest voice you could.”

“…Why?...”

“Believe it or not, Lieutenant,” the Major patted you on your head, “You are still useful to the Archduchy, and the Intelligence Office, even without the Trance, or whatever you threw away to rid yourself of it. Your bloodline, your accomplishments, your marriage, all useful in their own ways. Even without such, you would just be sent home. That the Trance exists is hardly a secret to spill any blood in keeping. Years ago, perhaps not, but a small secret- the man who spilled the secret to plenty of ears and confirmed the suspicions of other listeners, is now the man who commands the Archduchy’s shadows.”

“…Why?”

“Beyond that is properly secrets, of course.” The Major stopped stroking your head in that noticeably condescending way, “Why the Trance exists at all, why it was loosed, what we expect further…though I will say, your experiment is yet unfinished.”

Why would she tell you that? Was she trying to provoke you into asking more questions? The ones she mentioned did swirl about in your head for a bit. To feel them properly moving about in your brain was a strangely liberating feeling- once upon a time, these thoughts would prompt headaches. After a few more minutes, though…you considered your fiancée’s advice. Remain useful. Don’t become a problem. The Intelligence Office didn’t seem to have any plans to let you go- so best to keep serving their interests until…whenever. When they’d leave you alone. Until your experiment was finished.

“…You wanted to see me.” Alcohol actually was helping. “…Do I have any new orders..?...And when will I stop…having these speaking troubles..?”

“The second, then the first.” The Major replied, putting her sunglasses back on. “Your speaking troubles are from you having to acclimate to a world without the Trance shielding you. They will depart as you adapt. If you wish to know what would be most amenable to our operations, though…” The Major’s fingers curled around the beer mug’s handle. “The Twaryians are becoming overconfident. They test Netilland’s investment and preparedness. This would be in our favor, but we do not want them to be of such a disposition quite yet. The upstart Captain Andrej Gerovic is the primary drive in destabilizing this region. Kill him, or destroy his forces. Infiltration of Twaryi is still dissatisfactory, but after…say, one week, there should at least be resources enough at least give an idea of the Captain’s position. Otherwise, as before, you may behave as you like. As was before.”

“…Yes m’am.” You replied sternly.

The Major drank the rest of the beer in one tremendous pull. “...Of course, I did call upon you to inspect you in person. Orders could simply be given through other channels. So I return to my initial question. How does it feel to be human again?”

“…I admit that I am concerned…that even though you spoke of a dog standing on two legs…whether that would be of more value than a man…” you said steadily, the effect of alcohol having a merciful positive effect on talking.

The Major tilted her nose up dismissively. “Perhaps, for the less capable. I would hope that your opinion of me is somewhat higher than that. If I wished to forever have a slobbering hound I would not have allowed you to continually visit with the daughter of a troublemaker. Enough of what you expect others to expect of you, however. What do you think of it?”

Right back to that. She was rather insistent on this. “…It sucks. I hate it.” You summed up simply. “…I’ll learn to handle it, though…eventually…”

“You could have it back, you know,” the Major mused to herself, “A few have requested it.” You could…have it back? “Only the lowest of worms would request such, though. Yes?”

“…Indeed…”

“Then that concludes what I wanted of you. Continue your duties as you are able.” The Major stood once more. “Unless your curiosity was piqued by anything?”

…It was like she wanted you to ask more. Would that be a good idea, though, no matter the curiosity?

>Ask something? (What?)
>You knew better than to bite at bait such as that, tempting as it was. No, you were fine. (Will count as a vote against anything “questionable”)
>Other?

>>3885795
>Ask something? (What?)
You said you were at my "transformation". Did Signy told you about her plan of "freeing" me or you discovered by other methods ?

>>3885795
>Ask something? (What?)
Ask her if it possible people outside the Archduchy are tranced. Also ask her what ways there are to tell if someone is tranced, we kinda were told, but I want to hear it from the source.

>>3885795
>You knew better than to bite at bait such as that, tempting as it was. No, you were fine. (Will count as a vote against anything “questionable”)
No need to sound too inquisitive. Just because she says she wouldn't have us shot behind a chemical shed doesn't mean I believe her.

>>3885795
>Why mountain language?

>>3885828
She meant the original transformation, in the Academy. An interlude showed she had no idea where we were when we were with Signy.

>>3885795
>You knew better than to bite at bait such as that, tempting as it was. No, you were fine. (Will count as a vote against anything “questionable”)
>Other?
I feel like...we should thank her.
For wrangling us this far. She seems heavily invested in our continued success even if it's in no way personal and seems to have done a pretty good job so far, so a acknowledgement of her efforts seems appropriate.

>>3886270
I do not see it that way. The Major has been using Richter as a tool maybe since the very beginning of the trance, if not that far back, then probably at least since Maddy’s kidnapping. In our physical interactions with her she has demonstrated to have a low opinion of Richter, whether because if his conditioning or his actions, regardless of his apparent great success as a tool in the past. Even now, she still takes a domineering stance in our social interactions to try to maintain some of the control she used to hold over the tranced Richter. I would not be thankful for this, I would be a little mad. Richter is his own man again, he came back to this hellhole of his own will, but the Major just sees an interesting development in her experiment.

>>3886270
>>3886289
We cannot trust her, this may all just be manipulation to keep him loyal. I can believe she even may have wanted Richter to break the mind control but I can't believe at all that she has his best interests at heart. Just because she says she won't kill him is nothing but empty words without some kind of improvement.

>>3885795
>>You knew better than to bite at bait such as that, tempting as it was. No, you were fine. (Will count as a vote against anything “questionable”)
Let's just go, we have plenty of stuff to relearn and do.

>>3886270
What efforts, anon? All we've seen from her was arrogance, disdain, denigration and mindgames.

>>3886289
>In our physical interactions with her she has demonstrated to have a low opinion of Richter, whether because if his conditioning or his actions, regardless of his apparent great success as a tool in the past

I believe she was just negging Richter.

>>3886227
Ok, then changing to >You knew better than to bite at bait such as that, tempting as it was. No, you were fine. (Will count as a vote against anything “questionable”)

I am ready for action. Sort of.

>>3885904
>>3886227
Are there others? How can you tell? Why in mountain gobbledygook?

>>3886166
>>3886270
>>3886307
>>3886332
Bite your tongue and keep your nose where it ought to be.

Writing.

You did have curiosities that you would have inquired after- but your tongue was held still, with a shake of your head. “No, m’am.”

“Hm. Really, now.” The Major gave you a last glare, “So be it. Return to your duties. And do succeed in them, or at least look good. One of my peers has had egg on his face for some time now since your Von Neubaum failed in Halmeggia, and whether the Judge is deeming that fate treat you kindly for the tragedy of your family, or if you are merely lucky, it has reflected quite nicely on me.” She pinched your cheek with a gloved hand, in a firm tugging hold. “Some assurance to wipe away your doubts about you being removed. Now be a good boy and make the Archduchy proud.”

She let go of your face and wheeled about, her long night-black hair blowing behind her as she swiftly left the tavern.

-----

When you returned to the Company Headquarters camp, a suggestion to further fortify the place had not been taken lightly- further dugouts had been made, with the aid of one of the platoons, who appeared to be combining guard duty with manual labor as the other platoons were (you were informed) out on patrol. Anya had gone out with them- something you lamented in your mind. You had been thinking that maybe…well, nothing for it now. The reinforcements you’d requested (including some more you’d requested at the last moment) had come in, and some fresh faces were present, as well as a few you actually recognized from early days finally returning. Wounded were usually cycled into reserves if they were replaced in their unit before they recovered, if they were not fully withdrawn. However, these people would be seeing much changed units from what they had left behind.

Part of you thought to go and pick up a mattock or shovel to help dig too- after all, your fear and anxiety were primarily concerning battle, given time to analyze it. Confrontation in general, perhaps…and the ground was not something that could hit back. Yet, you might have more important things to do than fling your strength at the ground. You’d left combat command in Anya’s hands and diplomacy in Krause’s, but that didn’t limit your own freedom, but merely gave precedent in your “absence.”

Though…your excuse would have to be illness. Would the troops believe it if you suddenly were struck ill right when battle occurred? Maybe you had to do something to begin to wean yourself further from the trance. Doing nothing was unacceptable.

Maybe you could plan an operation? The Major might have instructed you to defeat the Twaryians, either through elimination of the infamous Captain Gerovic or the neutralization of his forces, but she didn’t give you particular instructions to follow, merely a goal. You could at least start on such, could you not?

>You needed more time for the situation to reveal itself. Perhaps digging would be good for you after all…
>Begin brainstorming for an attack into Twaryian territory. The sooner Gerovic was handled, the better. (Will require some input as to where to at least start)
>You had other problems to handle…smoothing things over with the Blue Knights commander, for example. You wouldn’t be able to accomplish your mission without help, after all.
>Get a courier to deliver you to a patrolling platoon. Captain Kelwin was out with Second Platoon scouting for insurgents to the north and east, while Anya was with Fourth Platoon patrolling south. (Choose who to go to)
>You had to check with other allies. You knew where the Ashes were- perhaps from there you could meet up with the NLF again?
>Other?

File: 5th1stcompanyweek4_2.jpg (557 KB, 1500x1500)

557 KB JPG

Ah, right, and updated Company roster to reflect additional reinforcement. To specify for the future, the bonus the company's platoons get from "large squads" (+5) to reflect their general numerical superiority applies so long as their numbers are above 11 in most of their squads.

>>3886989
>>Begin brainstorming for an attack into Twaryian territory. The sooner Gerovic was handled, the better. (Will require some input as to where to at least start)
I would say interacting with other parties should wait until Richter can actually hold a decent conversation. For now I guess we can try to re-learn our military knowledge? Go dig up what we know about how big his force his, number and type of tanks, where their base is etc. Of all the things lost it's probably the easiest to pick up again given enough studying.

>>3887007
Supporting. Also we still need to find out how the Twaryians managed to smash the Blue Knights in that raid.

>>3886989
>Begin brainstorming for an attack into Twaryian territory. The sooner Gerovic was handled, the better. (Will require some input as to where to at least start)
Let’s begin the plan

>>3886989
>Other
I think we need to find a real doctor and have our eye looked at properly. We might also want to pick up Anya and make sure whatever wound she has was looked at properly, or bring her to the doctor with us if not. I think we might also need to order Anya to take some R&R, since it sounds like she's been working herself ragged and her nerves seem to be pretty frayed. At least a day, probably; that would also give us time to properly discuss what happened to us and what happened on her end while we were away, under less stressful circumstances.

As for planning an attack into Twaryian territory I think it might make sense to "suggest" the plan to Kelwin and put him in charge of forming a plan of action, subject to our revisions of course. Considering our diminished state it would be good to outsource as much work as possible, and it will be useful to get him functioning as an actual company commander like he's supposed to be. Especially if we need to lay blame on him for any failures instead of taking it on ourselves or Anya.

>>3887109
These are good ideas. Going to a proper doctor source with Anya and get a chance to explain ourselves. She might resist but if a retainer is hurt they might be taken off the line permanently instead if wounded and untreated.

>>3886989
>Other?
Planning is good but recuperating is more important currently. Grab the crew and practice tank combat. We need to see what was lost.

As for Gerovic I think luring him into an ambush would be best, although the Twaryians probably have really good intelligence if they almost kidnapped Richter earlier so we need a way to mitigate that.
Maybe striking into Twaryian lands and then having them chase a "routed" or unaware returning Netillian strike team.
If we want the big cheese we will have to make our territory a target for him to show up to.

>>3887167
I support getting the crew in the tank running through the basics. Communicating with the driver and gunner in combat is an issue we need to head off soon if we plan on having the crew all work together in our next combat.

>>3886989
>Check our eye first of all.
If we don't hurry with it tanq will make the injury permanent. You know it, anons.

>>3887431
That wouldn't exactly be fair- it was requested the other night, really, but I forgot it was very late.

Let's see if I can get another update out tonight.
Tech rehearsals starting only a week before opening night is messy as hell but it should be alright.

>>3887007
>>3887023
>>3887026
Gather information- formulate planning.

>>3887109
>>3887167
>>3887312
Go to the doctor for your eye- and whatever Anya has. Make it a date.
Do some drills with crew.
Make Captain Babyface Thot Magnet do his job.

>>3887431
Don't forget the eye!

Writing.

>>3887521
>spoiler
That's pretty typical where I work, but our theatre has pretty limited technical options

The Major’s order weighed heavy on the mind, but…you didn’t really know how to approach it. There was too little information- perhaps information you once had stored in your head, but now, it had been flung away- but there was a surefire way to get it back. Delegating responsibility gave you idle time- time to read, train, learn again, and return to duties. Return to adequacy.

There were resources. Reports on the Twaryians you could request, informative treatises given some more time- even information on the Twarians themselves could help you. When that wasn’t being done, you could mind after yourself. The steel encasement of being within a tank had been familiar and reassuring- when had a tank’s armor failed to preserve your life, after all? You’d only been shot when forsaking it. You could get inside with your crew, and re-learn what you were…perhaps finally grasp the full extent of what had been lost.

Before even that, there was the matter of the dull pain in the side of your head, that lay under now dusty gauze. A proper doctor had to look at that now, since you were back to civilization. Come to think of it, Anya should come with you to the doctor, too. It was possible she’d already been treated, but you thought her plenty stubborn enough to ignore her wounds to stay in the field. She also seemed tired, strung out, she might have had fire in her eyes but you couldn’t help but feel that she was running out of fuel, from how deeply those eyes sank, and the shadows under them, her quickness to anger and curtness that, while hardly unusual for the abrasive tomboy, was extending to concern over her safety. Well, you had concern over her safety. She was your…retinue. You had responsibility for her, and damn if you wouldn’t see to such. The less time either of your wounds were allowed to fester, the better.

So that was the first order of business. You requested that whatever information that could be gained on Twaryi and its peoples be gathered for your perusal, informed your crew of your plans…both cases on paper, rather than going through the arduous process of speaking it out (the alcohol beginning to fade), before requesting a courier to 4th Platoon on patrol. Anya was going whether she wanted to or not, even though that was far easier to say than to ensure.

-----

“Piss off.”

Anya didn’t look any healthier, though she had loaded herself down as heavy as usual with both the submachinegun she’d found off insurgents at some point (you’d never seen her so much as carry a rifle) as well as a munitions caster and its shell bandolier and bag. It seemed like she was still…not happy with you.

“…We need…to visit the…the doctor…”

“We?” Anya snapped back at you, “We aren’t going anywhere until this patrol’s done. Unless you’re here to join us, you can screw right off. Still talking like a retard even.”

You flashed a glance to Lieutenant Wielzci, who was watching with an amused smirk. Maybe because it looked ridiculous to be spoken to in such a way by a woman who you stood head and shoulders above.

“…You’re hurt…” you pointed out plainly, gesturing to her right arm.

“I’ve had worse. I wouldn’t be but here if I couldn’t handle it. Butt out or help, don’t waste our time.”

You swallowed and considered what to say. “…You’re tired…exhausted…you can’t just…”

“Yes I can.”

There were all sorts of reasons as to why she should take at least one day off, but your reduced ability to articulate combined with her rock-headedness made things look hopeless. Yet you couldn’t just give up, could you? “…I want...I want to…explain things…”

“You couldn’t do that earlier?” Anya challenged, getting up close with her arms bent at her sides and her fists clenched, “Piss off I said.”

“Judge above,” you heard Lieutenant Wielczi finally cough, “Nowicki, get your ass out of here. Go make out with your boyfriend somewhere else, I’m sure the Twaryians can hear you slobbering all over each other from Syvatogrod.”

“You don’t order me around,” Anya snapped her head back to glare at the officer.

“He does, though.” Wielczi pointed at you, “And if you don’t listen to him, why do I have to listen to you?”

“Geh.” Anya grit her teeth and ground them together, before returning her glare steadily to you. “…Fuck all of you.” Stubborn, but it seemed she could recognize defeat at least. Though not without a rough shove with her left arm before she passed off the munitions caster and its ammunition to another bearer. “Come on. Though we’re ditching these dumbasses first thing.” She pointed to the escorts that had come with you.

“…That’s…that’s dangerous…”

“I don’t give a shit.” Anya declared as she tromped towards the first car, “Hurry up and get in. The faster this bullshit is over with the better.”

-----

Even after the escorts were “ditched,” Anya was silent as she drove you both to the overcrowded hospital you’d gone to just a week earlier for completely different reasons. You’d expected her to say the first words, but all she’d said was how your scarf made you “look like a fruit.” The way she kept irritably glancing over made you slowly more certain that, yes, you were supposed to be talking right now. Yet…

“For fuck’s sake,” Anya said bitterly, “Look, I don’t hide anything from you, right? I just want to be treated the same. When I asked you what happened and you just pretended I didn’t even ask or whatever, you have no idea how mad that made me. You got shot in the head. Am I supposed to just brush that one off, you shit head?” She scowled darkly and tightened her grip on the wheel. “Then there was that shit with you muttering incoherent shit outside my tent like a drunk asshole. Was that important, or what? You’re pissing me off, and not in a good way. I don’t like being pissed off.”

“…What…” you flinched as Anya glared back. It wasn’t because she was frightening, but…well… “…What do you…want me to…where should I start?”

“I shouldn’t have to fucking tell you.”

…Great.

>Demand that Anya tell you what happened to her first. That’s much more of concern than what’s wrong with you.
>The most pressing problem is the changes to your mind, not your body. You should explain that first and foremost, even if that doesn’t seem to be what she’s angry about…
>Explain why you left the Iron Hogs escort and struck out on your own- a decision that led to what happened to your eye. (Write In Explanation)
>Other?

>>3888102
>The most pressing problem is the changes to your mind, not your body. You should explain that first and foremost, even if that doesn’t seem to be what she’s angry about…
This is required to understand
>Explain why you left the Iron Hogs escort and struck out on your own- a decision that led to what happened to your eye. (We needed to get back here as fast as possible, and recuperate our combat... hell, life-effectiveness as fast as possible. Treking out into the funnel was one way to achieve both of those ends.)

>>3888102
>>The most pressing problem is the changes to your mind, not your body. You should explain that first and foremost, even if that doesn’t seem to be what she’s angry about…
Once we explain that we actually have a medically (psychotherapeutically?) induced reason for acting like such an autist for once, maybe she'll be a little more patient with us. Then we can explain all the shit that's wrong with us and why we wandered off on our own and got shot rather than sitting in the back of a truck and continuing to fall into a psychological pit of helplessness and existential dread that we might not have been able to climb back out of.

Also it seems like we should start carrying around a flask of some high proof spirit for occasions when we need to make ourself coherent in a hurry.

>>3888120
supporting, we gotta tell our story first before we demand hers

>>3888120
>>3888169
Agree, it will just take longer if she keeps interrupting our retardspeak

>>3888120
The way I see it this way would pretty much just entail explaining what we went through starting from the post operation malaise. That sounds good to me but can we please specify before we go rambling that our eye is fine, in our head, not infected, but to understand why it's like that we have to start from the beginning.

>>3888102
>>3888120
This works, also ask her to park first.
She's pissed off and Richter is likely to piss her off even more before this is through.
Adding: He also had to return sooner because other threats (than the ones so far encountered in Ellowie) might have made a move against Richter or against her if he didn't return to his post. Being vague about this is fine.

And so last rehearsal before opening night ends. The alcohol license for the theater's bar expired so no champagne. Bugger.

>>3888120
>>3888169
>>3888213
One then the other, full explanation.
>>3888161
Consider alcoholism.

>>3888431
>>3888435
Specifications. Get off the road.

Writing.

“…Can we…we pull over…first?” You asked.

Anya leered at you and swerved off the road, tires screeching and throwing you forward. Thank goodness this road was one of the few that was plowed, sunlight enough to banish the frost. “Talk.”

“…Well I…” you swallowed hard, “…I…” Breathe, Richter. Get a good whiff of that scarf, at least. Not quite desperate enough to dig out the wakeleaf, yet. “…It’ll take a while to…explain…because its not…it’s not just the…one thing…”

“…Alright, first thing’s first,” Anya said irritably, “Why the hell are you talking like that? I thought they were supposed to fix you head, not make you retarded. More retarded.”

“…It’s…harder…”

“Why?”

“…Because…I just feel afraid…”

“Of what?”

You looked around, at the mist, the shadows, the sky above and the ground below, but all of them felt like they hid watching eyes- a feeling that only grew worse given thought. “…Everything…”

You expected a shot at you, an insult or a slight- mockery, but it didn’t come. Anya’s stern expression loosened some, and she contemplated what you said. “When I was little,” she said after a moment, and a frown of sudden uncertainty, “I was afraid of the dark. I had to sleep alone for a lot of my youngest days, but eventually, I slept in the same bed as my sister. When I could hug her…it made me feel less afraid.”

“…Are you saying…”

“Yeah. Hug me.” Anya said reluctantly, “Not too tight or I’ll punch you. You go over the line and I’ll whack you in your other eye.” She edged over. “…Don’t just stare at me, if we don’t do something about that we’ll be here for fucking ever.”

You slowly took an arm around Anya’s back, weaved it around her…

“Ow!” Anya yelped as your grip around her pressed her arm against her body.

“…Sorry…”

“I got shot there, you dipshit,” she hissed, “No, don’t take your arm off, just do it right!”

You put your arm under hers instead and pulled her by her middle against you, while wrapping your other arm around her shoulder and back to lightly hold Anya against you. It was…better…you had to admit. Was her hair always so soft? She was incredible warm, too, even through her uniform, as though there was a furnace within her. No wonder she never seemed to notice the chill.

Surely just a little tighter wouldn’t hurt…a little more, as her chest touched you…

“You’re pushin’ it.” She said with rough edge.

“Sorry.”

“Better. Now talk.”

…You weren’t sure about the particulars of how squeezing Anya helped drive away the fear, but you at least had no complaints about it. “…When they removed my conditioning…I heard a voice. It asked me…what I was…and when I told it, it said I wasn’t…when I woke up…I’d forgotten half of the things I learned about…things…and I forgot how to fight…at all…I can hardly shoot a gun, I could barely…pull a trigger when I woke…I don’t think I can…remember the things we did…I mean, I can remember them…but I can’t do them…” You couldn’t help but try and hold her tighter. It wasn’t even out of affection, but the closer Anya was the more the freezing fear felt repelled by her warmth. “…And whenever I wasn’t…near my fiancée, or high on a drug…I feel this terror that makes me feel…like I can’t do anything but hide…I can’t fight, I can’t talk…it’s like my mind is trying to talk…and my body doesn’t listen…parts of my mind don’t even listen…I can’t explain it, it’s just…how it is…” Anya said nothing, and an odd request tumbled from you. “…Can I…keep you closer..?”

“…Fine.” Anya relented. “Mmf,” she coughed, and twitched as you knocked her arm by accident. “Serves me goddamn right.” it sounded like she mumbled under her breath. “High on a drug?”

“…Wakeleaf.” You admitted, “Alcohol helps, too…”

“Don’t take any more of that shit, no matter how much it helps or whatever,” Anya scolded, muffled by your body, “If it gets its claws in your head you’ll never want to stop taking it.”

“I’ll try…”

“I see you with it and I’ll beat you so bad you’ll have to stick the next hit up your ass.” Anya warned.

There was no doubt in your mind she’d do it too. “…As for why I did what I did…that ended up getting me shot. I thought about…how weak I was…how awful I felt…and what I thought, was, I don’t want that anymore. So I thought…If I went and did something myself…just to prove I could…maybe I’d get better…”

“Did you?” Anya asked quickly.

“A little…” you said, feeling a sliver of satisfaction, “I can shoot…I can’t shoot well…and the fear isn’t so bad…it used to be I couldn’t…couldn’t do anything, it was so bad…but I can at least do something…even if it’s not much.”

“Was it worth your eye..?” Anya demanded, trailing off.

“…Oh…I didn’t lose my eye…” you touched the bandage, “…It’s just…I was shot in a place where it…doesn’t work right, right now…my head’s far worse than my eye is…” You looked down at Anya for her reaction, and she was giving you a skeptical look. “…It was worth it, though, to be back in time…I would have been late otherwise, and with how much has happened…who knows what I could have missed…and there were other threats I had to get away from…”

Threats you didn’t want to tell her of, so instead, you went another way. You recounted the story then, of how you hitched a ride with weapons dealers, who then were betrayed. How you evaded the first fight, but had no choice but to deal with the latter. How you met those people in grey uniforms, including the surgeon who treated you, and what her diagnosis post-surgery was.

“That eagle on those boxes is the sign of the Ellowian Republic Military,” Anya said when you brought it up. “I’d have thought you knew that.”

“…How do you know that..?” Anya usually wasn’t particularly learned of particulars such as that.

“Stuff smuggled out of Ellowie. Or sold, maybe. I dunno.”

You finished your story, and without prompting, Anya began telling you about her own wound. She had managed to creep up on a Twaryian tank waiting in ambush- that would have undoubtedly gotten the first shot had it not been for a “gut feeling.” She hadn’t been disguised then, she told you- maybe the black color of the Retinue uniform had fooled the Twaryians, whose standard uniform was black.

She had shot a tear gas shell from her munitions caster- and the disembarking commander, choking from the tear gas flowing through the tank’s air intake as the rest of his crew, disembarked, he had shot wildly in her direction and managed to put a bullet in Anya’s upper right arm, and one on the far side of her chest near her armpit. Just a glancing hit, she said…but she’d say that for more serious wounds anyways. Anya didn’t forget to mention that she captured the tank- and she was quite proud of that from the sound of it.

“Much as I’d want to get started right again training,” Anya sulked into you, “I can’t fight as good with one arm. ‘specially when it might open my wounds if I go at it too hard. I didn’t go to the hospital ‘cause, I was afraid they might force me to stay. With near everyone who’s high up gone...well, I couldn’t do that. Just couldn’t. Even if I dropped dead I’d have to get back up.”

“I won’t let them force you to stay…” you said, knowing full well that it probably didn’t matter what they thought if Anya was proclaiming she’d defy death to avoid being forced to recuperate, “But…I want you to take a day off…aren’t you tired..? You look…very tired…”

“I’m fine.” Anya said quickly, squirming, “What if in that day, while I’m goofin’ off, that’s when the Twaryians hit us again, harder than before? And while you can’t even talk right without near friggin’ canoodling me.”

You were not canoodling her, what a suggestion that was.

“Can’t half ass something important like this,” Anya said, “He wouldn’t be proud of me not doin’ whatever I could to keep everything goin’…” She muttered further, “Hell wouldn’t have raised no piece of shit wuss.” A moment. “A’ight. Lemme go. I don’t like being out in the middle of all this this long not seein’ anything with how the blackcoat’s’ve been acting lately.”

>You had to convince her to take time off- for your sanity as well as her own. Try to convince her of such. (Write In)
>If it was a matter of pride, you could hardly disagree were you in her position, could you? What choice did you have but to let her keep active until the threat was dealt with? She was right, you weren’t in a position to let her relax for even a day, anyways.
>If she wanted to keep fighting, you’d do it beside her. With her wounds and your head, neither of you should be in any fights…but if she was as she was, could you let her go out without trying to protect her? She could at least agree to that compromise.
>Other?

>>3888681
We don't deserve Anya.
We don't deserve any of the fine women Richter's Tohno Gland keeps attracting, but that's beside the point.

>You had to convince her to take time off- for your sanity as well as her own. Try to convince her of such.
The more tired she is, the worse she would be in combat. The longer she persists, the more tired she'll get. So for the sake of combat effectiveness, she has to take a rest sooner than later. Right now is the best time, because the Twaryians have to take time to prepare for the next attack. As time goes on the likelihood of an attack is growing, and Anya has to rest _some_ time.

>>3888681
>If she wanted to keep fighting, you’d do it beside her. With her wounds and your head, neither of you should be in any fights…but if she was as she was, could you let her go out without trying to protect her? She could at least agree to that compromise.
>>3888688
What’s a tohno gland ? Couldn’t find it

>>3888691
It's a thing you have to turn off before sleep lest you wake up covered in bitches.

>>3888700
Is it akin to harem protagonist pheromones ? Need to know how to turn mine on

>>3888681
>You had to convince her to take time off- for your sanity as well as her own. Try to convince her of such. (We can't say we know Hell as well as she does, but surely now that we're back he'd want Anya to be smart enough to take the chance and recuperate. He wasn't super human and neither was she, but knowing your limits is the first step to surpassing them.)

>>3888688
>>3888721
Supporting both of these.

>>3888681
>You had to convince her to take time off- for your sanity as well as her own. Try to convince her of such. (Write In)
Even Heller Von Tracht had to sleep.
She has to remember a time when he'd been wounded and was out of action for a while.

>>3888688
>>3888721
This basically. She can fight wounded or she can fight tired, but both is a death sentence.

>>3888707
start hanging out with vampires and buy a sick knife

Just a late head's up for today, I won't be updating today so I can focus on opening night and maybe have more stuff ready for something coming up. Said something is an armor roster for your unit and an allied one with different equipment I've been saying I'd have for months now. No more wondering what the hell anything is supposed to look like.

>>3889427
Hey tanq just to check when the rest of the Hogs arrive how many tanks will we have?

File: 5th1starmordetachment.jpg (188 KB, 1000x671)

188 KB JPG

It is time to write once more. Opening night went well enough. Eight more to go.

>>3888688
>>3888721
>>3888727
>>3888900
>>3889077
Mandate R&R

>>3888691
The twofer.

Writing.

>>3890424
You will have eight in total once Illger arrives. You can really only crew half of that, but that's besides the point.
Besides that, I now present a dubiously handy reference to your armor assets.
You may note that the armor is a generalization, as are the guns, to a point. This is explicitly to avoid going into frivolous minutiae that would bog everything down, so please don't ask for precise thickness or angle of steel plate. I really don't want anybody trying to math out exactly how much force something can take down to the tenth decimal place.
"Light" armor tends to be resistant to guns up to 20mm in bore diameter, at least from the front. As you can see, none of your tanks have thick armor. A tradeoff for relatively large guns.

You had to convince her to take time off- if not for her sanity, then for your own, for worry of what might happen to her. Fighting injured was one thing- fighting tired was another, but both at once? Flirting with the reaper, if not a sure death sentence in itself.

So you didn’t let Anya go just yet. “…I don’t want anything to happen to you…”

“Nothing’s gonna-“

“So you have to…” you interrupted her this time, “You have to take time off…just a day. It has to be now…or the longer we wait…the more likely it becomes over time that the Twaryians attack…so the best time is now. You have to rest…some time…Even Heller Von Tracht…surely had to rest…”

“…You don’t gotta bring him up, I get it.” Anya muttered in discomfort.

“…He may have been great but…he wasn’t superhuman, was he…neither are you…so indulge me…”

Anya said nothing, and when you loosened your hold on her and looked at her face, she was deeply pensive. “…Fine. Okay. I’ll take time off.” She finally spat out, “Just one day, though. I better not regret it.”

You could finally breathe a sigh of relief. The cold uncertainty of senses was coming back in, slowly…you wanted to be close to Anya’s warmth again, but you dared not test her patience. “…Good…”

“Back on the road then,” Anya said as she started the car again, “Better get that totally fine eye of yours checked out.” She paused after driving back on the road. “…Hey. Don’t let them lock me up in a room ‘cause I’m hurt, alright?”

“…Of course…”

-----

The hospital was as crowded as it was when you left it, but not chaotic. It was actually rather quiet, as some of the idle wounded were recognizable as being from your unit. They waved in greeting at you (or probably at Anya) while you turned yourself and your retinue in to the doctors. Anya was taken elsewhere while you were examined. Your bandages were cut away, and you were stuck in a strange machine you’d never seen before. Something called an “X-Ray” when you asked. Then, a doctor with slick, black hair and glasses saw you, and had you look in multiple directions with your wounded eye (to great discomfort), taking notes the whole time. After being stuck in the hospital all morning and watching a nearby clock pass midday, the doctor finally finished his analysis.

“I’m no ophthalmologist,” the doctor told you, “But it appears the lateral muscle of your right eye has been compromised. The person who treated you before, whoever they were, ensured there were no fragments of bone left in the wound…at least, none that showed up on the X-Rays, and while your right orbit is damaged and there will be scarring, that should be of little concern at this point, comparatively.”

“…That’s…good..?” You hadn’t heard what you wanted to hear yet. “…Can you fix it..?”

“Frankly,” the doctor said, readjusting his seating and his glasses both, “While repair of an extraocular muscle, particular the lateral, is not as particularly invasive or traumatic procedure as it sounds, one could have it done and return home in the same day, the sort of surgery you require is not done here. It is more a task for patients transferred back into the interior, once their health has been stabilized. That, and such surgery is not permitted for you anyways. As an advisor and coordinator, you are explicitly to be returned to the Archduchy should you need treatment such as this. Our obligations only go so far as to keep you in good health. To put it bluntly, you will have to request to be removed from duty for medical reasons.”

“…I…” you were at a loss for words.

“This is a condition best treated sooner rather than later, lest the damage become permanent.” The doctor added as something far from reassuring.
Well, going back to Strossvald wasn’t even an option at all. Yet when faced with your vision impairment becoming permanent, it gave you pause for thought. Surely there was some other way. An idea tried to strike in demanding Yva’s help, but…you remembered Maddalyn’s reference to that brand of healing only working soon after the wound had been taken. It might well be too late to count on sorcery.

>So be it. An eye…well, it’s proper functionality, wasn’t worth abandoning your men. Not after having been wounded entirely due to trying to return quickly. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. You’d have an excuse to wear an eyepatch.
>Maybe you could actually get treatment in Netilland. You just needed enough sway to avoid official channels and have a single day in and out operation scheduled at the closest place that could do it. Who to call upon for aid, though… (Who?)
>Even if there might not be much hope, and you certainly hadn’t endeared yourself to her, perhaps you could try to get Yva’s help. A world of mystery theoretically had infinite potential answers…
>Other?
Also-
>You’ve managed to get Anya to take a day off. Go with her somewhere, send her somewhere, or just tell her to keep in a hospital bed for a day? (Write in)

>>3891076
>>Maybe you could actually get treatment in Netilland. You just needed enough sway to avoid official channels and have a single day in and out operation scheduled at the closest place that could do it. Who to call upon for aid, though… (Who?)
We have a whole bunch of Netillian currency given by the IO right? Any way we can pay for a priority operation as a private patient? Maybe ask this doctor about any contacts he has.

>>3891076
>Even if there might not be much hope, and you certainly hadn’t endeared yourself to her, perhaps you could try to get Yva’s help. A world of mystery theoretically had infinite potential answers…
>Go with her somewhere
if she's in the mood, let's walk around the city and maybe go to a bar

the judge above is having he's daily laugh at the anons who voted for a shortcut

>>3891076
Also supporting >>3891161 as far as what to do with Anya since drinking makes Richter speak better anyways.
And yeah not sure why people voted to go solo at that time

>>3891076
>So be it. You’d have an excuse to wear an eyepatch.
We'll match Maddy. It'll be cute, I swear.
>>3891161
>>3891180
>going solo
We failed to get rid of Richter's pride, so those anons who chose the suicide route were just roleplaying

>>3891161
Seconding. Wonder how she'll react when she hears about Metzeler

>>3891076
>Maybe you could actually get treatment in Netilland. You just needed enough sway to avoid official channels and have a single day in and out operation scheduled at the closest place that could do it. Who to call upon for aid, though… (Who?)
We have cash, ask the Mayor next time we see him if he has any channels he can use.
And if not him then maybe we can barter with Zohl, if anyone has the connections he does. Hopefully his price isn't too disgusting.
I don't think Yva can help, if she does know something I don't think she would tell us, and it's already known that magic can't do anything when it's been this long.
>Go with her somewhere
Bars are a great place if already using painkillers. Maybe Richter can talk better when he's slurring his speech.

I sure hope nobody gets too drunk and tries to hug the fluffy Anya some more

>>3891161
>>3891448
second

>>3890825
Now that's some sexy tonks.
Hey tanq, there's no Geneva Convention against us not painting that captured Twaryian tank yet right? It'd be mighty handy to have in a raid across the border.

At some point we should up-armor Wielzci and get ze fiery fleur Eakova to translate the Twaryian tank controls.

>>3891940
> Hey tanq, there's no Geneva Convention against us not painting that captured Twaryian tank yet right? It'd be mighty handy to have in a raid across the border.
Officially (not that Richter necessarily remembers such) armor and fighters are to be in the colors of their allegiance (Strossvald prosecuting this in rather selectively draconian fashion to ensure Sosaldt bandits/insurgents dress appropriately at least) but treaties tend to be between nations and not recognized universally, and Twaryi's treaties are few indeed. That, and Twaryi and Netilland are not in a state of war anyways, so...who cares? Just don't mistake your infiltrator for the enemy!

>>3891076
>Maybe you could actually get treatment in Netilland. You just needed enough sway to avoid official channels and have a single day in and out operation scheduled at the closest place that could do it. Who to call upon for aid, though…
Didn't we save king Wladislav? I'm sure he'll do this for us if Anya asks him nicely.

>>3891131
>>3891448
>>3892181
Try to weasel your way out of not going home. By either-
Attempted Bribery
Mayoral favor
Bargaining with a Mountain Gremlin Political Officer
Calling in a favor from the High Protector, or rather, King.

>>3891161
>>3891180
>>3891256
Bother the glasses ghost nerd about it.

>>3891588
...both? Well, why not, I suppose. Not exactly mutually exclusive.

>>3891239
They call me one eyed willie. Yet you wearing an eyepatch over an intact eye makes you match more to, er, somebody else...

Writing after I eat. Performances are done for the week so my schedule has calmed again.

Oh, and you're going drinking with Anya. Because the last time went so well.

>>3893818
Anything to help with our courage. Might as well get one of those drinking hats so we can go tanking under the influence.

>>3893818
Well no one said we had to have another drinking contest. Was thinking that we ask her about Gerovic and how the fuck the Netillians got trashed so badly while we were gone.

Wonder whatever happened to Emma

You couldn’t go back, but you weren’t so willing to let go of good binocular vision, either. A solution had to be at hand…

“…Could you or…anybody else…be…persuaded?...If you…” you tried to cough it out as the doctor raised an eyebrow at you, “If you…know what I mean..?”

“Explain.”

“…You know…if you got…monet…monet…tary…compensation?”

“The X-rays did not suggest any damage that would have been done to the brain, but if you feel that you want another pass, it can be arranged.”

…Right. “…I wasn’t…talking about bribery…” you explained, “…I was thinking…of paying…for a pri…private operation…if you knew…anybody…”

The doctor assumed a less guarded posture. “Perhaps. I would not know anybody in particular, but I would recommend you simply go back to Strossvald. Even if your attachment here is strong, you will only be gone for a week at best, I would presume, should you not be kept for full convalescing. The fact of the matter is, the medical profession is administered by the Defense Party, as an enterprise defined as a government affair by necessity. If you do not have friends in the Defense Party, you will not find many who would not advise you as I did.”

You could already guess that this man was not willing to be your friend in the Party. “…I’ll be going…”

“If the bandages need to be changed then come on back here, no need to have any risk of infection,” the doctor said, writing something on a clipboard, “So do not let them get too filthy. I will see you in such a case, hopefully, and not upon being further wounded. Good day, Coordinator.”

-----

When you saw Anya again after another hour, she had her arm in a sling-and was not happy about it.

“Makes me look like an easy target,” she grumbled, “Who cares if there was a bullet in the bone, it’s out now, isn’t it? Psh.”

“…The bullet was…still in there..?”

“Yeah. Cool, huh?” Anya grinned cockily now that she could brag about it. “Those easterners’ll need bigger guns to take me down, huh? Though…” her grin melted as she (for some unspeakable reason) tried to move her arm in her sling. “Weh, don’t exert yourself or your stitches will come out, what exactly do those smartasses think we’re doing, roughhousing for fun?”

…Sometimes, you thought as you eyed Anya sideways, walking out of the hospital.

“Oh,” Anya snapped, “Shit. Right. We can’t train, not as hard as before, at least…Hey.” She poked you, “You really lost everything? Including my lessons?” You nodded. “Fuuuuck,” Anya kicked a patch of loose snow into the air as you went outside, “Some of that shit took a while to beat into your skull, you know.”

“…That’s not…not as bad as…I can’t…”

“No, but you’re in a tank, people cover for you.” Anya said with not nearly the concern this should have elicited. “We really need to fix the goddamn way you talk, I know you can’t help it, but it gets pretty fucking annoying.”

You could easily agree. There was a way to fix it at will, but…you didn’t know if you were afraid of Anya. In the way that set off your…other, omnipresent nervous fear.

“Hands off.”

“…I….wasn’t…” you objected lamely.

“Where to now, then,” Anya said as she opened the car door instead of trying to vault in like usual, “Since I’ve apparently gotta be takin’ a break.”

“…We’re going to see…a woman who lives at the…the cottage Hilda st…stayed at…”

Anya started the car, and watched you get in. “Who, Yva?”

“…You know…her..?”

“Yeah,” Anya shifted the stick and drove forward and right out, ignoring any rules of staying on roads. “She did my hair up for the Langnachtfest party. Grumpus took me to see her. I went to see her a few times while you screwed off. She said you act like a pissant around her.”

“…Well…” the reasons for such couldn’t be explained to Anya. Not if you wanted to keep her happily ignorant of Soulbinders and their ilk, which was a far safer option to not. “…We did…catch her with…with Twaryian…align…aligned…insurgents…”

“Guess you don’t think she’s cute enough to forget where she came from, huh.”

“…I don’t…know what you mean…”

“Dunno why you want to see her if you don’t like her, but, whatever. Let’s get the hell over there.” With that, Anya tested the limits of that poor little utility car in ways that made you wish anybody else at all was driving.

-----

“Gee, where are you going in such a hurry?” Anya asked sarcastically as you practically leapt out of the car in a scramble once it had come to a stop. She’d been much more motivated to get away from the hospital than to get to it, clearly. Your feet touching ground again shouldn’t have felt this pleasant.

A polite knock on the door was made…before Anya shoved past you and just went straight into the cottage.

“Hey, four eyes!” she shouted, “You here!?”

Anya having breached the faux pas on her own, you followed her in and looked about. Yva was not in the front room, but…neither was Emma. Not that Anya would have been able to see or hear her. Calling out for a ghost seemed a poor idea, too.

You did hear Yva move forth from within, to the front. She looked the same as when you’d departed, though she was lacking her glasses, and was naturally not wearing her coat indoors. “Oh. Hello, Anya.” Her eyes moved to you. “…And you. You have returned.”

“Came back just yesterday night.” Anya said for you.

“Where is Rondo?”

“…Von Metzeler will…be back in…a week…perhaps…” you said.

Yva squinted at your new manner of speech, but did not inquire about that. Rather, she asked, “Where did you go? Why is VonMetzeler to return later?”

“…Too long a story…” you sighed, and leaned against the wall.

“Your boyfriend will be fine, four eyes.” Anya said as she poked into the other room. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m wasting away.”

“Rondo is an acquaintance,” Yva sniffed, her eyes following Anya with her mouth a level line.

“Come off it. I hang around this chump and get called his girlfriend all the time for it. Roll with the joke.” Anya went fully into the other room and started talking from there. “Seriously, where do you keep the meat? You can’t possibly be living off of friggin’ bread and fruit jars.”

Yva inhaled, then exhaled slowly before flicking her eyes to you again, Anya noisily dismantling whatever was stored in a search for lunch you were thinking you’d take her out for anyways- and had mentioned as much earlier. “So. Why are you here, then.” Yva said, flatly.

“…I wondered…if you knew…anybody…who could…could help with…this…” you pointed to your wounded eye. “…It was…shot…”

Yva looked to the other room, then back to you. “How long ago?”

“…Two days…”

“I don’t know anybody. Sorry.” Yva said as flat as before. “Not who you would be able to meet, at least.”

It was worth a try, you supposed. Oh well. “…Is anybody…else…not in this…home..?”

“There was. They left some days after your departure.” Yva gestured out the door, “I know not where they went.”

So Emma had just…gone? You couldn’t help but be suspicious of Yva, but it wasn’t as though she seemed to hold particular dislike for the ember. If anything, Yva pitied Emma, rather than seeing her as something that needed to unquestionably be destroyed. Yet it was a loss sorely felt. Until the little spirit returned, you lacked for an invaluable asset in combating a foe that you might have needed every advantage against, in a time where you yourself were weaker than ever. Where had she gone, and why? She would return, wouldn’t she? You vaguely remembered hearing her at some point. Hopefully she was minding after herself, and just didn’t want to be cooped up in the cottage with a soulbinder…

Finishing update later, I have to sleep more.

“…You’re…sure though..?” You tried to say more quietly to Yva. Much as you disliked having to work with sorcery from an untrustworthy source, it may have been preferable to political ducking and weaving.

“I have no reason to hide anything.” Stiff as Yva’s speech was, such was the truth. You supposed you just weren’t lucky.

“…If it had been…one day..?” You asked, but Yva shook her head. “…I see…”

Anya came back from the other room. “You done yet? If I’m going to heal properly I need to eat something that had blood in it. If I don’t get anything soon I’ll kill and eat you.”

“…Thank you anyways…” you said to Yva glumly before going out the door. An actual doctor would have to do, albeit one apparently inevitably entangled in the party politics of Netilland, unless you were to somehow come across a skilled surgeon who also was underground. Would Ellowian doctors be subject to Netillian party scheming, you wondered? Those that remained were under the High Protector’s rule…who was himself subordinate to Netilland.

Yet the High Protector did have power. Power enough to throw Langenachtfest parties and organize Gendarmes, at least. Anya also had favor owed from him. Out of all your potential options, he was perhaps the most influential while also not being of much risk to owe anything to, if this was somehow a greater ask than saving him from an assassin.

There were several other options. The Mayor of New Jorgenstohn certainly owed you plenty, but you weren’t sure how much sway he held in politics. Kommissar Zohl was admittedly one of the figures who cut the largest swathe through such that you were aware of, but owing anything to him…was perhaps a last resort. Especially considering what he might as for in return. You could also swear you knew one other member of the Party, but…they weren’t coming to mind. Their position must not have been high enough to be worth recalling.

Though you were supposed to be managing Anya’s rest and recreation right now. Rather, it seemed that you’d have to or she’d wander back to the line in defiance of any concern for her health. Your idea was to take her to a place, maybe walk around it some, then get some liquor in her before ensuring a good night’s sleep for once. Likely away from camp, considering the Twaryian’s apparent preference for disrupting sleep with mortar barrages. With the entrenchment of the headquarters and likely all other platoon encampments, combined with the ineffective accuracy of the bombardments, they didn’t sound particularly threatening in and of themselves, but they certainly disrupted sleep and wariness. Suffice it to say, allowing Anya to return directly to the camp anyways to a cold, outdoor camp with a cot or bedroll instead of something proper to sleep on would render this effort pointless.

Despite Anya’s concerns, it wasn’t as though nobody was left in command in her absence. Krause was in charge of the detachment, and as always, Captain Kelwin had command of his company. Whether he knew as well how to wield it without advisement (or having direct control steered for him) was uncertain. Anya’s seeming insistence on leading every operation that had taken place, on top of exhausting her, was not exactly allowing Kelwin any direct experience in company leadership beyond clerical duties.

“Hey.” Anya demanded once you were both back in the ruddy little green painted car, the rubberized cloth convertible soft top down, though such had never been any barrier against cold anyways. “Where are we going now? If you don’t say I’m deciding on my own.”

>Go to Kamienisty. It was close, familiar, and maybe Anya would prefer some of the rowdier places there rather than anything relaxed.
>Visit Perlowieza. That was where the High Protector’s seat of power was, and you wanted to go see him anyways. Just a train ride away.
>The UGZ-09 probably wasn’t the first choice for most to take a break. Maybe if one referred to it by its other name of Ackersdol. Though it wasn’t like its name or seedy status ever deterred Von Metzeler…
>Other? (There's no real limit or restriction, really. So long as you can get back to HQ in a day. Or the next morning at least)

>>3895194
>>Visit Perlowieza. That was where the High Protector’s seat of power was, and you wanted to go see him anyways. Just a train ride away.
I'm sure there should be one or two decent hospitals there. Might as well try our luck.
>You could also swear you knew one other member of the Party, but…they weren’t coming to mind. Their position must not have been high enough to be worth recalling.
There's also Maenesko right? Though it doesn't feel has that much influence in the Party either.

>>3895194
>Go to Kamienisty. It was close, familiar, and maybe Anya would prefer some of the rowdier places there rather than anything relaxed.

>>3895194
>>Go to Kamienisty. It was close, familiar, and maybe Anya would prefer some of the rowdier places there rather than anything relaxed.

>>3895194
>Go to Kamienisty. It was close, familiar, and maybe Anya would prefer some of the rowdier places there rather than anything relaxed.
Just not the tavern the Major stays at.
>Other?
>>3895213
Good idea about Maenesko.
There's Kelwin who is a member of the Party but I don't think he has the pull.
There's that random colonel I believe we met at the King's party that was distracting Richter from going down the dumbwaiter.
Maybe the wanna-be General that led the attack on UGZ-07? But we didn't earn any favors from him.

Honestly best bet is the Mayor or Maenesko to smuggle Richter back into Netilland somehow and find a Doctor with more debts than party loyalty.

>>3895213
The seat of the King's power
>>3895216
>>3895224
>>3895383
The Last Stop on the railway before Twaryian country.

Note Sublieutenant Maenesko.

Writing.

Rolled 3, 1 = 4 (2d4)

“Kamienisty…” you said with a snap thought before Anya could decide herself in however many seconds she allowed, “…Just go there and…eventually…go to a tavern…I suppose…”

“It’s pretty early to be drinking,” Anya muttered, “Even if I’m not doing anything all day anyways. Screw it. We can see a film, I guess.”

Kamienisty’s accommodations did include an Officer’s club, which was supposed to have a dance floor and music, but…you weren’t quite certain enough on your feet, still. Your movements were either slow and contemplative or erratic and quick, with hardly any grace to either. Even if you were to take Anya dancing (platonically) your performance would probably be incredibly disappointing. Or was that the fear, infecting you with its contagious uncertainty, making your incapability at some things spread to a feeling of total ineptitude?

There was the training range, too, which might have been something you sorely needed…yet probably not the thing Anya needed, especially with an arm in a sling and her worse arm necessarily being the one shooting. Anya wasn’t actually a very good shot, from what you recalled. Or perhaps rifles were just too long for her to use very well.

Hmm.

“I really hope your idea of taking a girl out doesn’t just involve getting her wasted.”

“…Of course not…” Though thinking back, you could have easily been accused of such. “…I was thinking…of maybe…walking around…”

“Pff. What?” Anya glanced at you with a crook in her lips like she didn’t think you were serious, “Kaministy’s not exactly pretty, you know. C’mon. If the cinema sucks we can get blasted and then it’ll be fun no matter what shit they’re showing.”

“…I thought you said…” you strained, “…It was too early…”

“The more I listen to you talk like a retard the more I need alcohol.” Anya said, “You said booze helps you talk better, right? Or something? So yeah, we see what’s showing, then if it blows, we get drunk and go back.”

That wasn’t so bad, you thought, though you thought it best to be careful with how much you imbibed, lest you end up in a tree again. Unless…that wouldn’t be so bad, either…

-----
>The cinema is showing, in order...
1-Propaganda
2-Romance
3-Outlaw
4-Adventure

“Lebth thee whud’s thowin’,” Anya said through a mouth stuffed with steamed meat dumplings, bought from a Vyemani food cart. The cinema’s food itself was awful, and Anya was ever willing to try new cuisine- especially if it was stuffed with beef and pork. It was also served with sour cream- such dribbling down Anya’s chin compelled you to daub at her face with a paper napkin every so often, for it looking…unseemly. The rate at which she was wolfing down the bite-sized dumplings was as if she was intending on denying you as many as possible, from how she was eyeing your own paper bowl of the pastries, ready to start snatching them up with a provided wooden fork as soon as she had an excuse to. While you waited for the last movie to wrap up, she proved your suspicion to be accurate.

“Gimme!” She tried stabbing for your food as you held it away, “I’m wounded, I need food to get better!”

“…G-get it…” you turned around from another attack, “….Yourself…” Thinking to foil Anya with her vertical disadvantage, you held it above your head…only for Anya to stab you in the side with her fork, making you jump in surprise and drop your bowl…only for Anya to catch it.

“Heh heh,” she giggled to herself, and slowly speared one dumpling to put slowly on her tongue. “Mmh,” she gave you a smug look as she ate your food, “Food tastes so much better when it’s not yours. Aww, what, want it back?” She wiggled the bowl at you, still half full. “Come an’ get it.”

There was a time where you’d have indulged in her game, but…you couldn’t muster it up right now. Not unless you could really will yourself to.

“…Don’t just stand there looking at me like a sad puppy,” Anya’s expression went from smug to put upon, and she closed her eyes and looked up in defiance, “You’re not gonna make me feel sorry enough for you to give it back.” She ate a couple more dumplings, still looking snooty. “…Oh, whatever shit they had on’s over. Let’s go.”

When the movie started, you couldn’t help but be pleased- you knew the book this movie was based off of. Rogues of the West Windlands- a title referring to where the book series started- and took place. The wild far West, in lands scorched and blown about by the Great Gales, the maelstrom uprooting earth itself, and in the days following their departure, a group of adventurous prospectors venture into what was practically new land. Sixshooters and swords, gunfights and swordfights alike, as Vinstraga clashed with the lands of Zhantao- it was one of your favorite books, even if it elicited eye rolls from some of the more cultured students at the academy.

…There the movie started. Not how the book started, but you knew the scene. It was Caparetti, a Vitelian from the early days of its imperial ambitions competing with the Reich, with a wheel gun in one hand, and an eastern blade in the other- the blade of Shun-Lao, prince of the Kingdom of Cho, who lent his sword for Caparetto to pursue his diabolical uncle Zhi-Lao Tun…but it wouldn’t proceed to the end from there, you knew. That was a scene near the middle-end of the book. It nevertheless showed Caporetti fight his way through a mob of hired goons in a running gun-and-sword fight.

Anya was utterly transfixed, and you sneakily slipped your dumplings back into your possession.

-----

“That kicked ass,” Anya said as she tugged you out of the theater. “C’mon, drink time. The next thing sounds like a stupid government picture anyways, talking about how the party’s boots taste like candy or whatever.”

…There were a few elements of the book that had been cut out that you felt shouldn’t have been, but yes, it was a good adaptation.

>Drink responsibly. Even if Anya mocked you for it. It didn’t take much to warm you from the fear, after all.
>If the next picture was going to be propaganda, Anya was right, you needed to barely be able to walk. Drink like there’s been a drought.
>Screw going back to the theater. Buy a bunch of liquor and rent a room. Nuts to the implications, too.
>Other?
Also, if you want to chat it up-
>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone (Any in particular?)
>Talk about the movie. Keep things light. You’re doing this to keep her mind off things, right?
>Other?

>>3895758
>>Drink responsibly. Even if Anya mocked you for it. It didn’t take much to warm you from the fear, after all.
We need to be able to fish around for a doctor afterwards. Also remember to buy a flask and something to fill it from.
>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone
What tank tactics do the Twaryians seem to employ? Any significant disadvantages of their tanks we can exploit with our own?

>>3895769
This is good, emergency flask instead of wakeleaf is marginally more responsible.

I am curious how Netilland is portraying Twaryi now that the war is over. I don't think we'll need to push too hard to turn skirmishing into something worse.

>Other?
Could she see herself as a sky pirate? Could metal pigs fly?

>>3895758
>Screw going back to the theater. Just go for a drink, but don't rent a room.
>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone (Did our base seem to be the Twaryians' target, or did our patrol intercept them on the way to elsewhere?)

Also, I'm pretty confused by the anons' decision to go to the movies instead of seeking medical help

>>3895758
>>Drink responsibly. Even if Anya mocked you for it. It didn’t take much to warm you from the fear, after all.

>>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone (Any in particular?)
Aftermath of UGZ7? How are the ashes doing and news of the NLF

>>3895758
>Drink responsibly. Even if Anya mocked you for it. It didn’t take much to warm you from the fear, after all.
>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone (Any in particular?)
What tactics are the twarians employing

>>3895769
Supporting

>>3895758
>>Drink responsibly. Even if Anya mocked you for it. It didn’t take much to warm you from the fear, after all.
>>Ask about the battles that happened while you were gone (All of them)

I am back around after running game. And sleeping too long.

>>3895769
>>3895783
>>3895834
>>3895922
>>3895868
>>3896444
All sorts of questions. Don't get drunk, except for one vote to at least not embarrass yourself in public.

Writing.

The drafty and dusty tavern you took Anya too wasn’t overly crowded with it still being relatively early, but you could tell from the fresh scuffs and dents all about that this was a place one didn’t go to if they wanted a quiet evening, which probably suited Anya just fine. So long as she didn’t become one of the disturbances, or decide to cross one that blew in.

“Glass of whatever you have that’s closer to paint stripper than grog,” Any leaned over the bar and you sat next to her. “He’s buying.”

“…I am…” you nodded at the boney, thick jawed man serving, whose arms were as thick as tree trunks, his sleeves rolled to the elbow despite the lack of heating.
“Same thing for him.” Anya gestured over to you.

“…Uh…” you’d actually planned on not drinking too much.

“Come on,” Anya grouched at you, “If you start with piss water it’ll take forever for you to start saying anything, and by that time I’ll be blacking out.”

“…You shouldn-“

A pair of glasses full of completely clear liquor were put in front of you, that burned the nose to even breathe the air near, and Anya immediately picked one up and started knocking it back. “Ffehh,” Anya curled her lip, “God that’s disgusting. Hey, Richter, take your medicine.”

Somehow you didn’t think you wanted to, watching Anya’s reaction and looking at the glass before you, but you obeyed nevertheless. You held your nose and drank…it tasted like it smelled, except ten times worse, and your eyes were watering by the end as you gasped for air. That might have been the worst thing you’d ever tasted, just because it didn’t taste like something meant for consumption, but more something…this wasn’t actual paint stripper, was it?


“That’s the way,” Anya slammed her glass back down.
“…So ah…” you tried to start things off, as the radio buzzed out news that was just reruns of days old happenings. Today must have been refreshingly slow. “…Do you want to….talk about what happened…while I was…was gone?...Your battles…how Twar…Twaryians fight..?”

“Hmph.” Anya’s mouth curved down. “I’ve written reports on that. Didn’t you read them?”

“…I want to…hear it from you…”

Anya spun the glass around a few times, thinking. “Fine, whatever. Okay. I mean, this isn’t how they’ll fight once they’re actually at war, I bet, because they do things sneaky. They like moving around at night, doing little annoying shit like their mortaring and stuff, but they’re pretty easy to scare off then. They’re always poking around is the deal. They’re not afraid of fighting in the dark either, but the thing they really don’t like is getting stuck. If they think they can’t break you, they’ll run off. I think it might be because, they pack light, so they can’t fight for long, but if it looks like things are turning south, they’ll hit the road like that. They like winning and like doing it quick.”

“…Is that so…”

“Yeah, not exactly hard to understand, huh. They also don’t like fighting when there aren’t more of them, or they don’t think they’re stronger. Mostly when they’re on the attack. That’s what happened on the hill, you see. When I went over there with Fourth Platoon and they stopped tearing apart Third Platoon, they didn’t feel so confident anymore, so they used the night to get away. That’s their deal on the attack. They don’t like taking risks. On the defense, though…they can act awful quick. Unless that’s just a certain commander. It feels like fighting two different sorts of enemies if you try and hit them in their territory compared to them hitting us out here. Like…alright, I guess, they really like to know what they’re fighting before they actually commit, unless they’re pressed for it. It’s not that their soldiers are apprehensive or wimps, it’s that some of their commanders, at least, are over cautious.”

“…I’d think…a cautious person wouldn’t raid…like they’ve been doing…”

“Nah. Makes me think somebody’s kicking them along.” Anya tapped on the bar. “Hey, barkeep! I’m gonna die of thirst over here!” Back to you. “Maybe that Gerovic guy. I don’t know what to think of him himself. I haven’t fought him in a tank enough to know, the only time we traded shots, I think he was just feeling things out.”

“…What happened at the Hill?” you asked, “…Did they seem to be coming for us…or were they heading somewhere else..?”

“Hell if I know. If I were to guess, I’d say they weren’t coming for our base. Can’t be sure though. We didn’t catch any of ‘em. Cause…” Anya’s brows sank and her mood went dark. “Hmph. Dumbasses…”

“…Hm?”

“Those Blue Knights people.” Anya said angrily as she watched the bartender refill her glass. “With how they just got walloped. I had to call in our tanks to cover our asses because they got beaten so bad, and then we got chased down by tanks. If that didn’t drain all our fuel we could have turned the hill fight into a big win. People had to take on tanks with no sure way of knocking them out. We weren’t sure how well the gas works on ever model.” Anya tipped her finger on her glass, then pushed it away and put her chin in her arms as she leaned over the counter. “…It wasn’t my fucking fault.”

It did still puzzle you how the Netillian armor had been so soundly defeated. You asked after that next- and if Anya had figured out any weaknesses of Twaryian armor, but her mood had been soured.

“They fucked up and got there way too late. Then they tried to slug it out instead of trying to pull back and get a better position. They got hit first, and I don’t think they got much in the way of shots off. See…the Netillians and Twaryians don’t turn out. That’s a big weakness they both have. You ever see a Twaryian tank? ‘Course you have, they had ‘em both with the Blood Suns and the Death Heads. Not that I ever got to ride in one. Point is, their visibility tends to be bad. No cupola, and the viewports are few or not good. They’re not great to turn out of either. Both Twaryians and Netillians just coop themselves in their boxes all the time, even when there’s no enemies around. It makes them easy to sneak up on. They end up not seeing shit and getting surprised.” Anya rose only slightly to crack her knuckles. “Next time those shit heads pop up, they’re dead men rolling. I guarantee it.”

“…They couldn’t win an even fight..?” you trailed on part of what Anya said.

“Their tanks tend to be better armored and have stronger guns. If it was just a one on one slugfest it would have still been bad. The Netillians haven’t fought Twaryian tanks, I guess. Or not these ones.”

“…Can our tanks handle them?” Your speech and rapidity of construction had definitely improved, even though you hardly noticed transitioning to a clearer mental state. You’d have to invest in a flask to store some high proof liquor…

Anya flashed a small amount of uncertainty before her face set. “We’ll have to see. In any case, I wouldn’t plan on shooting ‘til I had a real good shot, anyways. That’s the best way to do it. You get your good shot, you shoot once, maybe twice, and it doesn’t matter because you don’t give them the chance to shoot back. Doesn’t matter how good their armor or guns are if you do it like that.”

“…You really want to get back at them, huh.”

“’Course I do.” Anya drank more heavily and finished her second glass, banging on the counter for a third. The subject had put her in more a mood, it seemed. “We haven’t had a win yet. I hate losing. Maybe we didn’t lose, but we sure as hell didn’t win.”

“…You won against the insurgents, didn’t you..?”

Anya appeared dissatisfied. “That doesn’t really count.”

Was that truly so? The scarred girl didn’t seem interested in debating the point from the curl in her lip. You were feeling well and truly buzzed, but this awful stuff was putting a blush in Anya’s cheeks already. “…You should slow down some…”

“Bite me.”

“…Speaking of insurgents…” you thought to ask of the NLF and the Ashes, but in a public place like this, it was best to be circumspect. “…How did the situation with UGZ-07 turn out..?”

“It’s calmed down now. Couple of days after that Cyclops woman showed up, the fighting was over. It wasn’t a big win I hear like the Netillians wanted, but, they did a lot of damage, so,” Anya shrugged. “Lot of people got moved out of the UGZ afterwards. They’re gonna be transferring more people in, I hear. Shipped the people suspected to be involved in the uprising to a plain old prisoner camp.”

A prisoner camp couldn’t have been too much worse than a UGZ poorly maintained, but you wouldn’t make assumptions on that matter. “…And the kids? They’ll just have to sit in the Ashes..?”

Anya gave you an annoyed glance like you hadn’t hid that as well as you should have. “Sucks for them, but it’s none of our business. They’ll be fine.” Presumably, she was communicating that her protégés were healthy and hale. For children living in the woods. “…Somethin’ that isn’t work next, c’mon.” Anya had started thinking about something that made her eyes suddenly heavy.

You could oblige. A bit. “…So er…have you ever thought about becoming a sky pirate..?” Anya turned her head around to stare at you quizzically. “…Could metal pigs fly, as they say..?”

“I’ve never been in a plane,” Anya looked at the counter with a small pout in her lip, “…I don’t think I’d like being up high either.”

Somebody came in, and Anya’s eyes snapped to the right. Her pout became a grimace, then a snarl.

“I was told you would be here.” An oddly cultured Ellowian accented voice came from behind. You turned to see a tallish man in the dark green and black of Ellowian armor, his long black hair tied in a braid that was laid down his collar. Almost certainly out of any regulation length. Certainly a special exception. “I received this missive of pure filth from your adjutant there,” the man unfolded a piece of paper in his pocket. “I would read a section, but there is not a single part that is acceptable to speak in public. Suffice it to say, we must needs have words. I am Captain Magnus Edelschwert.” Edelschwert stood with his hand behind his back, glowering at you and Anya. “You are Coordinator Richter Von Tracht. You’ve been hard to get a hold of as of late.”

“The only thing you must needs is to fuck off,” Anya said through clenched teeth. “Unless you want to have a fucking fight.”

Magnus slit his eyes at Anya, then without looking at you, queried, "Does this mercurial ragamuffin speak for you, Von Tracht? I would have expected better of a nobleman. It takes little imagination to conclude how you would allow a reckless acquaintance play with the lives of men as toy soldiers." The way he said acquaintance clearly implied more, and none of his tone was something you'd ever liked from other higher class students in the academy.

>Anya was right. You weren’t entertaining whoever approached you today. He could come some other time.
>Tell Anya to calm herself. You wanted to talk to Captain Edelschwert. (About what?)
>That this man had ordered an investigation of your retinue was an insult. An insult to be met with Anya’s suggestion. (Pick a fight)
>Other?

>>3897695
>Tell Anya to calm herself. You wanted to talk to Captain Edelschwert.
Okay, I have no idea if this'll work, but.
Say we were just conducting an investigation into the matter and the Captain arrived at an opportune time.
Treat him to a drink and ask to hear his side of the story.
(Send Anya to the bar to drink some more away from us).
Deflect any accusations and judgements with questions about factual details.
Pretend to be friendly and simpleminded. Don't come off as confrontational or smartass (our speech impediment should help here).
Ask innocent but insidious questions.
The goal is to make the Captain dig his own grave and basically explain to himself why it was the Blue Knights' fault.
Use alcohol to maintain confidence.

>>3897695
>Anya was right. You weren’t entertaining whoever approached you today. He could come some other time.
We've both read her report on the battle. If he disputes the veracity of it, he can take it up with command, and we'll vouch for her report while none of the dead motherfuckers under him will be able to vouch for his dispute.
If its a strictly personal problem than he can take it up with her at another time.

>>3897713
Supporting this for now. Even if we're in the right let's not try pissing off every other unit with us on the line here.

>>3897713
Supporting

>>3897713
+1

>>3897695
And here I thought his hair was going to be blue...

>>3897713
Worth a shot, we need more Netillian contacts.
Ask specifically about Netillian armor strengths and weaknesses in his mind and compare to what Anya has said. If we imply that most of the fault may come from the machines it may mollify him somewhat.

Since it seems the tank designs of the two new enemy nation's seem to poorly complement each other, especially in a slug out match as Anya said what happened.

If it doesn't ruffle his feathers more, ask him about his current fighting strength.

>>3897713
Seconding. We apologize if he feels our subordinate failed to control her temper, but it's our understanding that from her perspective his tanks utterly failed to provide promised armor support to our own company when it was desperately needed. Surely he has his own side of the story he would like to share?

>>3897713
>>3897777
>>3897835
>>3897853
>>3898054
>>3898269
Deceptive problem solving. Possibly.

>>3897730
Go away m8.

>>3898054
>And here I thought his hair was going to be blue...
Well I'm not quite that much a hack and the only funny color hair people known of on the continent are the mountainfolk anyways.

Writing

In spite of wishing to write I became beyond dead.
Update soon now though.

“…Anya…” you called your retinue’s attention again, and the sharp edge of her glare struck you instead of Edelschwert. You did plan to talk to the Captain, but you also had no desire to toss Anya to the wind either. You closed one eye at her. “…Go on over there. Get some more to drink. Whatever you like…”

The “mercurial ragamuffin” blinked twice, looking back to the Captain, then, to you, unsure if the treat would be sweeter than a fight, but she soon said, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t bitch later if your tab’s too high.” She then got up and went far, far down the line, leaving you with the captain. A descendant of knights, as you were. Well, in a way.

“…You wanted to talk…” you hoped your lingering clumsiness of the tongue could be construed as being casual. At worst, simpleminded, but hopefully not rude. “I’m here…you actually arrived at an opportune time…I’ve arrived back recently…and was actually looking into events that happened in my absence myself…including the events for which you are having an investigation carried out, apparently…”

“The Kommissariat is not useful for much, and their lack of timeliness on addressing some matters is grating, but they are whom the task is meant to be given. Especially given you and your subunit’s foreign status. It would have been preferable to not have to request their interference, but I thought without them I would be rebuffed where I sought answers.” Edelschwert frowned, “And justice.”
“…Do you drink, captain?” you gave a subtle invitation, pushing Anya’s former seat out further with your foot.

“Wine, when the occasion calls for it.” The captain added after a moment, “This is not such a time.”

“…Ah…” Well, no friendly hand in alcohol to blunt his nerves, then. “…I see. Sit beside me still…I have been wanting to hear your side of the story…”

Captain Edelschwert glanced at the seat and then hesitantly sat in it, as though the residual warmth from Anya’s behind might corrode at an icy demeanor he wished to maintain. “I was not at the battle in question, but I did hear of the events from my men who survived. Lieutenant Arlatz was not a dear friend, but he was my loyal comrade. Yet the report turned in would imply that he was slain by carelessness. I would challenge that.”

Edelschwert didn’t seem agitated, merely resolute, albeit in a direction that was aiming to be a thorn in your side. Though him not actually being present was a weakness in any testimony. “…Then, the story your men told you…”

“Indeed.” The Captain of Netilland glanced over to Anya, perhaps to make sure she wasn’t listening in for any witty additions. Which she was not. At the very least the thing she was emptying into her gullet was something with color in it. As well as a cherry. “My men told me that they were allowed to drive into an ambush, and were unable to so much as identify the direction of the enemy before their vehicles were knocked out. That your adjutant-“

“Retinue…”

“Adjutant,” the Captain spoke over your slow interruption, “Retrieved them, is a minimal obligation.”

There were already contradictions. Anya claimed that the 12th Armored’s platoon had arrived twenty minutes late, and had thus lost the initiative to an armored quick reaction force. She also claimed that they had lingered in battle rather than disengaging. Anya was not the sort to lie, not about this sort of matter, certainly, so either the armored cavalrymen were being deceptive, or they were quite confused about the whole ordeal. You nodded, prompting a continuation.

“Afterwards, a reconnaissance element consisting of an armored car section was made to delay the Twaryian counterattack upon the raid. One of those was lost, as well. I am not fond of my men being used as shields, Coordinator. Especially if such is due to another commander’s lack of competence.”

Lack of competence. “…You understand, that my retinue’s report tells…an entirely different story of the first part, as for the second…you only take exception due to your men suffering…the majority of the casualties?...What is your current strength, if…you don’t mind me asking..?”

“After the loss of an entire platoon,” Edelschwert said sorely, “We are reduced to two platoons of vehicles, not counting dismounts, as the fighting vehicles are the primary offensive component. Our reconnaissance platoon is down to three vehicles in total. Losing one third of my company without even bearing witness is vexing, if it needs to be said. The platoon lost was our best, as well, equipped with far fresher materiel than leftover light Ellowian vehicles that saw better days years ago.”

A sore loss indeed, but still far from your responsibility- or Anya’s, for that matter. The subject of equipment came up, though, so perhaps now there was a chance to redirect blame in a safe way. “…How familiar are you with Twaryian equipment, Captain..?”

“Netilland and Twaryi have had no reason to fight before now.” Edelschwert said, matter-of-fact.

“…I see…” You contemplated an empty glass, then after asking the barkeeper to fill it with something gentler than before, decided to share some information of your own. “…I have had some experience fighting their tanks, at least. There are types both older and new that possess quite strong armor…armor such that resists normal guns on many tanks. Their weaponry is also more powerful…I would suggest, perhaps…that your men were not prepared for this enemy…” Especially if Edelschwert’s group was assigned lighter vehicles.

“A possibility. Were it not for that my men did not report being able to engage the enemy at all. The armor of their vehicles was rather light, yes…but the situation was one I believe where that made little difference.” Edelschwert seemed quite keen that this version of events was the ineffable truth. “Though, with having shared with you the version of events my men told me, I wish to address yours. Or rather, your woman. Of course her report tells a different story. To be frank, Coordinator, I do not trust that account. Nor any defense of her. Tell me, are the two of you in a relationship? Illicit or otherwise?”

“…No. Nonsense…” your unwilling hesitation was not helping matters, as the Captain jumped down your throat.

“I don’t believe you.” He said simply, “I witnessed you at the King’s Langenachtfest party. As my long exiled line has finally returned home, to an Ellowie with a proper ruler, I was invited in honor of my ancestors. I saw you and her, with you quite evidently taking her as a partner- and she was very fancily decorated. Nothing to dress a mere subordinate in. Yes, she was also responsible for rescuing his majesty from potential assassination- but the deeds of the past do not excuse failings since.”

Would Edelschwert believe that any relationship was platonic in nature? Somehow, you got the feeling that his well had already been poisoned, and he was aligning “evidence” in support of such. “…You are mistaken in your presumption-“

“I don’t think I am, actually.” Edelschwert cut in, “Now that I have laid out the field, I will tell you what I want, so that we can maybe save the Kommissariat some time. I just want your adjutant to swallow her misplaced arrogance and issue a formal statement acknowledging her mistake, and an assurance that she will not be allowed in a position of responsibility in your place. An apology in writing would also be good, on top of that. One not worded in the styling of this.” Edelschwert pushed Anya’s letter before you, that you had already seen the contents of.

“…You are asking the Kommissariat to…investigate whether Sergeant Nowicki and I are having an affair..?” you couldn’t help but sound a little incredulous.

“I seek satisfaction for my men, Coordinator.” Edelschwert kept a stiff upper lip. “I will obtain it how I must, if we cannot reach an agreement.”

>Those terms were an insult. He can demand his satisfaction all he likes, but you could assure him that he could do his worst and get nothing. Get this fop out of your sight as quickly as you can.
>What a pain. Yet all he wanted was a bunch of words. Maybe you could convince Anya to prostrate herself for the greater good- it wasn’t as if it meant anything, right?
>It was rather unfair that you were being dismissed so readily. Perhaps you could organize some way of building trust between the two of you? Or at least some assurance that would lead to clear up some misgivings, if not promote some understanding? (Write in)
>Anya might not have been what was suggested, but if such was going to be thought regardless, you wouldn’t stand there and hear her be insulted like this. Teach this dandy a lesson in "satisfaction" if he wanted it so bad. (How?)
>Other?

>>3899748
>>Those terms were an insult. He can demand his satisfaction all he likes, but you could assure him that he could do his worst and get nothing. Get this fop out of your sight as quickly as you can.

>>3899748
>Request clarification on what exactly Anya's "mistake" was.
Either she encountered and engaged the enemy, and consequently the enemy's position was known and there couldn't have been an ambush, or she didn't encounter the enemy, and so didn't know they were there and couldn't have warned the Blue Knights.
It's important that the Captain comes to this conclusion on his own though.
Add to it that it's strange that the scout section not only didn't notice the enemy but was in fact the only survivor. Lead him to the idea that the scouts were at fault (as a tanker, he should carry a predjudice towards guys in mere armored cars).