Daybreak:Volume 3 Chapter 5: Difference between revisions

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===Chapter 6 - Unquestionable Authority===
===Chapter 5 - Arsenal of Faith===


According to Trinitian history, the dragonlord Hyperion had been born on the 'day of the longest night' during year one of the Dragon Age -- the same year when the stellar-nomadic dragonkind made landfall upon this world. Twelve centuries later, this youthful draconic messiah would 'save the world from its sins' by sacrificing his own life to shut down the Abyssal Rift, gateway to the demonic realm where all the evils of the universe manifested in physical form.
"It is finished!"


It came as no surprise that the image of Hyperion casting the unnamed ritual -- later named the ''True Cross'' -- would become the most pervasive symbol of the Trinitian Church, or that this historic birthday would mark the second holiest day of the year for its faithful.
Sylviane breathed out those exhausted words as she released the tension from her sore limbs, leaving Hauteclaire in control of the flight magic keeping them aloft.


That birthday was only three days away. Yet despite the holy time, Kaede found herself standing in an empty field eight kilopaces away from the city with the assembled Knights Phantom of the ''Ghost Riders''. It had taken both days since meeting with King Leopold before Pascal could conclude his obligations in Nordkreuz. The landgrave had done what he could to kick off the recovery efforts, and Kaede had spent much of this time helping assess local talents to whom they could entrust the daunting task of rebuilding.
The Weichsel main force had caught up to the retreating Skagen army this morning. The moment Pascal received the news at Nordkreuz, Sylviane had Sir Robert rush them up through a chain of teleportation jumps. It was vital for the representatives of Rhin-Lotharingie -- herself and her Oriflamme Armigers -- to fight alongside their Weichsel allies as much and as visibly as possible in this campaign. Because soon enough, she would need all the help she could muster from them in exchange.


Now, a fresh cold front had arrived from the north. Amidst the light flurry of snow, a galloping mass of phantom steeds and wagons rode out of the sun in the east. But as Kaede stared at the distant dawn, she pondered just how exactly did soldiers celebrate a white Christmas in wartime.
Her father had taught her long ago that when it came to the lives of nation-states, there was no such thing as 'free goodwill'.


Well, half of her was wondering -- it helped to take her mind off things. The other half was too busy being distracted by a cramping stomach as she struggled not to double over in pain.
''Everything'' had a price, paid in gold, in influence, or in blood.


''The Period of Christmas... God I hate you,'' she blasphemed in the safety of her own mind.
Well, gold did not grow on trees but through the sweat and toil of her people, and she had no intention for Weichsel to dominate the future politics of Rhin-Lotharingie. This left her only one option.


It was almost daunting to realize that roughly one-quarter of all women suffered through this on the jolliest week of the year.
Royal blood might seem an expensive commodity, but her body could certainly spare a few drops.


"<u>Kaede did you take some tea before leaving?</u>"
The battle had seemed simple on paper. The Weichsel army led by King Leopold von Drachenlanzen had numbered 48,000, more than twice the numerical strength of their foes. Furthermore the Skagen Army of the Home Isles, lead by the half-brother of Admiral Winter, Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen, had been stripped of its mobile striking power in the decisive Air Battle of Nordkreuz. With supplies cut off and morale sapped by constant raids from Weichsel cavalry, the 20,000 strong Skagen force had been battered and exhausted.


The familiar, soothing voice over telepathy lead Kaede to turn about. Her eyes soon met Ariadne's supportive smile just a few paces away.
But the Northmen were a tough people bred by the harshness of the arctic gales. Cornered by their Trinitian adversaries, they had fought on like wounded beasts.


The Duchess-to-be and newly named commander of the ''Ghost Riders'' stood next to another white pegasus. Her flowing pink hair and the burning-red fabrics of her open-front uniform skirt billowed in the lakeside breeze. Beneath her collar was a newly minted Knight's Cross and the rank insignias of a Major, as she had been promoted twice in a row for receiving proper Knight Phantom status.
Thrice the dreaded Housecarls and Västergötland Adventurers charged the Weichsel lines, their final assault lead by Jarl Sigmundsen himself. Through the smoke of hellish rimefire, the ferocious Skagen onslaught almost broke the Weichsel center. But King Leopold had stuck his courtblade into the ground in defiance, allowing no retreat for either the men or himself. His courageous rally, assisted by a searing countercharge from the Oriflamme Princess, had bought enough time for General von Blumenthal's right wing to pivot around the Skagen flank and smash into them from behind.


"<u>No. I've only been drinking it before sleep,</u>" Kaede pressed a forearm rune containing one of the ''Telepathy'' spells to reply.
With their path of retreat cut off, the ensuing bloodbath had become a massacre.


"<u>Have some with your meals this week as well. Parzifal had asked some of the commoner medics what they did to relieve menstrual cramps. They said that chamomile tea helps, especially with ginger, peppermint, or raspberry leaves added to it.</u>"
From her vantage point in the air, Sylviane estimated that at least a third of the Skagen force -- around seven thousand -- had been wiped out, their blood dyeing the fields of wintry slush in crimson death. After morale disintegrated and the commanding Jarls fell alongside their Housecarl bodyguards, the less trained militia had surrendered in droves. Only a few small detachments had managed to break out and escape.


''She could tell?''
The defeat was more than crushing for the Northmen. Their Army of the Home Isles had been destroyed, annihilated. After the loss of Nordkapp, the sinking of their skywhale flotilla, and the burning of their beached North Sea Fleet, this fourth hammer blow would surely put an end to northern resolve.


The Samaran girl's eyes widened in response, eliciting a sympathetic nod from the noblewoman whose blessing of magic meant she was above the commoners' problem of monthly period pains.
At least, that was what Sylviane hoped. She needed the military support of her Weichsel allies for the war in Rhin-Lotharingie, and this could only be accomplished once hostilities in the north came to an end.


"<u>It's been enough days since your last time. I took a guess since something seemed to be physically upsetting you. I take it you have a thirty-day cycle then?</u>"
"Your Highness!" the petite Elspeth flew up from near the ground, her caramel-whipped hair billowing in the icy, blood-scented breeze.


Kaede couldn't respond. Given the importance of the female bodily rhythm, she ''really'' should have been tracking her cycle. But after the last time, she had almost forgotten entirely about it until this morning. Had her undergarments not come with self-cleaning enchantments, she would have made a mess in Pascal's bed.
It always struck Sylviane as unnatural how such a cute girl could seem so ''comfortable'' on the battlefield. Elspeth's leather brigandine was smothered in blood by all the faces her short blades had gouged this fight. Yet the young girl was... grinning; her large, apple-green eyes marked not by fatigue but the dancing lights of exultation.


''Can't even keep up with the least time consuming of 'feminine routines','' she thought with a heavy sigh. ''So much for getting used to being a girl.''
"Your Highness!" her bubbly voice repeated. "They've captured Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen!"


"Assuming it stays consistent," Kaede muttered, remembering Parzifal's warning that many girls also had irregular cycles.
Sylviane furrowed her brows as her pupils dilated in surprise. ''That can't be possible!'' There was no way a Northmen commander of his ranking would even contemplate surrender!


As informative the conversation was, it only focused her attention on the cramps and made them feel worse.
"Someone must've bonked his head unconscious in the melee," Elspeth explained. "But I just saw the Weichsens carrying him off on a stretcher!"


Thankfully for Kaede, the reason for their wait soon arrived as shadowy hooves touched down upon the snowy ground. The hundred steeds of the understrength ''Falcon Force'' Knights Phantom were followed by light wagons from the 36th Logistics Company -- vehicles drawn by two ''Phantom Steeds'' apiece and stayed afloat thanks to ''Levitation'' spells.
"Then Weichsel has a serious chance of negotiating a swift end to this conflict," the Princess truly believed this time. "Any idea how many other Jarls they've found or caught thus far?"


They were why she stood waiting far outside the city: to minimize the chances of Gabriel's spies knowing just how much support the Princess really received.
"They've already counted three dead and one other captured, also injured," the reply came from Sir Robert this time, who had linked back into the communication loop.


Four members of the King's Black Eagles also rode within the formation, as Pascal had requested a squad to help with intelligence gathering. His unspoken goal was to keep King Leopold informed through sources that His Majesty would trust beyond any doubt, thereby transforming the expedition's successes into further military support.
The Grand Jarldom of Skagen had only eight Jarls on Fimbulmark Isle. It also bore remembrance that the Northmen leadership marched to war in generations, with their brothers, sons, and even grandsons following close behind. After such devastating losses among their upper nobility, it was impossible to think that they could continue this war.


It was a double-edged sword, as even the closest of allies spied upon one another. Yet as Kaede noticed the familiar sight of a petite dhampir waving from within the formation, she couldn't help but return a smile.
"Then let's pray for the best," the Princess spoke to the distant horizon.


"Welcome to Nordkreuz Sir," Pascal began as he lead the salute towards the highest ranking officer of the expedition.
She would have a voice in the negotiations of course, bearing the royal authority of Rhin-Lotharingie. But it would be Weichsel who made any territorial demands. Her home country was far too distracted to integrate any newly conquered lands.


Colonel Walther von Mackensen was a square-faced, stiff-jawed man who appeared to be in his early forties. His height must be nearing two meters (almost 6'5"), for the colonel towered over his cavalrymen even as they remained sitting on their mounts. A pair of neatly trimmed handlebar mustaches accentuated his stern countenance, and the piercing blue gaze beneath his chestnut hair felt as keen as any saber.
''In either case, time to call Pascal up.''


Apart from the black-on-burning-red uniform of the Knights Phantom, he also wore his iconic hat -- tall and made of black bearskin with the skulls and crossbones emblem. It was matched by every man in the ''Falcon Force'' company, which gave birth to the nickname their enemies knew best: the ''Death's Head''.
Her fiancé had been furious when she denied him the opportunity to join the battle. Her excuse was that teleporting an extra always cost more, and Sir Robert needed every ounce of ether he could spare for the battle itself. But in reality? She just wanted him to stay out of the fray this time. Unlike during Operation Winter Typhoon, this was an orthodox battle for which the King already had a plan, as well as the generals to carry it out.


"Major von Moltewitz. Your Highness," the Colonel nodded to both Pascal and Sylviane, his expression showing not the least bit of change despite coming face-to-face with the royal princess he captured a decade ago.
''Besides, Pascal is no great fighter unless he breaks into his jewelry box, and I'd rather he save that for later...''


"It is an honor to be working with your Sir, and I apologize for any offense the political arrangements might have caused," Pascal conveyed humbly in a display of just how much he respected this man.


"That I am to take my orders from a mere Major?"


The Colonel's smile came out more like a sneer, despite his utter lack of malice.
<nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
 
 
 
Kaede's trip up the next day took a series of four teleportation jumps that left her almost ready to vomit. It certainly didn't help that her meager hours of sleep last night further added to her sleep deprivation. The transit spells then hurled her senses through a repeated cycle of physical sublimation and being flushed down an ethereal whirlpool, which gave a whole new meaning to the concept of 'travel sickness'.
 
''I am never going to get used to that...''
 
"Good Morn... Kaede are you alright?"
 
Kaede's pale cheeks sucked in deep breaths of cold, icy air, and Princess who had been awaiting their arrival stepped up to hold the smaller girl's shoulders.
 
"Yeah, just... give me a moment."
 
The familiar girl sighed as she felt the soothing warmth of Hauteclaire's aura engulf her once more. Her whispers of thanks to the phoenix came answered by a sympathetic chirp.
 
"You really did not have to come outside to greet us," Pascal smiled as he took the Princess' hand and gave it a formal kiss before clasping it between his palms.
 
They were in the presence of Weichsel soldiers guarding the beacon, after all.
 
"I could use some fresh air from the negotiations earlier and you could use an escort; it seemed a good deal."
 
Kaede had to hide her grin as the Princess struggled to maintain eye contact. Even for the sake of appearances, Sylviane would never openly admit that she had been waiting just to see him earlier.
 
 
...
 
 
"Is there a need to section the camp off like this?" Kaede asked a few minutes later when guards at yet another checkpoint waved them through.
 
It felt as if the army was multi-national, with each group having its own partition inside the overall camp. Compared to open-ground bases that promoted camaraderie, all the fences and sentries in this massive encampment felt stifling.
 
"The term is 'compartmentalization'," Pascal looked back to explain. "It enhances security and limits the chaos inflicted by surprise attacks. With all the illusion, teleportation, and alchemical transmutation spells we have available, just how hard do you think it would be to insert a strike team of infiltrators and saboteurs?"
 
One of the key tactics of military special operations was 'Insertion', where a small number of elite troops would infiltrate hostile lines to destroy high value targets and/or sow confusion before a major assault. The availability of magic added a whole new dimension into this realm of asymmetric warfare, as commandos could literally appear out of thin air to wreak havoc upon a military base.
 
"Couldn't they just ward this place in the same fashion as castles? I mean there are thousands of mages in this army."
 
"--And each with a finite reserve of ether that they need to perform other tasks, including fighting," Pascal noted the opportunity costs. "Remember that exposed ether slowly degrade and diffuse their energy back into mana? The magical requirements to keep large-scale wards and barriers continuously running grows astronomical over time. Castles and cities are built over ley-lines where they may benefit from a Projection Focus -- have you read about those yet?"
 
"They're enchanted devices that uses magic from ley-lines to power wards," Kaede mustered a simple reply.
 
She had mostly glanced over them. For someone more interested in the far-reaching, sociological impacts of technology, she often found herself bored by the technical details of 'machinery'. To skip past the minute details to see how innovations altered civilizations and shifted cultures was far more fascinating.
 
"Correct," Pascal nevertheless gave her a passing grade. "Remember that natural mana, not processed ether, flow through the spiritual ley-lines that stretch across the land. Without a soul to refine it, mana lack the malleability of ether that would allow them to simply be injected into a supernatural spell effect."


"Your father would be proud of the work you have done, both in Skagen and here in Nordkreuz," von Mackensen spoke in a low bass that carried his own version of the aristocratic drawl. "So long as you continue to display qualities worthy of your blood and lineage, I do not mind taking orders from a junior. But make no mistake that I shall not hesitate to disregard a foolish order."
''In other words,'' Kaede summarized, ''you can't pour crude oil from a derrick straight into the engine and expect it to run...''


"I shall strive to meet your expectations," came Pascal's sincere reply.
"This is where the Projection Foci come in," Pascal continued on. "They are built specifically for their deployment locale, attuned to the ley-lines each taps by design. They do not refine the mana itself; instead, they harness the magical pressure of the mana stream to energize near-depleted ether cycling through wide-area spell fields."


It became clear that this man respect two traits above all, although Kaede had to guess which one would win out in a contest between the two: ''competence or blood?''
The mental imagery that Kaede painted was a steam engine connected to a geothermal vent, using water to translate heat power into mechanical torque.


The answer to that only grew more complicated as the old cavalrymen turned towards Ariadne:
"But armies in the field have no such blessings," Sylviane hastened the conversation as they neared the destination. "Mages can either use their reserves to fortify, or bolster the army's mobility and firepower." Then, as she looked back with a grin: "Bet you can guess which choice Weichsel picks."


"Major von Zimmer-''Manteuffel''," he uttered her second surname with clear, unmasked contempt. "Although we are both Phantom commanders, rank and seniority dictates that I shall be your direct superior and you shall obey my orders. Is that understood?"
"Of course," the familiar girl smiled back. ''The Weichsel army always attacks.''


''No wonder Pascal had picked him during the 'Manteuffel Incident','' Kaede thought. ''He must consider 'treason' the eighth and ultimate sin.''
Her magic sensitivity could feel the tingle of layered auras as they passed into the innermost camp. Only this small area offered a full assortment of wards that would block teleportation and detect all manners of intrusion, since it protected the single most vulnerable point of failure for a Monarchy -- the King.


She certainly did not miss that von Mackensen proved as shrewd as he was belligerent. Within moments of their meeting, he had already laid the basis for undermining Pascal's command should the young lord fail to meet his standards. Given their difference in both rank and reputation, Kaede had little doubt whom the soldiers would obey.


Meanwhile, the noble lady herself managed -- just barely -- to swallow her own pride and anguish as she returned a perfect salute.
...


"Yes Sir!"


"Your Highness," the Colonel's penetrating gaze swept back to Sylviane once more. "Regardless of my appraisal of the Major, you have my word of honor that I shall see our objectives through. The ''Falcon Force'' is one of most esteemed formations of Weichsel. We shall fight to the last man to defend your honor and uphold the rights of succession as ordained by the Holy Father himself."
King Leopold's expandable cabin -- or at least the outer room -- featured little more than a row of cushioned chairs and a huge desk that doubled as a map table. The only decorations were the man-sized Black Dragon Crest adorning the wall behind him, flanked by the judging stares of copied oil portraits on each side: the founding King Leopold I von Drachenlanzen, and his greatest general, the 'Commoner Marshal' Hermann von Mittermeyer.


The severity of his every demeanor left no doubts among his listeners: this was no declaration made for diplomatic posturing or foreign relations. It was an oath sworn by a diehard adherent of the traditional military caste who truly believed in each and every word.
"Pascal," the smiling figure in his adult prime looked up from a stack of parchment. "It's good seeing you again. How have you been? Brilliant work you did for our country in the Skagen campaign, and your familiar as well," he nodded towards Kaede before acknowledging the Princess.


Taken aback, the Princess scarcely had time to say "thank you" before her fiancé replied with beaming confidence:
"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Landgrave stood sharp to return a knightly salute. Meanwhile Kaede followed it with one of her own, glad to skip the curtsy now that she was an 'Honorary Lieutenant' of the Weichsel army and holder of the Knight's Cross.


"I would not worry about that. We shall make our enemies fight to the last man first."
"I do wish I could have been here for the battle yesterday as well."


"What? Two promotions in three months is still not enough for you?" the King quipped in good humor before gesturing to the whole group. "Please, grab a seat."


"It is not about the rank, Your Majesty. It is the opportunity and experience," Pascal added as Lady Mari pulled up a chair for her mistress, prompting Kaede to follow suit. "I can learn all about command, leadership, and decision-making from books and lessons, but it is simply not the same as experiencing it in the heat of battle."


<nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
"Thanks," he muttered in surprise as Kaede offered his seat before taking her spot standing behind him.


''Even I can be a good little familiar in front of your boss...''


"Your insights do you merit, Pascal," the King flashed an approving grin as he leaned back with a cup of steaming coffee. "What you just spoke of is exactly why I've sent for General... ''Professor'' von Marienfeld, to immediately begin developing a course for 'Command Exercises' using this 'Tabletop Wargaming' concept that we've discussed by letter. It's still far from actual experience, but it will at least put the tactical-track cadets in the spotlight as they formulate large-scale battle plans and respond to an ever-changing battlefield."


"<u>Hey Cecylia, I thought you had told me that Hyperion armies didn't use firearms-- I mean black powder armaments? What about those mortars then?</u>"
Kaede beamed as she stole a glance at Pascal. She wasn't sure when he had began this conversation with the King, but it was always nice to see her suggestions receive adoption on a national level. The Prussian General Staff had first developed wargaming, or ''Kriegspiel'', in the early 1800s using metal pieces and dice. But on Hyperion, the availability of magic meant they could enchant dedicated tables to automate the wargame's mechanics -- something not possible on Earth until the advent of the information age.


The journey ahead was long and quiet, as everyone weaved their own web of telepathy while tireless mounts carried them across the clouds. To keep herself occupied, Kaede had asked Pascal to link the dhampir Black Eagle trainee into their private channel, which also connected to Sylviane.
"Thank you for your support, Your Majesty," Pascal unfurled his own proud smile.


It was a blessing that speaking in telepathy did not require any movement from her jaws, as her teeth were clenched to endure the cramps that seized her abdomen. Kaede had turned up the heat through her enchanted undergarments' temperature controls to help relieve the pain. The cold front from the north might have brought low clouds, masking the expedition's movement into Rhin-Lotharingie. But the feel of freezing winds gusting past her thin body only seemed to worsen her agony.
But before he had a chance to continue, the King snatched back the baton:


''Why couldn't the past week have been 'that time of the month'? At least I could've stayed in bed,'' she complained bitterly in thought as she awaited the topic of distraction.
"So, I'm fairly certain I know what you came here for today. But before you speak of any adventurous fancy, I must know that you're meeting your current obligations."


"<u>I believe I mentioned that elite and specialist troops used some black powder weapons,</u>" Cecylia's mental voice returned in her soft soprano. "<u>The mortars are considered 'specialist weapons', just like the Knights Phantom's grenades.</u>"
King Leopold's fatherly smile faded away as his brown gaze beckoned a stern if not grim shadow.


Kaede hadn't even noticed until now, thanks to the auto-translation magic Pascal worked into the familiar bond. But the Imperial language word for 'mortar' literally meant 'arcing grenade launcher', three words slammed together in true Germanic fashion.
"How is Nordkreuz doing?"


"<u>But unlike the grenades, these aren't hidden inside some warded extra-dimensional space most of the time,</u>" Kaede countered. "<u>So what makes them acceptable as effective weapons when other black powder technologies aren't?</u>"
"It could have been worse, Your Majesty," Pascal sighed as though he really should have expected this conversation. "The final death toll reached just under sixteen thousand -- over one-quarter of the city's original population. Ninety percent of all structures within the city were either destroyed outright or damaged beyond repair, including all port facilities on the lake-side docks. Of the city's defenses, only Headquarters Keep and my estate survived in repairable conditions; the outer fortifications have been reduced to ruins and will need to be rebuilt entirely from scratch."


This time, it was Pascal who answered:
The faces within the room grew dark and darker as the Landgrave of Nordkreuz recited the aggregate numbers from his countless damage reports.


"<u>It is not their effectiveness that is questioned; it is their reliability. Mortars make only a fraction of the Weichsel artillery forces, most of which are still equipped with traditional torsion siege engines. Their destructive capabilities are a blessing for battles. But as a specialist, support weapon, their limited deployment also means their loss could not decide a battle by itself.</u>"
As a city that thrived on its strategic location, Nordkreuz served as both an important military staging point and the largest trade junction in Northern Hyperion. Yet now, with its fortifications gutted and its water traffic stopped, the city once known as the 'Jewel of the North' had become little more than a lakeside fishing village.


"<u>It's probably harder to grasp since you're from a world without magic,</u>" Cecylia patiently added. "<u>But black powder's vulnerability to the elements means it's ''extremely'' susceptible. The smallest ember causes it to combust; the slightest spark ignites it; a mere splash of water renders it useless -- these are all effects that even the most ''basic'' of spells could conjure.</u>"
Well, perhaps not quite that disastrous, as Pascal began to list off the 'good news' next:


Kaede knew that there were many modern explosive compounds that mitigated or even avoided these pitfalls. But of course, since Hyperion never embraced the earliest form of gunpowder, they also lacked the incentive to research more stable blasting compounds. It had taken centuries on Earth before Alfred Nobel invented dynamite, the first 'safe' explosive; on Hyperion, this process could take millenniums.
"But the most important factors are that one, the bulk of the city's population -- especially its richer, mercantile sector -- survived the calamity..."


"<u>But you also have defensive spells and wards to counteract that...</u>"
It wasn't really fair that the city needed its rich more than the poor, but the world was never fair. The most essential resource for the city's reconstruction was money: coins to purchase supplies, hire engineers, and organize labor. Spare muscle always proved easier to find in the aftermath of a disaster; it was the materials and expertise that proved rare.


"<u>Sure, except most of those spells -- like the often used ''Legion Resistance'' -- only reduced the damage dealt by elemental magic; they don't negate it outright,</u>" Cecylia went on. "<u>I mean there are spells that can, but those spells are also one, harder to cast and two, drain more of our precious ether reserves -- which is a fairly big deal when the ''Legion'' spellword duplicates the same effect across an entire squad or platoon.</u>"
"--Two, the city held sufficient stocks to survive a long siege, and the bulk of our underground storage facilities survived. Thanks to General von Falkenhausen's excellent logistical preparations, the army also left enough extra winter supplies and camping equipment that Nordkreuz will have little problem providing for its own refugees."


It was one of those arguments that reminded Kaede: in war, or perhaps society in general, everything had to be considered in scale. It wasn't enough that a requirement could be met; the solution must also satisfy the objective in ''quantity'' to be truly effective.
''It'll still be an unpleasant winter for them, just not a deadly one...''


"<u>Soldiers also have body armor and padded clothes to help absorb any lingering damage that passes through, not to mention people could endure minor burns. But what do you think happens to the infantrymen who are trying to load a black powder projectile?</u>"
Without a shortage of food, water, and shelter, there would be no need for Nordkreuz's survivors to disperse into the countryside; not unless they feared a repeat of the disaster.


Kaede shivered as that horrific explosion during the Air Battle of Nordkreuz replayed in her mind's eye: the sight of a fireball engulfing dozens of comrades, of mangled bodies, severed limbs, and burning carcasses. Scenarios like that didn't just kill the unfortunate troopers caught by the blast either; it also demoralized entire armies and made soldiers distrust the very weapons held within their hands.
"--Three, our decisive victories against the Skagen forces have eliminated any major threats to the city and uplifted the morale of the populace. While there remains a great deal of sorrow, many feel that their grievances have been avenged by Your Majesty and the army."


The Knights Phantom were elites with exceptional gear, discipline, and morale. They could be entrusted to use the most dangerous and destructive armaments for equivalently high returns. But the average soldier or conscript farmer? Individuals who quaked in their boots from 'just' the looming death of a massed cavalry charge?
That was an optimistic assessment, as Pascal had omitted the outcry that called for the heads of the Skagen leadership. Weichsel's own propaganda certainly didn't help, as they piled on the blame for the Northmen's 'ruthless butchering of civilians' in order to draw the spotlight away from their own defensive failures. Nevertheless, it was true that civilian confidence had largely been restored.


''...They would desert their weapons and run.''
Shadows of smile and confidence had returned to the King's lips after Pascal presented one point after another. By now, his eyes shone with light that not only agreed and approved, but stood impressed by the young liege lord still scarce of twenty.


"<u>Combine this with the fact that black powder couldn't even be stored in large quantities,</u>" Cecylia continued. "<u>I mean: destroying ten thousand arrows? That takes work, or at least powerful spells that few mages could cast. But ten thousand stones of black powder? Even a child could light a match. Then what do you do with those 'firearms'? Use them as clubs?</u>"
...And that, was when Pascal added his finishing touch:


"<u>It'd be worse than a Lotharin army without arrows,</u>" Sylviane commented dryly.
"In light of these conditions, I have created a system to fund rapid recovery and reconstruction for the city through the open trading of investment funds. All private commerce and industry owners have been invited to publicly speak their business propositions, where they will sell a percentile share of their future establishment in exchange for cash investments necessary for rebuilding. I have also taken initiative to do the same for the housing sector and public facilities, beginning with a sizable investment from my own coffers."


The Rhin-Lotharingie military was heavily dependent on its massed archery, courtesy of a national sport that taught every self-respecting man how to shoot and hunt. The common recruit also came with axes, mostly of the tree-felling variety. But without ammunition and forced to engage as light infantry, even a victory would leave the army in ruins.
For the first time, the King's eyes widened as his mouth opened in stunned silence. Then:


An army that emphasized firearms only made this worse, as the Swedish Carolean Army of 17th century Earth learned that even muskets with bayonets were a poor replacement for proper melee weapons like the sword.
"You are just full of ideas, aren't you?" he chuckled with astonishment still trailing his voice.


On Earth, early firearms like the arquebus were unreliable, inaccurate, and had a dismal effective range. Their greatest benefit over archery was that a conscripted farmer could be expected to become proficient within weeks of training rather than years. But on Hyperion, where massed deployment of gunpowder troops posed both unique logistical challenges and significant tactical vulnerabilities, it was unsurprising that the military establishment kept to their traditional ways.
Kaede was now grinning from ear-to-ear.


"<u>If that's the case, then what makes mortars so special that they could at least make a limited deployment?</u>"
With morale boosted by the recent victories, the geo-societal conditions that once shaped Nordkreuz into the 'Jewel of the North' would inevitably bring forth its recovery. Reconstruction was synonymous to 'growth', presenting business opportunities that entrepreneurs would seize with relish.


"<u>There are two main benefits to mortars,</u>" Pascal began. "<u>The first is that, like all other grenades, mortar shells are encapsulated. The casing wouldn't stop proper assault spells from detonating the powder, but it at least offers some protection from fire, and more importantly -- the weather.</u>"
The only limitation was the availability of funds.


Pascal had actually shown Kaede a Weichsel 'tandem-charge mortar round' yesterday. Within the thin iron casing were two cylinders of black powder separated by an air gap, held apart by light springs and secured with safety pins. When a shell was dropped into the mortar tube, its momentum would force the upper container to fall onto the lower one. This drove a flint ignition rod into the lower powder chamber where it scraped against a sharply angled steel file. The sparks would then detonate the lower charge, hurling the shell's remnants into the air while igniting the timed fuse to its upper powder chamber. Mortar gunners could even adjust this fuse through a screw on the side, with veterans aiming for the ideal 'airborne burst' where shrapnel rounds exploded just overhead the target for maximum mayhem.
The modern concept of a stock exchange had been established as early as 1600 when the Dutch funded the mercantile ventures of the East India Company, and the idea of 'investment shareholding' traces back even further to ancient times. There were signs that the Holy Imperium's commerce guilds and the Grand Republic Merchant Alliance of Samara have adopted similar practices. But this foundation of modern finance had yet to establish itself in the militant state of Weichsel.


It was an impressive design, despite its crude triggering mechanism. On Earth, it would take until the 19th Century -- half a millennium after the first arquebus saw mass deployment -- before the percussion cap was developed to allow for sealed cartridges that could fire reliably in any weather. Yet on Hyperion, the advancement of grenades had already bypassed that and went straight onto the modern 'tube mortars' first invented in World War I.
Since their return to Nordkreuz when she heard Pascal's money concerns, Kaede had spent many hours inspiring and advising him to create a system of public investment and stock trading. Although her lack of financial knowledge left countless questions unanswered, she had no doubts that the local business and legal experts would be more than capable of filling in the blanks once the idea took hold.


"<u>The other benefit is that it is an indirect artillery weapon,</u>" Pascal highlighted the high trajectory firing arc that defined mortars. "<u>This means we could fire it from within trenches and deep pits, where they would not only be hidden but also protected from most attack spells. A ''Resistance Screen'' could even be applied on top of the pit to protect the weapon and its crew from overhead spell bursts.</u>"
"How are the local merchants and craftsmen liking it?"


Kaede nodded in acknowledgment, her curiosity finally satisfied enough to move onto the next question:
The young lord shrugged as he answered his sovereign:


"<u>So apart from grenades, launchers, and flamethrowers, are there any other combustible weapons that Hyperion actually uses?</u>"
"Mixed, as with any new idea. Some think it is brilliant, some approach tentatively, and some reject it outright, fearing it will rob them of their business' freedom. Overall, the younger generations are more optimistic towards the concept than the older, more established. The guilds are also afraid that it will destabilize the hierarchy; so I had told them that if they want to retain control the market, ''invest'', because Nordkreuz will rise from the ashes -- with or without them," Pascal finished with a satisfied smirk.


"<u>Satchel charges? I guess they're just oversized pillow grenades, hehe,</u>" Cecylia mused openly.
"Ha-!"


"<u>Same with the bangalore torpedo javelins that Garona Hippo-Cuirassiers use,</u>" Sylv added, making the auto-translation magic adapt yet more foreign terms to Kaede's dictionary.
The King had almost burst out laughing. Mirth filled his eyes as his lips and shoulders continued to shake in suppressed glee.


It was Pascal who finally found the answer:
"I'll have to ask the good Cardinal to stay an eye on this project and keep me informed," King Leopold chuckled again before taking another drink of his coffee. "If this works, we'll need to consider expanding to the other cities."


"<u>Mines.</u>"
"It will not be easy to achieve this under normal conditions, since any established guild will feel threatened by their loss of market control," Pascal added.


Without proper firing pin technology, Kaede doubted Hyperion mines could self-detonate. But that never stopped the partisans of World War II from rigging manually-triggered minefields to devastating effect.
"Well, I'm sure Lisbeth will ''convince'' them somehow; she's a resourceful woman."


"<u>Oh, and the Imperials have rocket carts that could launch salvos up to four dozen.</u>"
Leopold closed the topic as though he knew exactly what kind of underhanded if not illegal methods Cardinal-Chancellor Lisbeth von Lanckoroński utilized to make ends meet, which left Pascal frowning with concern.


Pascal appended it as though it were an afterthought, but Kaede's eyes bulged upon hearing it:
"You are your father's son, Pascal. I could not have asked for a more confident report of Nordkreuz's situation in light of recent events," he nodded with an approving grin. "Thus... onto the main topic then! How many troops do you want?"


"<u>They have ''Katyusha Rocket Launchers''!?</u>"
The Landgrave blinked back in surprise, as did Kaede and the Princess. None of them had expected the King to be this straightforward, or agree so readily.


"<u>They took that idea from the eastern Dawn Imperium, actually,</u>" Cecylia clarified.
"I haven't said 'yes' yet," King Leopold raised a finger as though he read their minds. "But Weichsel certainly owes Princess Sylviane for our swift victory in the Skagen campaign. It is only natural that we support her rightful claim to the throne of Rhin-Lotharingie in return."


"<u>It was impressive for about two battles</u>," Pascal commented in a voice that was anything but impressed. "<u>Before... I cannot remember the name, but she created a counterspell by adapting the self-guided ''Ether Seeker'', which simply destroyed the heat-propelled rockets in mid-flight.</u>"
''So everything till now hadn't just been a report, but a test as well,'' Kaede surmised.


Once again, human ingenuity proved that magical and physical technology mixed in ways that would alter the development of both sciences.
Like money, military aid in men was an 'investment', albeit on a national scale and for diplomatic rather than financial returns. The King must have determined even before this meeting started that he was potentially willing to support Sylviane and bump heads with the pretender, Duke Gabriel's backers -- the Knights Templar and the Papal Inquisition. But first he had to establish his confidence in the venture through knowledge of Pascal's strategic mind, in both military and civilian affairs.


Now, with his assessment satisfactory, he had no intention to look ungracious in the eyes of the world. This meant that Sylviane's initiative to join Operation Winter Typhoon weeks ago would soon pay its dividends.


The only question that remained was 'how much'.


<nowiki>----- * * * -----</nowiki>
Clearing his throat, Pascal decided he might as well play along and dance to the King's tune:


"One company of the Knights Phantom."


This time it was the Leopold's turn to look astonished.


The first day had proved uneventful, as the Knights Phantom rode over a thousand kilopaces to reach their planned campsite -- a natural spring deep inside one of the many forests that covered the Rhin-Lotharingie landscape. But on the second day, as Kaede continuously updated the Vintersvend Expedition Map, she would notice the first obstacle to their plans.
"That's it?"


Just fifty kilopaces ahead was the expedition's first staging point. But instead of unmarked ruins atop a barren hill, Kaede's magical map marked the target coordinates as the ''de Villars encampment''.
"I would ask for two, but I doubt you will allow me that."


Her first reaction was to double-check the location with Pascal. They were correct.
"Of course not."


...Which meant they had a problem.
It almost sounded as though the King was toying with his subject. But behind his swift reply came a tilted frown and a pained look in his gaze.


"<u>There must be at least five hundred troops if the map could detect and mistake it for a large village,</u>" Kaede noted based on her past observation, when she had compared a scan of Nordkreuz's surroundings to the local maps.
"After the Skagen campaign and the Air Battle of Nordkreuz, I have less than five hundred Phantoms left, and that's including every graduating cadet for this year ''and'' the next."


"<u>The encampment is not named by unit designation either, which means that it is probably a patchwork force -- some hastily assembled group named after its commander</u>," Pascal surmised. "<u>Good chance they are here on orders from that pretender Gabriel, since he's the one having difficulty making the various formations obey him.</u>"
''That's only about three full-strength companies...''


"<u>You're right,</u>" Sylviane agreed. "<u>A regional lord would send a full unit, not a hodgepodge that doesn't even have a battalion name.</u>" Then, with rising concern: "<u>But that would mean he anticipated me coming this way.</u>"
The victory Weichsel achieved over the Grand Duchy of Skagen in this short war would cripple the naval and colonial power for years if not decades to come. But in doing so, they had incurred heavy losses of their own, especially among the aristocratic cavalry corps that was difficult to replenish.


The Princess left unsaid that hundreds more men could lay waiting in ambush just ahead.
"I was expecting that you would ask for more than just Phantoms."


"<u>He could also be covering all the likely routes,</u>" added Hans Ostergalen after Pascal weaved the intelligence analyst into the telepathy web. "<u>Duke Gabriel's leading commander is Count van Coehoorn, a defensive theoretician who pays great attention to detail even in his everyday life. My guess is that he probably has all the likely routes covered. But Gabriel's main force -- his loyal troops from Fryslân -- would probably be kept as a reserve. Given his precarious hold on power, I doubt he'll deploy it until he ascertains Your Highness' intentions.</u>"
Pascal shook his head at the King's presumption:


"<u>So you think this is just a screening force then?</u>" Sylviane inquired.
"We plan to head south first. This means bypassing much of Rhin-Lotharingie without drawing attention to ourselves, especially in the northeastern Fryslân region where Gabriel wields a dominating influence. Only the Knights Phantom can manage such a journey fast enough."


"<u>More like a picket: to deter if you're few in numbers, to raise alarms if you come in force,</u>" Hans replied. "<u>Gabriel's first priority must be to locate your whereabouts now that we've left Nordkreuz.</u>"
"It would also be damaging for my image if we brought too many Weichsel soldiers," Sylviane interjected into the conversation between liege and vassal at last. "Hence quality over quantity is our best option."


"<u>In either case, we should know in a moment when Reynald gives me an update,</u>" Pascal spoke of the redheaded ''Winterslayer'', who scouted ahead of the main formation with three of his men.
The King looked down in deep thought. One-third of his remaining Knights Phantom was hardly a cheap price. But...


"You shall have it," his firm reply set the deal in stone. "I'll give you Walther's ''Falcon Force'' company, plus all the surviving elements of Erwin's ''Ghost Riders'' and anyone you could recruit in time to replenish it. But in return," King Leopold dangled the strings attached with an open smile, "I want you to fund Erwin von Hammerstein in building at least three new Phantom companies."


...
Pascal gave a faint cringe at that. The specialized equipment and high-quality armaments of the Knights Phantom made them ''very expensive'' units. Recruiting from the middle-class yeomanry rather than the aristocracy, it would fall upon him to subsidize the costs that they couldn't afford.


"The Grenadiers Phantom are accepted then?"


"<u>Reynald estimates the camp to be around six hundred men,</u>" Pascal passed the word several minutes later. "<u>The soldiers are also constructing wooden cabins, so they seem to be assigned here as a long-term picket.</u>"
The King nodded:


Only the aristocratic elite -- or at least wealthy cavalrymen -- could afford the comfort of expandable cabins during a campaign. The average commoner had to suffer a miserable tent.
"They've certainly proven their worth in the Air Battle of Nordkreuz, so much that I plan to elevate all of survivors from the ''Ghost Riders'' to full Knight Phantom status. The nobles in the current Knights Phantom won't like it; but we must recruit more men from somewhere, as we've all seen just how much of a difference the Phantoms make. The Imperials seem set for an eventual intervention in this war between Rhin-Lotharingie and the Caliphate, and Weichsel could hardly stand by when that occurs."


"<u>Much shorter once they pass word to Alis Avern that we came through,</u>" Colonel von Mackensen warned. His words followed closely by Hans:
The Knights Phantom were more than just an elite unit. They represented the dominance of Weichsel cavalry in the air, and the battlefield strength of air power could not be understated.


"<u>And the next stone circle isn't for another twelve-hundred kilopaces, assuming Gabriel didn't picket that one as well.</u>"
But perhaps even more importantly, the expansion of Weichsel's air forces showed just how much King Leopold had been alarmed by the recent events. As far as he was concerned, the coup in Rhin-Lotharingie was a conclusive sign that the Pope -- Weichsel's longtime ally -- could no longer be depended upon to check the ambitions of the Holy Imperium.


"<u>You are suggesting that we annihilate them?</u>"
Hence even before the current war against Skagen drew to a close, the country was already gearing up for an even greater conflict.


Pascal sounded wary as he spoke. But the Colonel? His voice held only stern determination, as though the enemy was just another faceless foe instead of the Princess' own countrymen in a civil war:
"I understand and agree, Your Majesty," Pascal confirmed his end of the bargain. Then regrettably: "although it will be a shame to leave Colonel von Hammerstein behind."


"<u>We should wait until past midnight before assaulting their camp. With our firepower, we shall overrun them before they even get a ''Farspeak'' link online.</u>"
The King almost snorted at that.


"<u>Sylv?</u>" Pascal called out to his fiancée, who had remained speechless for the past minute.
"You only say that because you haven't known him long enough or realize the amount of trouble he'll eventually make for you! During the War of Imperial Succession, your father couldn't even ''find'' the man and his unit half the time! Since he only answers ''Farspeak'' calls when he feels like it, rascal that he is!"


"<u>Sorry...</u>" came a sheepish reply. "<u>I'm trying to remember... I feel like I've ''met'' a Major from the de Villars family before.</u>"
"Nevertheless, he is still one of the best tacticians we have," Pascal stood his ground.


For several moments the telepathy chatroom fell silent. Then, it was Lady Mari who spoke:
"Of course, but he's also a hero to the commons and a lion to fresh recruits," the King highlighted the importance of this reassignment. "Don't worry. His second-in-command might be a novice, but she's still a Manteuffel and they're as determined as they come!"


"<u>Lady Lynette de Villars. Your Highness attended her marriage ceremony three years ago.</u>"
The young lord couldn't help smile at his own memories of Ariadne: "that she is, Your Majesty."


"<u>She's a Brython from Ceredigion then?</u>" Sylviane noted her name.
"In addition to the Knights, I'll give you the 36th Logistical Company," King Leopold added. "Operation White Typhoon taught us that we need logistical units that could keep up with just the Phantoms, and they're among the first to receive some training for it."


"<u>Yes. I believe Your Highness had asked her why she decided to marry a nobleman from across the country, and she replied that she was 'tired of Ceredigion pretending it wasn't part of the Rhin-Lotharingie Empire'.</u>"
Pascal hadn't expected that as he blinked back. A full logistical company could carry enough to supply two combat companies for extended operations in the field. Just how much supplies did the King expect him to bring?


Kaede almost snorted. Even without being an island nation like Great Britain, the Kingdom of Ceredigion seemed to stay aloof of its obligations to the greater union; its leaders would feign detachment from the Rhin-Lotharingie collective whenever it benefited them.
"Your Majesty?"


"<u>Why would somebody like that bow to a pretender from Fryslân,</u>" Hans puzzled out loud.
"In for a pfennig, in for a mark," the King beamed towards the Princess. "You said too many Weichsel troops would be a liability, but surely that doesn't speak for the weapons themselves. During the Rhin-Lotharingie Independence War, we became the arsenal of your freedom, supplying the Coalition with arms and armor against the Imperial oppressors."


"<u>Because Gabriel commands the authority of the capital at Alis Avern,</u>" Sir Robert pitched in. "<u>Just because someone is loyal to the country doesn't mean they are loyal to a specific crown.</u>"
The Princess' eyes almost glistened with appreciation as King Leopold resurrected the century-old bonds between the two nations. As a major steel-producer, Weichsel was known for its blacksmithing industry. Without them and the millions of high-quality, armor-piercing bodkin arrowheads and artillery bolts they supplied, it was debatable if Rhin-Lotharingie could have ever thrown off the Imperial yoke.


"<u>Then, it's clear... Pascal, what do you think?</u>"
"I see no reason why we cannot do so again, now that our joint faith is threatened by the corruption of greed within and besieged by the violence of infidels outside," he spat in contempt. "Weichsel has long stood as the 'Northern March of the Trinitian Realm', the bastion of true belief. We are more than ready to serve as the ''Arsenal of the Holy Father'' as well!"


The Princess somehow expected her fiancé to know her plans for the next step, which he did:
Emotions stirred as the King declared his adamant faith, pledging his commitment to support the Holy War.


"<u>It will be risky.</u>"
Riding upon this cresting wave of enthusiasm, Leopold soon turned towards his Landgrave once more:


Yet his tone of confidence seemed the exact opposite, as though he was encouraging her on.
"So what do you need?"


"<u>Nothing ventured, nothing gained,</u>" Sylviane seemed to take a deep breathe as she spoke to herself. "<u>I have to start somewhere.</u>"
It took Pascal several moments of quiet contemplation. But in the end, he settled on one item with all conviction:


Before anyone could object, the Princess raised her voice to the crowd:
"One hundred Weichsel 150-millipace tandem-charge mortars, with no less than thirty rounds each."


"All knights! Form up! And follow me!"
It was enough to outfit two artillery battalions, and that was just to start.




Line 261: Line 311:




Lynette stared at the mossy granite of the stone circle as she sat outside her expanding cabin. For a noblewoman from Ceredigion, this was probably the least impressive stone circle she had seen. The formation was little more than a ring of two dozen jagged, uneven rocks, reaching up to between knee to chest height.
"ummm... Pascal?"
 
It was late that night when Kaede knocked at her master's door.
 
Pascal was still wearing his undershirt when he opened the thick mahogany door to the main residence.
 
She averted her gaze in an instant. It had been hard enough just to work up the nerves to knock on the door. To look him in the eyes as she asked the humiliating question would be outright impossible.
 
But as a flushed-red Kaede was still trying to build up enough courage, Pascal took her hand and pulled her inside first:
 
"Good timing Kaede. I need to show you something."
 
He led her over to a dresser by the corner. Sitting atop the intricately-carved table was an item she would never expect most men to own: a rosewood jewelry box, complete with gold trim and magical enchantments.
 
"W-why do you have..."
 
"I am a gem magic user, remember?" Pascal reminded her with an ecstatic smile, as though he was about to show her one of his heirloom treasures.
 
"Runic Magic values stones with crystal lattice structures, especially non-metallic elements, because they can retain the most ether with the least amount of diffusion over time. High quality gemstones offer some of the most perfect crystal lattices found in nature. So for us, they are not just decorations of beauty but valuable tools for sorcery. Gem magic users like myself take this into an art form by maximizing the compression of ether inside the most flawless of gemstones."
 
Pascal opened the box's lid to reveal dozens of glittering gemstones filed neatly in rows. At the center of attention was an oval intense-green diamond of at least a hundred carats, with worth easily in the tens of millions had it been auctioned on Earth; perhaps even more, as a mysterious radiance seemed to emanate from within the diamond itself -- sparkles of turquoise light flowing across its perfect luster from the high compression of infused ether inside.
 
With her magic sensitivity trained up over the past few weeks, Kaede felt her gaze sucked in by the sheer brilliance of the intense ether concentration; the cascading light of her master's ether no less, which seemed to call out to her through its very glow.
 
Her eyes had grown so mesmerized that Pascal had to shake her out of it.
 
"I know girls are always entranced by beauty, but you seem to have forgotten yourself completely."
 
"It's not the gems, it's the ether," Kaede rubbed her eyes. "There must be some kind of resonance effect since I'm your familiar."
 
Pascal's thoughtful expression revealed that he hadn't considered such an effect, but he wasn't surprised by it either.
 
"Besides," she scowled at him. "I'm not exactly a girl."
 
''Only biologically, and that's your fault.''
 
"But you are so cute as one!" he happily announced, almost prompting Kaede to punch him.
 
"Anyways!" she rushed to switch the topic. "You were concerned over finances when we first came back, but you never considered selling this?"
 
Pascal pursed his lips as he stared back inside:
 
"There is something like a third of my life's ether in there. Just that diamond alone probably contains enough magical power to blow up a town if I pour a cascading explosive spell into it. Of course I cannot sell these!"
 
Now that he brought it up, Kaede did remember the many hours Pascal spent infusing one gemstone or another back at the academy. She had always thought he was creating more magical items, like the turquoise casting ring she wore which could replicate several basic spells. The box itself had probably been hidden away in his extra-dimensional storage.
 
"Besides, I will likely need them in Rhin-Lotharingie," he finished, his eyes glazed with sentiment as they stared at the precious stones that he spent years collecting.
 
"Has anyone ever accused you of having an obsession with shiny rocks?"
 
"Do not remind me about it," Pascal grunted in displeasure. "There was one time when Sylv thought I was ignoring her as I finished my daily infusion process. She threatened to make an engagement ring out of that diamond, enchanted so only she could take it off my finger."
 
"Pfffttt!"
 
Kaede barely kept herself from breaking down in laughter as the image of Pascal forced to wear an oversized diamond every day passed through her thoughts.
 
Unable to suppress her obvious glee, she attracted a piercing glare from Pascal.
 
"Oh do not worry, you have yours coming," he spoke ominously as his fingers reached inside the box.
 
They returned seconds later, fingertips carefully holding two drop earrings: each an array of five tiny rose-quartz arranged around a diamond like flower petals, with three thin strands of white gold dangling one more gemstone each.
 
Seeing those brought an instant end to Kaede's lingering humor.
 
"You're kidding me!"
 
"Not at all," came Pascal's turn to smirk. "I spent a good number of hours enchanting them so I expect you to wear them. Brings out the color in your eyes too."
 
"You want me to ''punch holes'' in my ears?" she cast back an outraged glare.


But in the end, size didn't matter, only the function it served.
The mere thought of marking her skin offended Kaede to the point that tattoos in the old world outright disgusted her.  


The stone circles had many nicknames: faerie rings, Tylwyth crossroads, Sidhe pathways, et cetera. They were ruins of a bygone era, infrastructure built by an ancient race. The era recorded by the Book of Invasions had long past. The Faerie Lords had returned to their otherworld realm, but the legacy they left behind would linger on.
She had forgiven him for the runes on her arms thanks to their utility. Though to be fair, she had never minded the look of other girls wearing cute earrings.


Nor were the stones mere decoration. They were built according to the ley-lines: some at major junctions, now enveloped in cities and citadels; others at mystical locations of exceptional magical power, sacred to followers of the Old Faiths. The one she guarded lay at an unusual intersection -- an outbound fork in the local ley-line.
''...But still!''


Their purpose? Transit hubs to an ancient magic, an art lost to most.
"Parizfal had told me that you accumulated quite some hearing damage during the Battle of Nordkapp from those ''Firemist Ignition'' explosions," Pascal explained as his countenance fell serious. "Your hearing is far too acute to not protect it. These are actually enchanted to further enhance your hearing, but at the same time protect your ears from sound bursts and air pressure shocks."


Most, but not all.
Kaede sighed as she pouted, puffing out her cheeks.


''A faekissed Princess of the Empire,'' Lynette thought to herself. ''A true scion of the Otherworld.''
He was right in that her ears needed some protection. Given how useful her familiar-boosted hearing had been on multiple occasions, she certainly couldn't wear enchanted earmuffs or something that would impede sound waves. Ear clips always held a chance of falling off, and male ear piercings were even more intrusive.


The late emperor Geoffroi had married the daughter of some obscure Count, so it had gone unnoticed by most. Yet through her, the royal line of House de Gaetane acquired the lingering bloodlines of the ancient Sidhe.
"Furthermore, they allow you to receive ''Farspeak'' communication spells and will attempt to auto-translate Brython, one of the three official languages in Rhin-Lotharingie," Pascal finished the feature list. "Both of those may prove useful in the future, since the familiar telepathy does have range limits and I cannot speak Brython myself."


The Princess? She was an Autumnborn. They tended to favor acumen, though not as logical as their cold and stoic winter brethren. They also leaned towards envy, though never as passionate as their summer kin.
It was a nice and handy set of utility function, as communication failures were easily the worst impediment while operating in foreign lands.


...And most famous of all, they had awful, terrible springtime allergies that even magic failed to suppress. If memories served, the Princess looked downright miserable during the outdoor ceremony of Lynette's traditional Ceredigion wedding, in May.
''But still...''


''I really should have noticed back then.''
"Couldn't you have at least picked something simple?"


But Lynette didn't. She didn't realize Sylviane's lineage until fresh orders arrived from Alis Avern. Why else would the new, self-proclaimed emperor want her to camp atop ancient ruins that only the Faekissed could still activate?
Pascal beamed with mischievousness once more:


A paid genealogist took less than an hour to ascertain her thoughts.
"If you are going to wear something most of the time, might as well make it beautiful--"


Lynette was raised under the cross. She upheld the Holy Father just like most of modern Ceredigion. But within their hearts and memories, there would always be a soft spot for the Old Faiths and the ancient Faerie Lords.
This time Kaede did punch him in the gut, though her attempt to hold back at the last second meant it had struck with almost no strength.


It was an odd tradition. The Sidhe -- or 'Tylwyth', as they were called in the Brython language -- were anything but just. The Seelie Court proved impulsive and chaotic, while the Unseelie Court stood callous and demanding. The Faerie Lords were legendary in many aspects, but being good rulers was not one of them.
Pascal raised an eyebrow as he rubbed where her fist had landed.


It certainly didn't help that they occasionally kidnapped human children to be raised among their own kind, leaving behind a changeling surprise for the poor mothers.
"That was adorable."


Nevertheless, the common peasant would be ecstatic to have an empress of Sidhe blood, however diluted it became after countless generations. But Lynette was the educated daughter of an Count; she had to ask herself the important question first:
"Don't make me reenact our first morning," Kaede snarled back at his teasing smile.


''Would a Faekissed -- an immature, twenty-year-old at that -- truly be good for the present dilemmas facing Rhin-Lotharingie?''
But thanks to her wispy voice, even that must have sounded cute as Pascal lit a wide grin:


Gabriel might be a pretender, but he was also shrewd and cunning. His charisma had seduced even the Papal Inquisition, whose templar forces he threw into the grinder like pawns. Even his organizational prowess had proved itself in seizing the crown, as nobody in Alis Avern had even realized before he dealt the fatal blow.
"Ask Marina to help you with those earrings. If you are worried about the piercing, ask Lady Mari -- Sylv always praises her embroidery for being extremely precise."


A pretender who could best an emperor monikered 'the Great'. Perhaps he really was the Holy Father's gift in Rhin-Lotharingie's hour of greatest need.
Kaede was still fuming when Pascal handed her a small velvet box with the earrings inside.


''But if that's the case, then why is he just sitting there!? Why isn't he heading south, toward the front lines that pushes ever closer to my homeland?''
"By the way, what did you need me for?"


Lynette still had her fists clenched when the encampment's northeastern sentry called out:
She had almost forgotten thanks to all his distractions. But since they were planning to depart Nordkreuz for Rhin-Lotharingie tomorrow and she ''really'' couldn't afford any more sleepless nights...


"INCOMING AIRBORNE FORMATION!"
Kaede then remembered just exactly what she had come here to ask. Her eyes glanced towards her thin, fidgeting legs in their pure-white stockings as a fiery crimson blazed across her cheeks.


Then, fear pierced the warning tone as the cry turned shrill.
"Let me sleep in your bed tonight."


"PHANTOMS!!!"
It had been scarcely a whisper, nearly inaudible even to herself.


Weichsel might be a nominal ally of the Empire now, but no veteran would forget the terror that struck deep into Rhin-Lotharingie during the War of Imperial Succession ten years ago.
"Uhhh... sorry? I could not hear that."


...Especially not when Knights Phantom dove down from the clouds behind the white-blue flames of an Oriflamme Paladin. Leading the charge was Crown Princess Sylviane and her armigers, the ''crème de la crème'' of Rhin-Lotharingie's knights.
Kaede could feel her shoulders quaking. With embarrassed tears in her shut eyes she almost cried out:


Lynette could feel her nape hairs stand up in cold sweat as she pulled her shield and flail off her armored back.
"Please let me sleep in your bed tonight!"


"FORM UP! AIR DEFENSE!"
A second passed in the silence that ensued, followed by another.


She had no air cavalry, no rangers, only archers led by a handful of her own armigers.
By the time a fearful Kaede opened her glazed eyes to look up, she found Pascal's jaw hanging open as rounded eyes gawked back at her.


She had accepted this mission because she had no intention of defying the capital. But now, she wasn't sure it was the right choice.
"W-what... I mean, I am not really against it, but..."


Against an Oriflamme and over a hundred Phantoms, her men didn't stand a chance.
Ever since coming to Hyperion, Kaede had demanded her own bed. Yet just a week after she finally had the leisure of using her own private bedroom, she was requesting to sleep in his once more.


But to her dying moment, Lynette would never be as surprised as when the burning chevron that soared straight towards her -- a scalpel about to take the head of the commander -- shot back up in an acrobatic loop before braking to a hover above the camp.
It was apparently beyond his comprehension.


"SOLDIERS OF RHIN-LOTHARINGIE!" came the Princess' magically amplified shout.
"I c-can't sleep!"  


Hundreds of bows rose. Countless arrows were ready to fire. But the ''Cerulean Princess'' paid them no attention as she address the camp with all the authority of a true sovereign.
Kaede felt so humiliated that she wanted to cry.


She did not yell following those opening words. She did not bellow for attention or gesture with melodramatic theatrics. Instead, her magnified voice began slow, calm, and methodical; even as it rang with the confidence of the Holy Father himself:
"Ever since we came back... even when the herbal tea helped me fall asleep early, I'd still have nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night and then I can't fall asleep until it's almost morning!" the torrent of words rushed out. "It's been driving me mad and I don't even know why only except that I slept fine with you! And..."


"I ''am'' Crown Princess Sylviane Etiennette de Gaetane. But I come to you today, not as an aspirant for the throne, or royalty demanding of your obedience, or even a commandant calling upon your service. I stand before you, as a woman of the Lotharin plains, a daughter of her forests, a comrade to all who stand shoulder to shoulder on the front lines of our faith, and most of all -- a ''paladin'' sworn to uphold her duty to kingdom, empire, and the Holy Father."
With an exasperated sigh, Pascal stepped in and wrapped both of his arms around her thin shoulders, hugging her closely.


The entire camp had fallen to an eerie silence. Even the birds of the nearby woods fell quiet, their attention enthralled by the burning figure in the skies.
"It is alright. You can sleep here..."


"Even as I speak before you now, the evil hordes of Cataliya advances through our countryside," Princess Sylviane then made the first gesture, her finger pointed sharply to the southwest as she gradually built up her tone. "Those slaves of corrupt tyrants from the demon-tainted continent know no honor, no faith. They were trained from boyhood to obey, to submit as blindly to their immoral masters as they do to their false god. They follow orders without question -- whether they be to pillage the homes of our countrymen; to slit the throats of our sons and ravish the innocence of our daughters; even to desecrate the holiness of our faith and the grace of our Lord and Savior who died for the world's sins."
Pulling away just enough to make eye contact, Pascal stroked her long, silky hair as he made an expression that seemed halfway between the adoration and helplessness, between 'I promised to take care of you' and 'just what am I going to do with you'.


Lynette had yet to hear any tales of atrocities from the south. Unlike her simple-minded soldiers, she would not be so easily agitated by such an eloquent canvas of blood and debauchery.
"Sylv is not going to like this," he warned. "I think she can understand, and I hope she will agree to look the other way. But even then she is not going to approve and you had best be prepared."


But Her Highness did prove a point: the Cataliyan Ghulams were raised as slave-soldiers before given their freedom upon entering the professional ranks. These were men who knew no fear and harbored no ethics. Under a chivalrous lord, they might maintain discipline and stay their hand. But it would take only one order, one sinful moment of man, before the tears of women and the blood of men ran a new river to the sea.
Kaede bit down on her lip as she nodded.


Unfortunately, humans sinned aplenty, especially among the infamous decadence of the south.
She knew the consequences. It was a shame to rock the relationship so soon after the Princess grew kind to her.


Without independence, without both military power and legal authority, the various Lotharin cultures would have no way to defend themselves. They would be just another subjugated people, prostrated before the whims of foreign foes.
But she couldn't think of any other way. After all, she could hardly spend every afternoon sleeping once they embark on the campaign. With an average of three to four hours of sleep per night, it would not take long before she collapsed from mental if not physical exhaustion.


"The Caliphate comes with chains and yokes to enslave our society, our culture, our faith." The Princess then closed a fist before her chest: "Our nation sits upon the brink of disaster. Our land calls for our every aid! ''Tens of thousands'' have answered! Yet even as they drench the fields in foreign blood, the armies of this so-called 'Khalifa' continue to struggle, to advance, to threaten our families, our lands, our way of life! In this struggle for the very existence of our identity, we must ''unite'', to turn and face our common foe! Not to squabble among ourselves for crowns and power and gold!"
"Sorry," she apologized to him in advance.


From the corner of her eyes, Lynette could see that all but a small fraction of her soldiers had completely forgotten about their weapons; their bows now hung loosely to one side as their spellbound stares transfixed themselves upon the Oriflamme Princess. Many, like her, even nodded along in agreement, embers of patriotic zeal burning within their eyes.
Another sigh emerged as the atmosphere fell into uncomfortable silence, before an odd chuckle from Pascal soon broke the lull:


In the span of just moments, the charisma of this twenty-year-old girl had enraptured the thoughts of several hundred men.
"Forget just Sylv, are you trying to kill me with temptation?"


"It is for this reason that I come before you," Her Highness continued on, her rising fervor working itself up into a shout once more. "Our ally, King Leopold of Weichsel, warden of the Trinitian March, has pledged his support in the name of the Holy Father! His first wave of men and supplies ride with me, to reinforce our southern lines which so desperately need all aid! We come before you for passage, to gate south for the salvation of our realm! I care not for whom your loyalties are sworn to. But ''if you have any pride left as a protector of Rhin-Lotharingie, YOU WILL STAY OUT OF OUR WAY!''"
Kaede almost yelped as Pascal's quick tug pulled her onto the bedcovers. For a second her eyes snapped up in fear. But the turquoise gaze that shone back at her were still soft and caring.


For a brief second, Lynette felt the air knocked out of her breathe as the intensity of the Princess' final words struck home. To notice her own swelling hopes and unmasked guilt, to realize that her command was on the brink of mutiny, to visualize the crowning halo of light surrounding that burning-blue hair...  
"Stop worrying so much. You know I would never do anything to you without consent."


The floating figure before them no longer seemed a mere girl who happened to draw the straw of royalty.
''He always did have the oddest way of trying to cheer others up.''


''She is an Empress in the making.''
Kaede knew most men had standards and expectations. She knew that she wasn't being fair to him. Yet at the same time, the alternative seemed unfathomable.


On that day, Lieutenant-Colonel Lynette de Villars became the first Rhin-Lotharingie commander who swore an oath of fealty beneath the banner of Crown Princess Sylviane.
Leaning in without doubt as she took comfort in his words, she could only offer one voice in response:


She was joined soon after, by all six-hundred-and-forty-three of her men.
"Sorry."




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Revision as of 13:49, 6 April 2017

Chapter 5 - Arsenal of Faith

"It is finished!"

Sylviane breathed out those exhausted words as she released the tension from her sore limbs, leaving Hauteclaire in control of the flight magic keeping them aloft.

The Weichsel main force had caught up to the retreating Skagen army this morning. The moment Pascal received the news at Nordkreuz, Sylviane had Sir Robert rush them up through a chain of teleportation jumps. It was vital for the representatives of Rhin-Lotharingie -- herself and her Oriflamme Armigers -- to fight alongside their Weichsel allies as much and as visibly as possible in this campaign. Because soon enough, she would need all the help she could muster from them in exchange.

Her father had taught her long ago that when it came to the lives of nation-states, there was no such thing as 'free goodwill'.

Everything had a price, paid in gold, in influence, or in blood.

Well, gold did not grow on trees but through the sweat and toil of her people, and she had no intention for Weichsel to dominate the future politics of Rhin-Lotharingie. This left her only one option.

Royal blood might seem an expensive commodity, but her body could certainly spare a few drops.

The battle had seemed simple on paper. The Weichsel army led by King Leopold von Drachenlanzen had numbered 48,000, more than twice the numerical strength of their foes. Furthermore the Skagen Army of the Home Isles, lead by the half-brother of Admiral Winter, Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen, had been stripped of its mobile striking power in the decisive Air Battle of Nordkreuz. With supplies cut off and morale sapped by constant raids from Weichsel cavalry, the 20,000 strong Skagen force had been battered and exhausted.

But the Northmen were a tough people bred by the harshness of the arctic gales. Cornered by their Trinitian adversaries, they had fought on like wounded beasts.

Thrice the dreaded Housecarls and Västergötland Adventurers charged the Weichsel lines, their final assault lead by Jarl Sigmundsen himself. Through the smoke of hellish rimefire, the ferocious Skagen onslaught almost broke the Weichsel center. But King Leopold had stuck his courtblade into the ground in defiance, allowing no retreat for either the men or himself. His courageous rally, assisted by a searing countercharge from the Oriflamme Princess, had bought enough time for General von Blumenthal's right wing to pivot around the Skagen flank and smash into them from behind.

With their path of retreat cut off, the ensuing bloodbath had become a massacre.

From her vantage point in the air, Sylviane estimated that at least a third of the Skagen force -- around seven thousand -- had been wiped out, their blood dyeing the fields of wintry slush in crimson death. After morale disintegrated and the commanding Jarls fell alongside their Housecarl bodyguards, the less trained militia had surrendered in droves. Only a few small detachments had managed to break out and escape.

The defeat was more than crushing for the Northmen. Their Army of the Home Isles had been destroyed, annihilated. After the loss of Nordkapp, the sinking of their skywhale flotilla, and the burning of their beached North Sea Fleet, this fourth hammer blow would surely put an end to northern resolve.

At least, that was what Sylviane hoped. She needed the military support of her Weichsel allies for the war in Rhin-Lotharingie, and this could only be accomplished once hostilities in the north came to an end.

"Your Highness!" the petite Elspeth flew up from near the ground, her caramel-whipped hair billowing in the icy, blood-scented breeze.

It always struck Sylviane as unnatural how such a cute girl could seem so comfortable on the battlefield. Elspeth's leather brigandine was smothered in blood by all the faces her short blades had gouged this fight. Yet the young girl was... grinning; her large, apple-green eyes marked not by fatigue but the dancing lights of exultation.

"Your Highness!" her bubbly voice repeated. "They've captured Jarl Eyvindur Sigmundsen!"

Sylviane furrowed her brows as her pupils dilated in surprise. That can't be possible! There was no way a Northmen commander of his ranking would even contemplate surrender!

"Someone must've bonked his head unconscious in the melee," Elspeth explained. "But I just saw the Weichsens carrying him off on a stretcher!"

"Then Weichsel has a serious chance of negotiating a swift end to this conflict," the Princess truly believed this time. "Any idea how many other Jarls they've found or caught thus far?"

"They've already counted three dead and one other captured, also injured," the reply came from Sir Robert this time, who had linked back into the communication loop.

The Grand Jarldom of Skagen had only eight Jarls on Fimbulmark Isle. It also bore remembrance that the Northmen leadership marched to war in generations, with their brothers, sons, and even grandsons following close behind. After such devastating losses among their upper nobility, it was impossible to think that they could continue this war.

"Then let's pray for the best," the Princess spoke to the distant horizon.

She would have a voice in the negotiations of course, bearing the royal authority of Rhin-Lotharingie. But it would be Weichsel who made any territorial demands. Her home country was far too distracted to integrate any newly conquered lands.

In either case, time to call Pascal up.

Her fiancé had been furious when she denied him the opportunity to join the battle. Her excuse was that teleporting an extra always cost more, and Sir Robert needed every ounce of ether he could spare for the battle itself. But in reality? She just wanted him to stay out of the fray this time. Unlike during Operation Winter Typhoon, this was an orthodox battle for which the King already had a plan, as well as the generals to carry it out.

Besides, Pascal is no great fighter unless he breaks into his jewelry box, and I'd rather he save that for later...


----- * * * -----


Kaede's trip up the next day took a series of four teleportation jumps that left her almost ready to vomit. It certainly didn't help that her meager hours of sleep last night further added to her sleep deprivation. The transit spells then hurled her senses through a repeated cycle of physical sublimation and being flushed down an ethereal whirlpool, which gave a whole new meaning to the concept of 'travel sickness'.

I am never going to get used to that...

"Good Morn... Kaede are you alright?"

Kaede's pale cheeks sucked in deep breaths of cold, icy air, and Princess who had been awaiting their arrival stepped up to hold the smaller girl's shoulders.

"Yeah, just... give me a moment."

The familiar girl sighed as she felt the soothing warmth of Hauteclaire's aura engulf her once more. Her whispers of thanks to the phoenix came answered by a sympathetic chirp.

"You really did not have to come outside to greet us," Pascal smiled as he took the Princess' hand and gave it a formal kiss before clasping it between his palms.

They were in the presence of Weichsel soldiers guarding the beacon, after all.

"I could use some fresh air from the negotiations earlier and you could use an escort; it seemed a good deal."

Kaede had to hide her grin as the Princess struggled to maintain eye contact. Even for the sake of appearances, Sylviane would never openly admit that she had been waiting just to see him earlier.


...


"Is there a need to section the camp off like this?" Kaede asked a few minutes later when guards at yet another checkpoint waved them through.

It felt as if the army was multi-national, with each group having its own partition inside the overall camp. Compared to open-ground bases that promoted camaraderie, all the fences and sentries in this massive encampment felt stifling.

"The term is 'compartmentalization'," Pascal looked back to explain. "It enhances security and limits the chaos inflicted by surprise attacks. With all the illusion, teleportation, and alchemical transmutation spells we have available, just how hard do you think it would be to insert a strike team of infiltrators and saboteurs?"

One of the key tactics of military special operations was 'Insertion', where a small number of elite troops would infiltrate hostile lines to destroy high value targets and/or sow confusion before a major assault. The availability of magic added a whole new dimension into this realm of asymmetric warfare, as commandos could literally appear out of thin air to wreak havoc upon a military base.

"Couldn't they just ward this place in the same fashion as castles? I mean there are thousands of mages in this army."

"--And each with a finite reserve of ether that they need to perform other tasks, including fighting," Pascal noted the opportunity costs. "Remember that exposed ether slowly degrade and diffuse their energy back into mana? The magical requirements to keep large-scale wards and barriers continuously running grows astronomical over time. Castles and cities are built over ley-lines where they may benefit from a Projection Focus -- have you read about those yet?"

"They're enchanted devices that uses magic from ley-lines to power wards," Kaede mustered a simple reply.

She had mostly glanced over them. For someone more interested in the far-reaching, sociological impacts of technology, she often found herself bored by the technical details of 'machinery'. To skip past the minute details to see how innovations altered civilizations and shifted cultures was far more fascinating.

"Correct," Pascal nevertheless gave her a passing grade. "Remember that natural mana, not processed ether, flow through the spiritual ley-lines that stretch across the land. Without a soul to refine it, mana lack the malleability of ether that would allow them to simply be injected into a supernatural spell effect."

In other words, Kaede summarized, you can't pour crude oil from a derrick straight into the engine and expect it to run...

"This is where the Projection Foci come in," Pascal continued on. "They are built specifically for their deployment locale, attuned to the ley-lines each taps by design. They do not refine the mana itself; instead, they harness the magical pressure of the mana stream to energize near-depleted ether cycling through wide-area spell fields."

The mental imagery that Kaede painted was a steam engine connected to a geothermal vent, using water to translate heat power into mechanical torque.

"But armies in the field have no such blessings," Sylviane hastened the conversation as they neared the destination. "Mages can either use their reserves to fortify, or bolster the army's mobility and firepower." Then, as she looked back with a grin: "Bet you can guess which choice Weichsel picks."

"Of course," the familiar girl smiled back. The Weichsel army always attacks.

Her magic sensitivity could feel the tingle of layered auras as they passed into the innermost camp. Only this small area offered a full assortment of wards that would block teleportation and detect all manners of intrusion, since it protected the single most vulnerable point of failure for a Monarchy -- the King.


...


King Leopold's expandable cabin -- or at least the outer room -- featured little more than a row of cushioned chairs and a huge desk that doubled as a map table. The only decorations were the man-sized Black Dragon Crest adorning the wall behind him, flanked by the judging stares of copied oil portraits on each side: the founding King Leopold I von Drachenlanzen, and his greatest general, the 'Commoner Marshal' Hermann von Mittermeyer.

"Pascal," the smiling figure in his adult prime looked up from a stack of parchment. "It's good seeing you again. How have you been? Brilliant work you did for our country in the Skagen campaign, and your familiar as well," he nodded towards Kaede before acknowledging the Princess.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the Landgrave stood sharp to return a knightly salute. Meanwhile Kaede followed it with one of her own, glad to skip the curtsy now that she was an 'Honorary Lieutenant' of the Weichsel army and holder of the Knight's Cross.

"I do wish I could have been here for the battle yesterday as well."

"What? Two promotions in three months is still not enough for you?" the King quipped in good humor before gesturing to the whole group. "Please, grab a seat."

"It is not about the rank, Your Majesty. It is the opportunity and experience," Pascal added as Lady Mari pulled up a chair for her mistress, prompting Kaede to follow suit. "I can learn all about command, leadership, and decision-making from books and lessons, but it is simply not the same as experiencing it in the heat of battle."

"Thanks," he muttered in surprise as Kaede offered his seat before taking her spot standing behind him.

Even I can be a good little familiar in front of your boss...

"Your insights do you merit, Pascal," the King flashed an approving grin as he leaned back with a cup of steaming coffee. "What you just spoke of is exactly why I've sent for General... Professor von Marienfeld, to immediately begin developing a course for 'Command Exercises' using this 'Tabletop Wargaming' concept that we've discussed by letter. It's still far from actual experience, but it will at least put the tactical-track cadets in the spotlight as they formulate large-scale battle plans and respond to an ever-changing battlefield."

Kaede beamed as she stole a glance at Pascal. She wasn't sure when he had began this conversation with the King, but it was always nice to see her suggestions receive adoption on a national level. The Prussian General Staff had first developed wargaming, or Kriegspiel, in the early 1800s using metal pieces and dice. But on Hyperion, the availability of magic meant they could enchant dedicated tables to automate the wargame's mechanics -- something not possible on Earth until the advent of the information age.

"Thank you for your support, Your Majesty," Pascal unfurled his own proud smile.

But before he had a chance to continue, the King snatched back the baton:

"So, I'm fairly certain I know what you came here for today. But before you speak of any adventurous fancy, I must know that you're meeting your current obligations."

King Leopold's fatherly smile faded away as his brown gaze beckoned a stern if not grim shadow.

"How is Nordkreuz doing?"

"It could have been worse, Your Majesty," Pascal sighed as though he really should have expected this conversation. "The final death toll reached just under sixteen thousand -- over one-quarter of the city's original population. Ninety percent of all structures within the city were either destroyed outright or damaged beyond repair, including all port facilities on the lake-side docks. Of the city's defenses, only Headquarters Keep and my estate survived in repairable conditions; the outer fortifications have been reduced to ruins and will need to be rebuilt entirely from scratch."

The faces within the room grew dark and darker as the Landgrave of Nordkreuz recited the aggregate numbers from his countless damage reports.

As a city that thrived on its strategic location, Nordkreuz served as both an important military staging point and the largest trade junction in Northern Hyperion. Yet now, with its fortifications gutted and its water traffic stopped, the city once known as the 'Jewel of the North' had become little more than a lakeside fishing village.

Well, perhaps not quite that disastrous, as Pascal began to list off the 'good news' next:

"But the most important factors are that one, the bulk of the city's population -- especially its richer, mercantile sector -- survived the calamity..."

It wasn't really fair that the city needed its rich more than the poor, but the world was never fair. The most essential resource for the city's reconstruction was money: coins to purchase supplies, hire engineers, and organize labor. Spare muscle always proved easier to find in the aftermath of a disaster; it was the materials and expertise that proved rare.

"--Two, the city held sufficient stocks to survive a long siege, and the bulk of our underground storage facilities survived. Thanks to General von Falkenhausen's excellent logistical preparations, the army also left enough extra winter supplies and camping equipment that Nordkreuz will have little problem providing for its own refugees."

It'll still be an unpleasant winter for them, just not a deadly one...

Without a shortage of food, water, and shelter, there would be no need for Nordkreuz's survivors to disperse into the countryside; not unless they feared a repeat of the disaster.

"--Three, our decisive victories against the Skagen forces have eliminated any major threats to the city and uplifted the morale of the populace. While there remains a great deal of sorrow, many feel that their grievances have been avenged by Your Majesty and the army."

That was an optimistic assessment, as Pascal had omitted the outcry that called for the heads of the Skagen leadership. Weichsel's own propaganda certainly didn't help, as they piled on the blame for the Northmen's 'ruthless butchering of civilians' in order to draw the spotlight away from their own defensive failures. Nevertheless, it was true that civilian confidence had largely been restored.

Shadows of smile and confidence had returned to the King's lips after Pascal presented one point after another. By now, his eyes shone with light that not only agreed and approved, but stood impressed by the young liege lord still scarce of twenty.

...And that, was when Pascal added his finishing touch:

"In light of these conditions, I have created a system to fund rapid recovery and reconstruction for the city through the open trading of investment funds. All private commerce and industry owners have been invited to publicly speak their business propositions, where they will sell a percentile share of their future establishment in exchange for cash investments necessary for rebuilding. I have also taken initiative to do the same for the housing sector and public facilities, beginning with a sizable investment from my own coffers."

For the first time, the King's eyes widened as his mouth opened in stunned silence. Then:

"You are just full of ideas, aren't you?" he chuckled with astonishment still trailing his voice.

Kaede was now grinning from ear-to-ear.

With morale boosted by the recent victories, the geo-societal conditions that once shaped Nordkreuz into the 'Jewel of the North' would inevitably bring forth its recovery. Reconstruction was synonymous to 'growth', presenting business opportunities that entrepreneurs would seize with relish.

The only limitation was the availability of funds.

The modern concept of a stock exchange had been established as early as 1600 when the Dutch funded the mercantile ventures of the East India Company, and the idea of 'investment shareholding' traces back even further to ancient times. There were signs that the Holy Imperium's commerce guilds and the Grand Republic Merchant Alliance of Samara have adopted similar practices. But this foundation of modern finance had yet to establish itself in the militant state of Weichsel.

Since their return to Nordkreuz when she heard Pascal's money concerns, Kaede had spent many hours inspiring and advising him to create a system of public investment and stock trading. Although her lack of financial knowledge left countless questions unanswered, she had no doubts that the local business and legal experts would be more than capable of filling in the blanks once the idea took hold.

"How are the local merchants and craftsmen liking it?"

The young lord shrugged as he answered his sovereign:

"Mixed, as with any new idea. Some think it is brilliant, some approach tentatively, and some reject it outright, fearing it will rob them of their business' freedom. Overall, the younger generations are more optimistic towards the concept than the older, more established. The guilds are also afraid that it will destabilize the hierarchy; so I had told them that if they want to retain control the market, invest, because Nordkreuz will rise from the ashes -- with or without them," Pascal finished with a satisfied smirk.

"Ha-!"

The King had almost burst out laughing. Mirth filled his eyes as his lips and shoulders continued to shake in suppressed glee.

"I'll have to ask the good Cardinal to stay an eye on this project and keep me informed," King Leopold chuckled again before taking another drink of his coffee. "If this works, we'll need to consider expanding to the other cities."

"It will not be easy to achieve this under normal conditions, since any established guild will feel threatened by their loss of market control," Pascal added.

"Well, I'm sure Lisbeth will convince them somehow; she's a resourceful woman."

Leopold closed the topic as though he knew exactly what kind of underhanded if not illegal methods Cardinal-Chancellor Lisbeth von Lanckoroński utilized to make ends meet, which left Pascal frowning with concern.

"You are your father's son, Pascal. I could not have asked for a more confident report of Nordkreuz's situation in light of recent events," he nodded with an approving grin. "Thus... onto the main topic then! How many troops do you want?"

The Landgrave blinked back in surprise, as did Kaede and the Princess. None of them had expected the King to be this straightforward, or agree so readily.

"I haven't said 'yes' yet," King Leopold raised a finger as though he read their minds. "But Weichsel certainly owes Princess Sylviane for our swift victory in the Skagen campaign. It is only natural that we support her rightful claim to the throne of Rhin-Lotharingie in return."

So everything till now hadn't just been a report, but a test as well, Kaede surmised.

Like money, military aid in men was an 'investment', albeit on a national scale and for diplomatic rather than financial returns. The King must have determined even before this meeting started that he was potentially willing to support Sylviane and bump heads with the pretender, Duke Gabriel's backers -- the Knights Templar and the Papal Inquisition. But first he had to establish his confidence in the venture through knowledge of Pascal's strategic mind, in both military and civilian affairs.

Now, with his assessment satisfactory, he had no intention to look ungracious in the eyes of the world. This meant that Sylviane's initiative to join Operation Winter Typhoon weeks ago would soon pay its dividends.

The only question that remained was 'how much'.

Clearing his throat, Pascal decided he might as well play along and dance to the King's tune:

"One company of the Knights Phantom."

This time it was the Leopold's turn to look astonished.

"That's it?"

"I would ask for two, but I doubt you will allow me that."

"Of course not."

It almost sounded as though the King was toying with his subject. But behind his swift reply came a tilted frown and a pained look in his gaze.

"After the Skagen campaign and the Air Battle of Nordkreuz, I have less than five hundred Phantoms left, and that's including every graduating cadet for this year and the next."

That's only about three full-strength companies...

The victory Weichsel achieved over the Grand Duchy of Skagen in this short war would cripple the naval and colonial power for years if not decades to come. But in doing so, they had incurred heavy losses of their own, especially among the aristocratic cavalry corps that was difficult to replenish.

"I was expecting that you would ask for more than just Phantoms."

Pascal shook his head at the King's presumption:

"We plan to head south first. This means bypassing much of Rhin-Lotharingie without drawing attention to ourselves, especially in the northeastern Fryslân region where Gabriel wields a dominating influence. Only the Knights Phantom can manage such a journey fast enough."

"It would also be damaging for my image if we brought too many Weichsel soldiers," Sylviane interjected into the conversation between liege and vassal at last. "Hence quality over quantity is our best option."

The King looked down in deep thought. One-third of his remaining Knights Phantom was hardly a cheap price. But...

"You shall have it," his firm reply set the deal in stone. "I'll give you Walther's Falcon Force company, plus all the surviving elements of Erwin's Ghost Riders and anyone you could recruit in time to replenish it. But in return," King Leopold dangled the strings attached with an open smile, "I want you to fund Erwin von Hammerstein in building at least three new Phantom companies."

Pascal gave a faint cringe at that. The specialized equipment and high-quality armaments of the Knights Phantom made them very expensive units. Recruiting from the middle-class yeomanry rather than the aristocracy, it would fall upon him to subsidize the costs that they couldn't afford.

"The Grenadiers Phantom are accepted then?"

The King nodded:

"They've certainly proven their worth in the Air Battle of Nordkreuz, so much that I plan to elevate all of survivors from the Ghost Riders to full Knight Phantom status. The nobles in the current Knights Phantom won't like it; but we must recruit more men from somewhere, as we've all seen just how much of a difference the Phantoms make. The Imperials seem set for an eventual intervention in this war between Rhin-Lotharingie and the Caliphate, and Weichsel could hardly stand by when that occurs."

The Knights Phantom were more than just an elite unit. They represented the dominance of Weichsel cavalry in the air, and the battlefield strength of air power could not be understated.

But perhaps even more importantly, the expansion of Weichsel's air forces showed just how much King Leopold had been alarmed by the recent events. As far as he was concerned, the coup in Rhin-Lotharingie was a conclusive sign that the Pope -- Weichsel's longtime ally -- could no longer be depended upon to check the ambitions of the Holy Imperium.

Hence even before the current war against Skagen drew to a close, the country was already gearing up for an even greater conflict.

"I understand and agree, Your Majesty," Pascal confirmed his end of the bargain. Then regrettably: "although it will be a shame to leave Colonel von Hammerstein behind."

The King almost snorted at that.

"You only say that because you haven't known him long enough or realize the amount of trouble he'll eventually make for you! During the War of Imperial Succession, your father couldn't even find the man and his unit half the time! Since he only answers Farspeak calls when he feels like it, rascal that he is!"

"Nevertheless, he is still one of the best tacticians we have," Pascal stood his ground.

"Of course, but he's also a hero to the commons and a lion to fresh recruits," the King highlighted the importance of this reassignment. "Don't worry. His second-in-command might be a novice, but she's still a Manteuffel and they're as determined as they come!"

The young lord couldn't help smile at his own memories of Ariadne: "that she is, Your Majesty."

"In addition to the Knights, I'll give you the 36th Logistical Company," King Leopold added. "Operation White Typhoon taught us that we need logistical units that could keep up with just the Phantoms, and they're among the first to receive some training for it."

Pascal hadn't expected that as he blinked back. A full logistical company could carry enough to supply two combat companies for extended operations in the field. Just how much supplies did the King expect him to bring?

"Your Majesty?"

"In for a pfennig, in for a mark," the King beamed towards the Princess. "You said too many Weichsel troops would be a liability, but surely that doesn't speak for the weapons themselves. During the Rhin-Lotharingie Independence War, we became the arsenal of your freedom, supplying the Coalition with arms and armor against the Imperial oppressors."

The Princess' eyes almost glistened with appreciation as King Leopold resurrected the century-old bonds between the two nations. As a major steel-producer, Weichsel was known for its blacksmithing industry. Without them and the millions of high-quality, armor-piercing bodkin arrowheads and artillery bolts they supplied, it was debatable if Rhin-Lotharingie could have ever thrown off the Imperial yoke.

"I see no reason why we cannot do so again, now that our joint faith is threatened by the corruption of greed within and besieged by the violence of infidels outside," he spat in contempt. "Weichsel has long stood as the 'Northern March of the Trinitian Realm', the bastion of true belief. We are more than ready to serve as the Arsenal of the Holy Father as well!"

Emotions stirred as the King declared his adamant faith, pledging his commitment to support the Holy War.

Riding upon this cresting wave of enthusiasm, Leopold soon turned towards his Landgrave once more:

"So what do you need?"

It took Pascal several moments of quiet contemplation. But in the end, he settled on one item with all conviction:

"One hundred Weichsel 150-millipace tandem-charge mortars, with no less than thirty rounds each."

It was enough to outfit two artillery battalions, and that was just to start.


----- * * * -----


"ummm... Pascal?"

It was late that night when Kaede knocked at her master's door.

Pascal was still wearing his undershirt when he opened the thick mahogany door to the main residence.

She averted her gaze in an instant. It had been hard enough just to work up the nerves to knock on the door. To look him in the eyes as she asked the humiliating question would be outright impossible.

But as a flushed-red Kaede was still trying to build up enough courage, Pascal took her hand and pulled her inside first:

"Good timing Kaede. I need to show you something."

He led her over to a dresser by the corner. Sitting atop the intricately-carved table was an item she would never expect most men to own: a rosewood jewelry box, complete with gold trim and magical enchantments.

"W-why do you have..."

"I am a gem magic user, remember?" Pascal reminded her with an ecstatic smile, as though he was about to show her one of his heirloom treasures.

"Runic Magic values stones with crystal lattice structures, especially non-metallic elements, because they can retain the most ether with the least amount of diffusion over time. High quality gemstones offer some of the most perfect crystal lattices found in nature. So for us, they are not just decorations of beauty but valuable tools for sorcery. Gem magic users like myself take this into an art form by maximizing the compression of ether inside the most flawless of gemstones."

Pascal opened the box's lid to reveal dozens of glittering gemstones filed neatly in rows. At the center of attention was an oval intense-green diamond of at least a hundred carats, with worth easily in the tens of millions had it been auctioned on Earth; perhaps even more, as a mysterious radiance seemed to emanate from within the diamond itself -- sparkles of turquoise light flowing across its perfect luster from the high compression of infused ether inside.

With her magic sensitivity trained up over the past few weeks, Kaede felt her gaze sucked in by the sheer brilliance of the intense ether concentration; the cascading light of her master's ether no less, which seemed to call out to her through its very glow.

Her eyes had grown so mesmerized that Pascal had to shake her out of it.

"I know girls are always entranced by beauty, but you seem to have forgotten yourself completely."

"It's not the gems, it's the ether," Kaede rubbed her eyes. "There must be some kind of resonance effect since I'm your familiar."

Pascal's thoughtful expression revealed that he hadn't considered such an effect, but he wasn't surprised by it either.

"Besides," she scowled at him. "I'm not exactly a girl."

Only biologically, and that's your fault.

"But you are so cute as one!" he happily announced, almost prompting Kaede to punch him.

"Anyways!" she rushed to switch the topic. "You were concerned over finances when we first came back, but you never considered selling this?"

Pascal pursed his lips as he stared back inside:

"There is something like a third of my life's ether in there. Just that diamond alone probably contains enough magical power to blow up a town if I pour a cascading explosive spell into it. Of course I cannot sell these!"

Now that he brought it up, Kaede did remember the many hours Pascal spent infusing one gemstone or another back at the academy. She had always thought he was creating more magical items, like the turquoise casting ring she wore which could replicate several basic spells. The box itself had probably been hidden away in his extra-dimensional storage.

"Besides, I will likely need them in Rhin-Lotharingie," he finished, his eyes glazed with sentiment as they stared at the precious stones that he spent years collecting.

"Has anyone ever accused you of having an obsession with shiny rocks?"

"Do not remind me about it," Pascal grunted in displeasure. "There was one time when Sylv thought I was ignoring her as I finished my daily infusion process. She threatened to make an engagement ring out of that diamond, enchanted so only she could take it off my finger."

"Pfffttt!"

Kaede barely kept herself from breaking down in laughter as the image of Pascal forced to wear an oversized diamond every day passed through her thoughts.

Unable to suppress her obvious glee, she attracted a piercing glare from Pascal.

"Oh do not worry, you have yours coming," he spoke ominously as his fingers reached inside the box.

They returned seconds later, fingertips carefully holding two drop earrings: each an array of five tiny rose-quartz arranged around a diamond like flower petals, with three thin strands of white gold dangling one more gemstone each.

Seeing those brought an instant end to Kaede's lingering humor.

"You're kidding me!"

"Not at all," came Pascal's turn to smirk. "I spent a good number of hours enchanting them so I expect you to wear them. Brings out the color in your eyes too."

"You want me to punch holes in my ears?" she cast back an outraged glare.

The mere thought of marking her skin offended Kaede to the point that tattoos in the old world outright disgusted her.

She had forgiven him for the runes on her arms thanks to their utility. Though to be fair, she had never minded the look of other girls wearing cute earrings.

...But still!

"Parizfal had told me that you accumulated quite some hearing damage during the Battle of Nordkapp from those Firemist Ignition explosions," Pascal explained as his countenance fell serious. "Your hearing is far too acute to not protect it. These are actually enchanted to further enhance your hearing, but at the same time protect your ears from sound bursts and air pressure shocks."

Kaede sighed as she pouted, puffing out her cheeks.

He was right in that her ears needed some protection. Given how useful her familiar-boosted hearing had been on multiple occasions, she certainly couldn't wear enchanted earmuffs or something that would impede sound waves. Ear clips always held a chance of falling off, and male ear piercings were even more intrusive.

"Furthermore, they allow you to receive Farspeak communication spells and will attempt to auto-translate Brython, one of the three official languages in Rhin-Lotharingie," Pascal finished the feature list. "Both of those may prove useful in the future, since the familiar telepathy does have range limits and I cannot speak Brython myself."

It was a nice and handy set of utility function, as communication failures were easily the worst impediment while operating in foreign lands.

But still...

"Couldn't you have at least picked something simple?"

Pascal beamed with mischievousness once more:

"If you are going to wear something most of the time, might as well make it beautiful--"

This time Kaede did punch him in the gut, though her attempt to hold back at the last second meant it had struck with almost no strength.

Pascal raised an eyebrow as he rubbed where her fist had landed.

"That was adorable."

"Don't make me reenact our first morning," Kaede snarled back at his teasing smile.

But thanks to her wispy voice, even that must have sounded cute as Pascal lit a wide grin:

"Ask Marina to help you with those earrings. If you are worried about the piercing, ask Lady Mari -- Sylv always praises her embroidery for being extremely precise."

Kaede was still fuming when Pascal handed her a small velvet box with the earrings inside.

"By the way, what did you need me for?"

She had almost forgotten thanks to all his distractions. But since they were planning to depart Nordkreuz for Rhin-Lotharingie tomorrow and she really couldn't afford any more sleepless nights...

Kaede then remembered just exactly what she had come here to ask. Her eyes glanced towards her thin, fidgeting legs in their pure-white stockings as a fiery crimson blazed across her cheeks.

"Let me sleep in your bed tonight."

It had been scarcely a whisper, nearly inaudible even to herself.

"Uhhh... sorry? I could not hear that."

Kaede could feel her shoulders quaking. With embarrassed tears in her shut eyes she almost cried out:

"Please let me sleep in your bed tonight!"

A second passed in the silence that ensued, followed by another.

By the time a fearful Kaede opened her glazed eyes to look up, she found Pascal's jaw hanging open as rounded eyes gawked back at her.

"W-what... I mean, I am not really against it, but..."

Ever since coming to Hyperion, Kaede had demanded her own bed. Yet just a week after she finally had the leisure of using her own private bedroom, she was requesting to sleep in his once more.

It was apparently beyond his comprehension.

"I c-can't sleep!"

Kaede felt so humiliated that she wanted to cry.

"Ever since we came back... even when the herbal tea helped me fall asleep early, I'd still have nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night and then I can't fall asleep until it's almost morning!" the torrent of words rushed out. "It's been driving me mad and I don't even know why only except that I slept fine with you! And..."

With an exasperated sigh, Pascal stepped in and wrapped both of his arms around her thin shoulders, hugging her closely.

"It is alright. You can sleep here..."

Pulling away just enough to make eye contact, Pascal stroked her long, silky hair as he made an expression that seemed halfway between the adoration and helplessness, between 'I promised to take care of you' and 'just what am I going to do with you'.

"Sylv is not going to like this," he warned. "I think she can understand, and I hope she will agree to look the other way. But even then she is not going to approve and you had best be prepared."

Kaede bit down on her lip as she nodded.

She knew the consequences. It was a shame to rock the relationship so soon after the Princess grew kind to her.

But she couldn't think of any other way. After all, she could hardly spend every afternoon sleeping once they embark on the campaign. With an average of three to four hours of sleep per night, it would not take long before she collapsed from mental if not physical exhaustion.

"Sorry," she apologized to him in advance.

Another sigh emerged as the atmosphere fell into uncomfortable silence, before an odd chuckle from Pascal soon broke the lull:

"Forget just Sylv, are you trying to kill me with temptation?"

Kaede almost yelped as Pascal's quick tug pulled her onto the bedcovers. For a second her eyes snapped up in fear. But the turquoise gaze that shone back at her were still soft and caring.

"Stop worrying so much. You know I would never do anything to you without consent."

He always did have the oddest way of trying to cheer others up.

Kaede knew most men had standards and expectations. She knew that she wasn't being fair to him. Yet at the same time, the alternative seemed unfathomable.

Leaning in without doubt as she took comfort in his words, she could only offer one voice in response:

"Sorry."



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