Mages of Interpol 15 (Youjo Senki)

[LoreleiFlowers]

The Wide World of Magic by Hans Zimmermann - published in 1945

The world of magic is far more diverse than we often realize. While the use of computation orbs is a common practice in Europa, mages worldwide have discovered a myriad of ways to harness magic, each with its own unique charm and power.

In Europa, we tend to think of the world as something we need to impose our will upon. This is reflected in how our magical arts have developed since the Enlightenment. Our magical arts use mental incantations, called formulae, that can be made extremely efficient through the use of computation orbs, which perform the majority of the mental work on behalf of our mages.

The cultivators in Zhangzi have a very different philosophy, so their magical arts developed likewise differently but were no less advanced than our own. They see the mind and body as part of one whole and focus on making their body into a mirror of their will. They do this primarily by infusing their bodies with mana, which they call cultivating. This allows them to use their bodies instead of external foci for the spells. There is a multitude of schools in Zhangzi that each teach their own form of martial arts. These martial arts act as their version of incantations to bring forth the miracles of magic into the world.

The science of alchemy, which was banned in Europa until our more civilized era, is also a form of magic different than computation orbs. It is primarily practiced in Persia and the northern portions of the Southern Continent. With it, they have learned to create artificial magical lifeforms known as homunculi and familiars. They specialize in temporarily transmuting materials into another substance, and they have found limited ways to store objects into sigils that some alchemists wear as tattoos.

While I could go on and on about the various magics of the world, it would be a mistake not to talk about innate mages. These mages have been transformed so thoroughly that their bodies are made of magic. Like homunculi, their bodies have unique magical properties. Like cultivators, their bodies can be used as a focus for spells.

One way individuals have become innate mages is when a computation orb malfunctions, resulting in an explosion. In very few cases, individuals actually survive due to the same magic that destroyed them, regenerating them. With their whole body replaced by the magic, they have gained the ability to use the powers of a computation orb without it. Arcane scientists are not sure why they even maintain the ability to complete preset formulae contained in the computation orb that went off, but that is just proof that we still have so much to learn about magic.

With the Great War behind us, we have just started to look at the broader world of magic available to us and challenge many of our misconceptions about how magic works. Through innovation and arcane science, even older styles of magical foci have found new purpose in this more modern age. For example, new synthetic materials and knowing precisely what makes illusion magic possible have resulted in new kinds of magical scepters that are comparable to computation orbs when used for illusions. The movie industry could not be more delighted as computation orbs are incredibly expensive, so these scepters act as a much cheaper alternative.

Still, the computation orb reigns supreme in Europa. Their ability to be customized and updated with more efficient formulae for whatever spells a mage may need regularly makes them the go-to for the most dedicated of mages. They are cost-prohibitive, however. Even mono-cores will set a person back a hefty amount. Dual-cores and above often cost a fortune and are only legally obtainable by mages with proper authorization, like those in law enforcement. Tri-cores are exclusively available only to the military and require the budget of a nation to fund the creation thereof.

Now, join me as we explore the wide world of magic together.

The History of the Mages of Interpol - originally published on the 13th of March, 1976

After the Great War, chaos reigned. Military-grade computation orbs scattered loosely across battlefields went to the highest bidder among the various crime syndicates of Europa. Gangsters and fringe political movements raided entire warehouses of poorly defended armories while Germania scrambled to reorganize its government after their defeat. Many mages across the continent just desired to have a computation orb again and joined any group willing to provide them one. Conventional law enforcement stood no chance against these magical gangsters who could withstand gunfire with humiliating ease and just fly away whenever.

Out of the chaos came the International Police (Interpol), sourcing mages from across the globe to meet the moment and return the world to order. No group was more famous than the Mages of Interpol 15. While their origins are obscure, experts believe that they started as an ad hoc deputized team in Germania during that fraught period of the provisional government before the Germanian Republic emerged. When the League of Nations formed to prevent another war and handle these international criminal organizations, this Germanian group became the basis for the mage branch of Interpol.

Adding to the mystery around the Mages of Interpol 15 was the fact that two of their most famous members, including their leader, Agent Nichts, obscure their faces and are only publicly known by pseudonyms. Their members had changed multiple times over the years, but their roster when they first captured the public imagination was:

Sonnetto - an artificial humanoid with striking red eyes, white hair, and living magical tattoos that leap off her skin to form various weapons and spell effects. Records indicate she was the product of an illegal human experiment in Persia. Once rescued by the Mages of Interpol 15, she fights at their side. Her regenerative abilities make her favored for making first contact in potentially dangerous situations.

Fang Shiyu - a prodigy from Zhangzi who combines martial arts with magecraft. During the winter, his magic coats him like a second skin, so he does not need protective gear or even warm clothes. Unlike his teammates, he can quickly neutralize threats nonlethally.

Masquerade - a thespian knowledgeable in secret languages and illusions. His ability to quickly change his disguise and perform it believably makes him ideal for infiltration. Where his illusions direct civilians to safety and misdirect dangerous individuals into traps, his disguises fill the crime world with paranoia that anyone around them might just be him.

Nichts - a short Germanian who is almost always seen with a flight helmet, goggles, and coat. She has led the Mages of Interpol 15 since its inception. While she specializes in taking down powerful mages in duels, her real strength comes from her strategic mind that keeps her team in control of the situation. She is very private about her personal life and is shy around the press. The mystery around her identity and motives created a vacuum for people to impose their ideals, hopes, frustrations, and politics onto her.

---

Some Cement Warehouse in North Ildoa - 14th of January, 1950

It was a good day to be Antonio Ciancimino. He and the boys had just gotten their hands on a fresh batch of illegally tweaked civilian computation orbs to be packed in secure boxes within the cement mix so that they would be shipping all across Europa soon. One of the orbs included in the batch was a precious tri-core to be sent to the big boss. None of the local rival gangs or the police would dare mess with them either. Not with mages like Antonio and his two closest subordinates around. Once the shipment was made, they would be rolling in the cash to bring back to their families and make all their dreams come true.

"Hey, Boss," one of his goons called out. "I found this little kitten snooping around. What do you want me to do with her?"

Antonio turned his attention away from the merchandise towards this subordinate and, more importantly, the dame he dragged into the room by the wrist. She had very short hair, caramel skin, and tattoos on both of her exposed arms. More of these tattoos poked out of her collar and around her eyes. A tank top was more than an odd — scandalous evening, but a heavy cloak hid her unusual attire.

The man towered over the woman. His broad shoulders and heavy build made him an excellent brawler with or without the assistance of magic.

"So who might you be, good-looking?" the capo questioned as he held her chin to get a good look at her. Her eyes had a surprising crimson color. He had never seen red eyes like that before but had encountered weirder anomalies during the war.

The woman did not respond to his provocations.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

Again, she did not respond. Her expression seemed almost bored as if she felt absolutely no danger in the situation. Instead, her eyes took in the whole room. They gave off a faint glow when they locked onto the shipment of illicit goods. Her mouth creased ever so slightly into a smile.

"This ain't no ordinary dame. She is a mage!" Antonio attempted to shove the woman away, but before he could, a magical shield blocked him. He hopped back and clutched his orb around his neck. The capo knew that the strange woman had recorded what she saw. There were no computation orbs on her, but Antonio swore he saw her tattoo move. That was unnatural shit. That meant magic was afoot.

The woman flung off her cloak, revealing her Interpol Mage badge and modified uniform. Out of both of her arms, the officer had pulled out twin pistols made out of inky-black energy.

Sonnetto from Naze for my stories​

"You are under arrest for illegally possessing tampered mage tech," called someone from outside in a raspy Germanian accent. "Surrender now, or we will use force to neutralize you."

"Yeah, right," Antonio replied as he charged up his stolen military-grade dual-core computation orb and charged the Interpol officer with the fancy pistols. His green mage blade appeared on his right arm, promising to cut through anything it came in contact with. Thanks to his powerful mage tech, the blade he summoned was almost a meter long. "No one messes with the Ciancimino family!"

The Interpol officer wasted no time unleashing a flurry of optical formulas that bounced off harmlessly on his mage shield. Right before his blade made contact, a burst of magic launched her perpendicularly to safety. Antonio stumbled into several bags of cement. His mage blade cut several bags, sending powder everywhere and temporarily blinding him.

As Antonio spun around to charge at the waif again, he got a clear sight of what had happened in the last few moments. A tall man with black hair in an Interpol uniform dashed around Antonio's non-mage subordinates, tapping the gangsters with his hands. Whatever body party he tapped caused that body part to go limp. The capo could sense the small bursts of mana this guy was using at the end of his attacks to do whatever that paralyzing martial arts. Magic covered him like a second skin, causing the mundane bullets to just bounce off him.

"Your tricks cannot overcome the power of Ildoan engineering," Antonio raged. "Eat formula coppers!"

With that, he pulled out his machine pistol from his waistband and launched his own optical formula. One of the benefits of his model was that it let him redirect his optical formulas. No matter how many times the woman with red eyes dodged, he just changed its vector. She couldn't hurt him with her puny optical formulas, but he could hurt her. It was just a matter of time.

Then, the woman split into three. He had no time to figure out who the real one was. He picked one, and it went straight through her and hit a wall, causing his energy beam to dissipate. He could tell the illusions did not come from her. Another look around revealed a short Interpol officer with a helmet shouting in Germanian as she easily managed a two-versus-one battle against both of Antonio's mage subordinates.

"Chell, take the tri and run!"

The woman, a twenty-three-year-old mage who was like a daughter to Antonio, boosted herself towards the crate containing the very special computation orb. Don intercepted the Germanian officer but took a mage blade to the gut for his trouble. The capo mentally swore he would avenge his comrade. Chell, fortunately, did not hesitate. Activating the tri-core, she blasted her way out of the cement warehouse and into the Ildoan skyline. It would be a difficult device to manage, but flight was second nature to mages.

Before Antonio could do anything, he saw a fourth mage, a man with a colorful mask cast a spell with an old-fashioned scepter that was long enough to be a cane. Then everything went black.

It was a bad day to be Antonio Ciancimino.

---

Fang adjusted his posture to pursue the gangster who had just fled.

"Do not pursue!" his commander ordered.

Rage boiled up in the man. These were criminals. They needed to be stopped before they seriously hurt people with the dangerous weapons they trafficked in. He had trained his whole life in magical combat in his homeland. No mere gangster could stop him, Fang believed.

"Why not!"

"We do not pursue targets alone."

"I can take her."

"Fang, if you do not stand down."

Agent Nichts, as people called her, did not need to finish her sentence. They all had codenames except for Fang. Nichts was their commander, and they had to follow what the commander said. That did not stop the man from bristling.

"We don't have magic," one of the gangsters who remained standing after Fang took out the rest pleaded. You mages can't legally attack us! I know my rights!"

Nichts turned to him. "Actually, we can. Now surrender, or you will end up like your friends."

Fang did not actually like having the duty of fighting the mundies, but his nonlethal martial arts made taking down mundies easy and satisfactorily humane. His targets would stay stunned long enough to get them into cuffs and hand them off to the non-mage officers to process.

Tensions between mages and non-mages (also known as mundies) skyrocketed after the Great War, and several laws were introduced across Europa to prevent mage-on-non-mage violence. That did not mean Nichts was not right. Technically, if Interpol had reason to suspect that there was a risk that at least one suspect might have magic, a mage officer could be deployed to apprehend all of them. Additionally, the warehouse had enough computation orbs to give additional justification for not taking any chances. Honestly, they were lucky Nichts did not order blowing the whole place sky-high with an explosion formula, killing all of them. The Germanian shortstack could be brutal, but she always followed the rules to the letter.

The man surrendered, but not before crying out that Chell and the rest would get vengeance for what happened.

"I want everyone, the non-mages included, out of here," Agent Nichts commanded. Her voice betrayed not a hint of concern for the gangster mage bleeding out on the ground next to her. "It will just be me fighting the dual-core mage."

"I can help," Fang insisted. "And what happened to not fighting alone."

"That is strike two."

Fang simmered. He was very new to Interpol and had never faced off against a dual-core, but the man from Zhangzi had faith that his magical tradition could overpower the capo.

Sonnetto, the woman with red eyes, shook her head, warning him not to do what he sorely wanted to do in spite of what his female commander ordered. It was humiliating enough taking orders from her. It was another league entirely to be treated like an inferior fighter. Fang had never seen Nichts really fight a difficult opponent, but the tiny woman did not look a day over twenty-two. How strong could she possibly be compared to him, a twenty-five-year-old prodigy in his prime?

The man had heard that some European mages were older than they appeared but had never really asked. It was hard for him to believe that people other than the ancient sages of Zhangzi, who lived among their peers on the tops of mountains, had uncovered the secrets of eternal youth. For starters, the European mages didn't cultivate their magic like Fang and his master did. Cultivation was so basic to being a mage.

Remember many paths, my apprentice.

Fang banished the memory of his master back in his homeland. The crude technology of the Westerners could not hold a candle to several thousands of years of refining their cultivation arts.

Sonnetto and Fang moved the temporarily paralyzed gangsters out of the building.

The fourth member of their team, Masquerade had trapped the capo inside an illusion bubble. It could neutralize a few targets as long as they did not know what was happening. The Albishman could not keep up his bubble for long, but there was plenty of time for his teammates to get everyone out of the way for the fight between Nichts and the capo.

"Release him!" Nichts ordered from within the warehouse. The masked mage deactivated his spell, causing his eyes to return to their normal green color.

There was a loud crack as the fighting started, and then silence.

---

"You are the Devil, the…the Devil of the Rhine. Goddess, save me!"

"Don't bother praying. Nobody's listening, and you don't want their help, even if they are. Trust me."

My Ildoan was not that great, but I did my best. The man must have recognized my magical signature because my face was barely visible with my helmet and flight goggles. It was not too uncommon to encounter a war vet during these stings. With power came both the means and opportunity to exploit it. All mages needed was a reason to justify turning to crime. Since the Great War was the first major conflict to really deploy computation orbs to such a degree, the various powers did not have a robust plan to prevent misappropriation and theft of the devices after the war. A lot of military-grade orbs had slipped into the hands of organized crime.

I sighed as I watched the man nursing a broken leg. I could have done much worse.

His dual-core resided safely in my possession after I stunned him with pain and tore it off him. I had a dual-core, too, and my optical formulas could easily pierce his bubble when I attacked him from an unexpected angle.

Masquerade's illusion bubble had served not only as a miniature prison but also as the perfect trick to get the element of surprise on more capable mages like Antonio Ciancimino. I had read this guy's file before this sting operation. He was dangerous, and I was taking no unnecessary risks with my personnel. The fact he recognized me meant he had encountered me and my battalion during the war and lived.

The gangster happened to be facing away from me when he popped out of the bubble. He wouldn't normally move right away as he reoriented himself, making the sneak attack even easier to land, as had happened in this case. None of us war vets trained for Albish theater tricks. The idea of implementing them on a battlefield was as ludicrous as it was impractical, but in these dueling situations, they were one of my trump cards to win against these fools who didn't adapt to changing times and circumstances.

I just came in from behind him at max speed, bypassed his barrier with an interference formula, snapped his leg, and took hold of his orb. It took no more than two seconds. He didn't have a chance. My mental acceleration spells made these kinds of complex maneuvers child's play.

After giving the all-clear, the mundane Interpol agents rushed in to take the capo and the computation orbs. We still had a mage on the loose, but with a tri-core, she could have already been a kilometer or two away at this point. I did not know how fast the newbie Fang was, but I doubted even he could outpace the new tri-cores. Each synchronized core in a computation orb exponentially increased the power and number of spells a mage could deploy. Fang was capable, but he lacked experience with European magic. It would look terrible if the newbie died on his first mission with me. Until I got him up to snuff, he could handle the non-mages.

As for the mafia mage I had killed, these things happened. It was hard to take out a mage without killing them. The guy had basically thrown himself onto my mage blade in order to make an exit for the other mage. It didn't make sense, but two lives had taught me how irrational people could be. The paperwork explaining what had happened would be a pain, but no one would blink an eye at the casualty. If the gangster hadn't been a mage, then I would be in deep trouble.

Fang, Sonnetto, and Masquerade stood outside, monitoring the surroundings.

"Okay, you three, we are headed back to HQ."

I gave the man from Zhangzi a look, and he swallowed his words. He might not know which sport the three-strike system came from, but the idea must have been self-explanatory. It was a shame that baseball was not that big in Europa.

Sonnetto nodded and headed to the car. We could fly back, but the trauma of the Great War made doing such for routine travel tasteless. Masquerade took the driver's seat, Fang the passenger, and the woman with red eyes and I sat in the back.

I pulled off my helmet and flight goggles and safely deactivated my personal dual-core Type 99 given to me by the Germanian government for use as an Interpol agent. When you were fighting military-grade computation orbs, you needed to fight fire with fire. Mages are hard to train, and I made it clear time and time again to the higher-ups that I am not sending a mage in with effectively a civilian orb to fight anything like what we had during the Great War. That was suicide.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail with a hair tie I had in my pocket. My long golden curls would have gotten in the way in a fight, and when I finally had an easy excuse in this life to have long hair, I was going to have long hair. I liked long hair, unlike Sonnetto, who had a pixie cut.

Pixie…how I still hated that word.

My helmet and goggles helped keep my identity a secret when out on jobs. I had even abandoned my old White Silver moniker for Nichts to further distance myself from my old self. It meant "nothing," so hopefully, people should think there was nothing to investigate.

Okay…I admit I was bad at names, but at least I wasn't as bad as Being X. Some of the names in this world were just silly.

Anyways, the fewer people who tied "short, blonde female Interpol agent" to the "Devil of the Rhine," the better. Elya was busy enough as is. As far as the general public was concerned, everything my troops had done during the Great War was Lergen's fault. Now, that man was writing books in some prison for the rest of his life or until Germania negotiated his release. It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair. The man knew what he was getting himself into when he led the failed peace negotiations with Ildoa all those years ago. Just like I knew what could have happened when I told—

Sonetto tapped my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she signed once she had my attention. "You look sad."

"Do I?"

I didn't know why I would. I would smile, but people told me to do that less for some reason.

"Not anymore. Do you want to do anything tonight after work?"

We hung out after work a lot. It helped for my subordinate to have someone who could translate for her. I always had a knack for languages and picked up sign language in order to accommodate Sonnetto. We even lived together as roommates. It was just easier since neither of us had anyone else. There was nothing more to it than that. There never would be.

I kept conversation with the chatty Sonnetto for the rest of the car trip. We talked about everything, and we talked about nothing. If there is anything the guys in the front of the Interpol car didn't need to know, I would just sign back to Sonnetto. It had become a familiar rhythm for the two of us.

---

Ildoa HQ - 16th of January, 1950

Fang entered the training room with purpose. He had heard she was there, and the man was ready to give the woman a piece of his mind.

There she was with Masquerade. They had a small table between them with three cards on it.

"That one," Nichts pointed to the left one. When her finger touched it, the card fizzled out of existence.

"Correct again! I really don't know how you do it so quickly."

"Years of practice," she replied. "Your optical decoys are still much better than mine."

"Years of practice," he echoed with mirth. "It looks like we have an audience, my dear commander."

The woman turned around in her seat to look the martial artist in the eye. "What can I do for you, Mr. Fang?"

"I want to know why you keep holding me back. I can fight the mages, too."

"You aren't ready. I haven't trained you."

"I am already trained."

"Not against European mages."

"Well, no one is trained against Zhangzi mages either."

"That isn't the point."

"What is the point then?"

"Don't be so hasty to risk your life, Mr. Fang."

"You are underestimating me. You haven't even seen me fight against a mage."

Nichts turned back to her previous interlocutor. "Our game will have to continue another time."

"No problem, dear. I was about to exit stage left." Masquerade always jests and witty remarks. As he passed by Fang, the Albish man whispered into the young man's ear. "She is in a league of her own. You have been warned."

Fang blinked in confusion.

"Are you coming?" Nichts called as she made some stretches and then picked a training orb to use. Fang noticed they all had slightly different features, but he did not know what that meant yet. He moved closer.

"I will give you a test. If you pass, then you can fight up to dual-core mages one-on-one. A lot of mages these days can handle dual-cores, so it will be necessary that you know what they can do and what tactics they will employ."

"What is the test?"

"That is 'what is the test, commander' to you. Until you have some discipline, you are to address me with respect."

This stunned the man. His personal beliefs about gender bristled at this demand, but his desire to be allowed to demonstrate this ability won out.

"What is the test, commander?"

"It will be the classic of classics. All you have to do is hit me once in a spar while I am using a dual-core orb."

This will be easy. She won't even see him coming.

They took opposite sides of the training arena. A window to the hallway adjacent to the training rooms showed Sonnetto and Masquerade watching with interest.

Nichts's eyes glowed blue as she took a stance with her hands behind her back, full of obvious openings.

She is mocking me!

"Ready when—"

He ran at her. With boosted speed, it should be faster than a normal human could possibly react. He swung at her left shoulder. Fang smirked with satisfaction as he watched in slow motion, his fist inched closer and closer to its target.

Then it hit.

…hit a magical barrier.

Nichts's mouth turned upward into something that could only charitably be called a smile. His mana-infused fist should have bypassed a mage's bubble. This wasn't a bubble but a barrier focused right on the trajectory of his fist. There was no way she was keeping up with him unless—

Fang didn't get to complete that thought as she swept him off his feet with a kick. When his eyes opened, he saw her dummy mage blade phasing through his neck. Had it been real, he would have been decapitated.

"You are dead."

"You didn't say you were going to fight back."

"I don't know why you made that assumption. It is a spar. Of course, I am fighting back. Your opponents are not going to just let you keep attacking them."

She offered him a hand up, but he was not going to touch a woman. His vows forbade it outside combat, training, or an emergency. Then the blonde frowned for a moment before her eyes widened a bit.

"My apologies. I will be more considerate in the future, Mr. Fang. I just assumed since you didn't shave your head that…. Well, it doesn't matter."

Did she know of his vows? Why would shaving his head matter? Only a long-defunct school insisted their students shave their heads. How would she know about that school and not the modern and more widespread one that he was part of?

"It is understandable, commander."

He was watching her now. Her combat style reminded him of something, but he could not place it.

They retook their positions on the opposite sides of the arena.

Their audience looked amused at his expense. Well, Masquerade was mostly enjoying his humiliation. Sonnetto had only the smallest of smiles. Her emotions were far more subtle than their Albish teammate.

Fang did not understand the women on his team at all. It was like being on the opposite side of the globe had turned everything on its head as well. He saw European wedding bands on neither Sonnetto nor Nichts, suggesting neither were married. As much as he raged at Nights, she had a beautiful complexion with silver-blue eyes and long, curly, golden hair. It was like a god in heaven had sculpted her himself. She shouldn't have any shortage of suitors. Was she barren or something? What did her family think of her risking her life like this in a job like this? They must be scandalized. Was it because she constantly hid her looks in stuffy jackets and that helmet of hers when she was outdoors?

His opponent just did not make sense. Fang did not shift his analysis to Sonnetto, instead focusing on Nichts.

This time, he would not be caught off guard by her counterattack.

"Ready, Go!"

He charged at her again. Last time, she had simply tricked him. This time would be different. He felt it.

Instead of having her arms behind her back, Nichts crossed her arms in front of her. She didn't even take a combat stance. This would be too easy.

He jumped into a flying kick. He expected to hit a barrier, but instead, without moving a muscle, her body glided across the ground fast enough to dodge his kick. Spinning around, he received a dummy mage blade to his torso before he could launch a counterattack.

"Dead."

Fang's left eye twitched. He could have survived most "optical formulas" Westerners used. It was not very different from the energy beam attacks that his master used. Losing to these mage blades was just humiliating. He was the expert at close-quarters combat.

"Look at me. What was your mistake?"

He looked. She had taken his side of the arena. Her stance was the same as it had been before. Then it struck him.

"You are floating a tiny bit off the ground."

She smiled again. He shivered.

"Good observation, but what was your mistake?"

"I did not expect you to move when you did."

"You expected me to do the exact same thing as I did before. European mages have many spells in their arsenal. You cannot just assume each will use the same ones to fight you. But that is not your core mistake."

He racked his brain for what he was missing. After a few moments, Nichts sighed.

"Perhaps a few more bouts are necessary."

This time would be different. He was just so sure. He knew she would use flight spells. All it took was adjusting his strategy to account for that possibility.

"Dead."

She had stabbed him while he was thinking.

"What that isn't fair—"

"Life isn't fair. Your opponent isn't going to give you time to think."

She jumped back, only to unleash another attack. This time, she wasn't giving him the initiative.

"Dead."

He had gotten caught off guard by optical decoys.

"Dead."

She had used a point barrier to trip him.

"Dead."

She had mixed up the optical decoys by putting a bad one on herself to make her look fake while using a high-quality decoy to bait him into thinking it was really her. It was too devious.

"De—"

An alarm went off.

"Well, it looks like our training needs to come to a close, Mr. Fang. I trust you know that as per our agreement, you still don't have permission to engage with dual-core mages."

She put the training orb away, and the two ran to get equipped for whatever the situation was.

All the while, their team — Interpol 15 — got suited up, and Fang could not help but wonder where he had seen some of those martial arts techniques before.

---

Docks in Ildoa - 16th of January, 1950

Chell Bracchini and five other mages from the other branches joined her on the docks. There was Mikey, Nico, Alessandro, Andrea, and—

"What is your name again?" Chell asked the one female mage she didn't recognize. The woman had a forgettable face and no style.

"Ellie," she replied. "Luca invited me."

There were like five Lucas.

"You a mage?" Chell followed up.

"Yeppers."

Geez, I have an innocent kid in this group.

"Well, whatever. We need as many people as possible. I pulled some strings, and we got some really top-grade stuff here. Everyone take one." Chell started passing out combat rifles and dual-cores out of a safebox they kept on a small, unassuming boat. "The blue shirts killed Don and nabbed Antonio and a bunch of our siblings. They should have known better. Now I got word from the big boss himself that he wants us to teach them a lesson. Get ready. They got some weird foreign magic. Even some of that Albish stagecraft. If you see a shortstack with a helmet, she is mine. Don't even get close to her because she is the real deal. Germanian war vet through and through. The type who trains under artillery fire. She will carve through you like butter. I got the tri-core, so only I got a chance."

As her subordinates activated their orbs, Chell noticed Ellie had her hand on her ear.

"What is wrong?"

"Oh, sorry, I am not feeling well. No sea legs. I am going to hop off the boat. Let me know when we are ready to go."

"Sheesh, fine. I will have everything secure shortly."

After Ellie left, the gangster could not shake the feeling of deja vu.

Then, all of those still on the ship sensed a massive explosion formula.

"Ah shit!"

---

"Well done, Masquerade," Nichts called out, lowering her rifle slightly as she surveyed the carnage. The tri-core ascended into the sky unhurt, but only two of the dual-cores barely survived. Their magic was fading and only needed cleaning up. A grin sprouted on her face.

"Happy to perform." With a hand gesture across his face, Ellie was gone, and the Albish man was back.

Nichts nodded. "Fang and Masquerade control the parameter. Sonnetto, you have the two duals. I got the tri. Out out."

Fang sighed but got to work further securing the perimeter just in case they missed any civilians.

Glancing at his coworker, the martial artist had some contempt rise up in his throat that just had to come out. "Why did you have to disguise yourself as a woman? Does that not bring you shame?"

Masquerade began weaving a large hologram above the docks to warn all civilians that Interpol had cornered off the area. There were non-mage officers further assisting from a safe distance away.

"To answer your question," the Albish man started. "It is somewhat of a theater tradition. Long ago, women were not allowed to perform on the stage, so men had to play all their roles. Crossdressing, magically or otherwise, is still common on the stage. There isn't any shame to it.

"As for why I did it, people often underestimate and overlook women, in this case, to their demise."

Fang swiftly dashed from location to location while maintaining a communication incantation with the only other guy on the team. He had to admit Masquerade had a point. He kept underestimating Nichts, and she exploited this fact to shove his face. Her magic had all sorts of unexpected tricks. His pride and sense of superiority blinded him from being sufficiently cautious.

My master would be so disappointed with me.

A scream caught Fang's attention. He darted at superhuman speeds to the source. A stranded dock worker needed his help. The civilian said something in Ildoan that Fang could not understand.

"I help," the mage declared in his broken Ildoan. Fang offered his arms to carry the man to safety swiftly, but the dock worker went wide-eyed and pointed behind the mage.

The very air crackled with magic. It felt like the time he met one of the ancient masters who had flown down the mountain to speak with the students and give them guidance. It was like they were made out of pure magic. Fang turned around and saw what had caused this unusual reaction.

"What the—"

---

Chell climbed in the air at a rapid pace to escape the explosion.

"Shit shit shit shit!"

She turned around and prepared for combat. Her shield was at full power. It would take multiple dual-core mages to take it down. Tri-cores were so much stronger than anything she had ever used before. Magic crackled up and down her limbs as she threw every enhancement formula she knew into them.

That Interpol agent who had killed Don flew up at her at a shockingly fast speed.
"Take this, you monster!" Chell screamed, spraying magic-infused lead at the tiny officer. Her target dodged everything and just kept climbing higher into the air. Instead of flying straight at Chell, the agent was just going up.

The gangster knew that she could outpace the dual-core she sensed on the helmet-wear woman. Chell went into pursuit. This was her opportunity to get revenge for Don and the family. Despite the slower speed, the Interpol agent kept dodging.

Eventually, her gun ran out of ammo. They had gotten up really high so that they could touch the clouds. Chell knew well enough how to keep all the necessary spells to survive and fight at this height. She had fought for Ildoa against the traitorous Germanians during the war.

"Why are you running?!" the gangster screamed with a voice amplification spell and then reloaded her rifle. "You are outmatched alone."

The Interpol agent did not reply. Instead, she changed her active orb to some weird clockwork contraption. Chell could feel with her magical senses as the cores in the strange computation orb.

One.

Two.

Three. Chell broke out in a cold sweat. They were evenly matched.

Why would she bother taking me so high up if—

Chell didn't have time to complete that thought as the impossible happened. A fourth core activated. There were rumors that the Germanians had found a way to synchronize a quad-core, and many mages suspected the Devil of the Rhine was the owner of this impossibly dangerous weapon.

The air filled with unbelievable and eerie magic. The Interpol agent's helmet and goggles peeled off as magic started to transform her appearance. Three pairs of transparent, angelic wings appeared behind the blonde, now yellow-eyed, doll-like Germanian. Her hair roiled in the air and glowed like it was made of fire.

"Dear Father Joseph!"

Was this the true power of the quad-core? Was magic really a gift from God and a sign of his influence? The fact a quad-core could turn someone into was clearly an angel surely meant that the Church had spoken the truth.

Is this God punishing me for my sins?

Chell did not want to die — not like Don. She desperately unleashed the biggest explosion formula she could.

The quad-core user darted away from Chell's attack, and then the gangster sensed six explosion formulas all around her. There was only one opening to escape them before they went off. She went for it without a second thought.

A cacophony happened behind her. She did not bother looking back. Chell was happy to have gotten out of there in time.

Phew! I made—

Before she finished that thought, an optical formula punctured her shell and went straight through her abdomen.

She knew I would escape that way. Fuck. I guess…this… is…the end.

Her consciousness started to fade.

But not without….

Chell tapped her computation orb and started overloading it.

The look of fear in the eyes of that Germanian…Don would be avenged….

---

Sonnetto finished off the two straggling dual-cores. While she would have struggled if they were fresh, the woman had nothing to fear, even if she made mistakes. There was a reason why Nichts trusted her with the dangerous jobs, but regardless, it still warmed her heart every time Nichts took notice of her hard work. Only Sonnetto knew how much their Germanian commander suffered in private, in her mind. Something bad happened — several bad things probably — in Nicht's past, and Sonnetto vowed to do her best to support the blonde woman.

A massive explosion caught the white-haired Interpol agent's attention. She looked up to see her commander battling it out with the tri-core. Then another even larger explosion happened. The tri-core user had just self-detonated. Nichts got caught up in it.

Sonnetto did not hesitate. She dismissed her conjured weapons and pushed everything she had into activating the various flight spells inscribed on her skin.

Nichts was in free fall. Her oxygen, pressure, and force reduction spells appeared to still be active, but the explosion had jostled the Interpol 15's commander out of her flight spell. If Sonnetto did not get there soon, even those spells that kept Nichts alive high up in the air would peter out.

You can't die, Nichts. I owe you everything. You are my own family. Please be alright!

Right as Nichts' spells started to fade, Sonnetto caught the barely conscious small woman and, with a bit of willpower, enveloped her in her own spells.

"I got you. I got you."

Nichts…Tanya said something lost to the wind, but Sonnetto didn't need to hear her to know what her commander had said.

---

Interpol Office, South Germania, 18th of January, 1950

Fang had countless questions after what he had seen on those docks in Ildoa. Who was Nichts? What was Nichts? That magical wreath of flames he had seen on Nichts during that battle was just like the legends of those possessing the Mandate of Heaven.

The black-haired man had asked around for any information he could about her. Some told him what he already knew - Germanian, hardass, prone to going overboard, and a confirmed bachelorette. Others gave him new insights. She was a war vet from the Great War, which was over two decades ago, and possessed mage longevity like almost every veteran from that war. Her actual age was a mystery, but he did find out that her actual name was Tanya von Degurechaff. The "von" in her name indicated that she was a noble of some kind.

Fang did not know he had disrespected nobility. He counted himself lucky that he still had his head.

Over the past couple of days, his commander had trained him ruthlessly until he understood all the tricks and spells European mages might pull on him with a computation orb. Once he stopped underestimating her, the cultivator leveraged his arcane abilities to outmaneuver and overpower Nichts. It only took a second training session to land his first blow on Nichts. His celebration was short-lived because she revealed that she had only been using a mono-core training orb because, of course, she had.

"Remember I said you needed to hit me once when I was using a dual-core? Your test is not over."

It had been seven days, and he was starting to get used to dual-core's much stronger capabilities. Nichts had told him that his arcane ability put him somewhere between the strength of a dual-core and a tri-core. He was just way more dependent on training on what he was going to be fighting in order to reach his current combat potential.

All this training finally resulted in Fang coming up with a theory that explained all the oddities that made sense of his commander. Tanya von Degurechaff was really, behind her pretty exterior, a reincarnated Akinese master. The woman used karate and kendo techniques in her magical attacks that came from the Akitsuhima Dominion. She thought she could hide them, but Fang was nothing if not a battle junkie. He had fought against the other top students from Zhangzi and Akitsuhima. He knew all their techniques.

Being a reincarnated Akinese master explained how she knew about the school that sought reincarnation over eternal youth. This school believed that a virtuous life would see one born at a higher station in life. That meant Degurechaff must have been practically a saint in her last life to be born in this life with magical ability and noble status.

Only masters of this school retained the memories of their last life. Fang had ambushed Degurechaff in the breakroom and flatly asked her if she was a reincarnator in Akinese. The woman clearly understood what he had said but then pathetically pretended like she didn't. He gave her a very knowing smile that clearly indicated he wouldn't reveal her secret.

After all, why would he get in the way of a recipient of the mandate of heaven? She was destined to fight the other recipients to be ruler of the world as prophesied by the ancient masters. Her secrecy must be part of her strategy to have as much of an advantage over her opponents as possible. Fang didn't bother explaining any of this to her since she was obviously a wise Akinese master who would know all this already. She would be offended.

He couldn't wait to see those battles. They would be so awesome! Just thinking about them made him giddy. Until then, the cultivator would train under her. He didn't even care that she was a woman anymore. Masquerade had been right. She really was in a league of her own with or without her quad-core orb.

---

I sighed in resignation. Fang was such a handful. He learned so quickly that I was going to have to get creative soon on how to help him progress. I instructed him to memorize all the different computation orbs. Unlike fighting, these more intellectual tasks took him much longer as long as you did not make them a condition for another spar or seeing a new spell. If he was motivated, he would quickly finish any task.

Prodigies like this guy really made old soldiers like me feel useless. I guess this must be what it felt like being a normal violinist watching an eight-year-old play Paganini. "Soul-crushing" seemed the most apt phrase. Still, with any luck, it would be several years before they started fighting on equal terms. People called me a prodigy and an ace-of-aces, but I cheated as a reincarnator and had that cursed Type 95.

A few days ago, Fang had come up behind me in the breakroom. He had said something I think was in Japanese, but I was too busy keeping my battle instincts in check. He was lucky I didn't neuter him or worse. Then he gave me the stupidest smile I had ever seen. Was my subordinate hitting on me or something? I gave him the benefit of the doubt for being from another culture, but if he did something like that again, I was going to write him up.

I didn't want to have to get rid of the young man. I still needed to get one more mage to get our team back to full fighting strength.

Laying on my twin bed, the old photo of the 203rd I kept on the nightstand caught my attention. It was from during our time in the Russy Federation when we had thought the war would soon be over. How wrong we all were. I had even let myself hope for once. My face scrunched in some kind of emotion I refused to acknowledge. For my own sake, I laid the photo frame down. It was hard being away from them for so long. I just wished things could have been different.

Lorelei Note:
I hope you enjoyed the pilot chapter. The next chapter will go back in time to the beginning.

Thanks to DrkShdow and Mark of Artemis for betareading and giving me advice.

Thanks to MaxMarko for additional support in publishing this story.

Thanks to Naze for doing the art of Sonnetto. It was great working with them on this piece.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

On the Shores of Normandy - 20th of July, 1933
17 years before the Present

In my previous life, I had been a Salaryman living comfortably in my home country of Japan. One day, I fired someone with good cause. He then pushed me in front of a train. A being calling itself the god of my world decided to have a conversation with me. The being, whom I called Being X, did not like the job evaluation I had given him, and Being X decided to take my advice in the worst possible direction. It reincarnated me with all my memories as a little European orphan girl in a country called Germania in 1914.

History had diverged significantly from the early twentieth century, which I had known in my previous life. One major cause was that magic existed in this world. Through the use of computation orbs, even a little girl like I had become could fight on the frontlines. I had no choice but to enlist in the military if I wanted a shot at returning to a semblance of the peaceful life that my first death had taken from me.

By doing what was expected of any soldier at the level of competence and due diligence expected of any soldier, I had satisfactorily completed every mission given to me. The General Staff had even promoted me to Lieutenant Colonel. While a general or two had offered me more promotions in exchange for my participation in this or that plot (just some office politics involving attempting to overthrow the government), I stuck to this middle management role in the military. I was simply not fit for the higher echelons. Save that for the real geniuses and talented individuals.

All my hard work was for naught. The Imperial government, drunk on the victory, would never surrender. Now, we were defending a poorly constructed outpost against wave after wave of Unified States marines as they charged upon the northern shores of our occupied Francois territory. We had finally gotten a breath of relief, but our bodies refused to relax due to the anxiety and jitters. Our bodies never seemed to thoroughly shake the sense we were in imminent danger anymore.

To be fair, the enemy always did come, or the General Staff would order us to bring the fight to them before we could fully rest. We always had to find just a little bit more willpower to carry on. Many of us were sure that we had pushed ourselves too far in defending this location. I worried some of us would not wake up after we went to bed, as our hearts would call it quits. You know you have overworked your employees when their bodies call it quits on them and let them die.

"Colonel Degurechaff," someone shouted next to me, waking me temporarily from my exhausted stupor. Was there another raid from Albion or the Unified States? I hoped not. I really don't think I could make it through another. To be fair, I had felt the same thing the last three times we scrambled to intercept. My everything hurt in ways I didn't know was possible.

"Here," I rasped.

The boy, for his part, was just some fresh-faced recruit around the age of fourteen and taller than me. It wasn't that he couldn't see me, but clearly, he did not know what the rank insignias meant or thought I was wearing my very tailor-made Lieutenant Colonel uniform as some kind of joke.

Kids like him did not belong on the battlefield. He should have gone to college, gotten a degree in economics or something profitable, and gotten an excellent, respectable job.

"Sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to—"

"Out with it, Private."

"We have gotten a message from headquarters."

I waited for him to recite it or hand it over. It took him a moment, but he eventually handed over a coded message. The boy would lose that shyness if he stayed on the battlefield.

The message wasn't long, so it would be an easy job to decode. I passed it to my adjutant, Viktoriya "Visha" Ivanovna Serebryakov. Without me having to explain, she began deciphering it with our code book. I had already pretty much checked out, and she had a bit more rest than I had since I insisted on staying awake after having way too many cups of coffee. There were no hard feelings about me passing this task off to her.

Visha had served by my side since the Rhine Front and had grown into a competent subordinate. All of my subordinates had become like family to me, but in regard to my adjutant, I had also developed an unprofessional affection for her. I kept it to myself like I did many other things.

Secrets like that of my fondness for my adjutant had become my armor to protect myself from a world that would never understand me. My past life, my knowledge of what might lie in this world's future, and now that I was in an adult body once more, my orientation had to stay wrapped up in a persona I had woven of the perfect soldier. If any of these secrets were somehow uncovered, not only did I fear being sent to an asylum or being experimented upon, but the relationships I did have might fall apart. How often in my past life had I heard friendships and families torn apart the moment one confessed a secret like my useless infatuation for someone of the same sex? Not often, but the very few times it did come up, it had always been exclusively a career- and family-ending move for a colleague.

I had to ask myself: Would the 203rd remain by my side if I revealed my secrets to them? Would Visha?

"Visha?" I started, falling comfortably into my typical rasp while affecting leadership.

"Colonel?" she replied, glancing up for a moment from the code book.

"After the war, I was thinking, if you don't mind, that I would like to live with you."

Visha, for her credit, kept her composure. It was a big ask. I doubt my nest egg after the war would last very long or that my pension would be respected if we lost the war. We were most certainly going to eventually surrender at some point. Germania had been a powerhouse of a nation with a nearly unmatched industrial presence on the world stage. It took all the major powers working together to take us down. Now, my nation, like myself at this very moment, barely had an ounce of fight remaining.

My adjutant stared at me for a moment. She knew I had no biological family to fall back upon. I had grown too old to return to the orphanage, being an adult. I wouldn't have much money to buy a house. Work would be difficult even with women filling in for many of the jobs previously held by men now that so many of them had died. When I had to return my computation orb, which was painful to even think about at this point after relying upon it for so long, I would be defenseless. The post-war period would be a dangerous time, and I could think of no one else I wanted more at my side than my ever-diligent adjutant.

Visha then did something unexpected: she pulled me into a one-arm hug. For some reason, my face felt wet. It must have been raining, but I did not see any clouds.

"It is going to be okay," the Russy-born woman whispered to me. "Thank you for asking me. Of course, you can stay with my family, and I am sure everyone in the 203rd will be there for you, too."

"I am sorry." I apologized because I had gotten her uniform wet, which was inconsiderate of me. My voice had strangely gotten a warble to it.

The brunette flitted her left hand through my blonde hair. She had taken up using this calming gesture whenever my Rhine Dreams acted up or when my late puberty symptoms assailed me with aberrant moodiness. I could not quite maintain command the same way as I did before. My Vice Commander, Matheus Johann Weiss, had to step up considerably to fill in the gap when I couldn't hold it together anymore. No one questioned my leadership. I just needed time occasionally to work with Visha or one of the others to piece myself back together.

The stoic defiance here, the cold rationality there, the adherence to market principles right over there…..

It embarrassed me to have this impediment to my ability to do my job reliably.

As much as it may have been pleasant for Visha to attend to my unproductive moods, the fact that I had these unprofessional feelings for her made contact problematic for me. She did not know how I felt. Her gentleness with me was also a kind of torture in a way since I could not show anything of the self underneath.

On one hand, I needed help, and I had always trusted her with my problems. Keeping my affection a secret preserved a relationship I had grown dependent upon for stability. I did not want to become some runny-nosed teenager. I might not be able to piece myself back together if Visha abandoned me.

On the other, the affection welled up inside of me at every kind and painfully innocent touch my adjutant gave me to soothe my mind and body, which were traumatized by this war. It seemed to me that I had committed a kind of fraud upon her. How detestable I had become that I would do something like that. To make matters worse, it was not just some customer but my most trusted partner. As an aerial mage, no one has more of your trust than your wingmate — the person who flies next to you, defending your back.

"You won't have to wait for peace any longer," Visha whispered as she started rocking me gently side-to-side in her grasp.

I merely murmured in my exhausted confusion.

"The message was that the war is over. It is an order to cease fighting and surrender."

I weakly asked one of the soldiers nearby, who was just watching us curiously, to spread the word of our surrender on my behalf.

"Something still bothers me," I muttered. I was beginning to really drift off.

Visha hummed her curiosity.

"Why was the order to surrender sent with a cipher? That is so—"

I meant to say idiotic, but before I could finish my complaint, everything went black.

---

Somewhere else, somewhen else wrong.

I groaned as I rolled in my bed.

A prevailing wrongness assailed me. My morning voice was just too low. My rolling to my left side had too much weight to it. My skin felt rough and tough but without any callouses of hard labor. I even smelt wrong.

"Visha?" I called out.

There was no response. My voice still sounded way too deep, but it clearly lacked the rasp that came from barking orders for years. I reached out for my computation orb that should be at my neck and found nothing - a very wrong amount of nothing.

I lifted myself off my bed and felt dizzy as my head kept going up and up and up. I was way too tall. It was wrong. It was not me.

I felt my body frantically. Rough skin again. No chest. No softness from finally going through puberty almost anywhere. There was even the faint stubble of facial hair on my chin.

Then my eyes adjusted, and my brain woke up enough to realize where I was.

"My room? Why am—" I here.

I completed my sentence in my head. My voice, still speaking Germanian and awfully low, tore at my sense of self.

I walked over to my bathroom with my much too long stride and turned on the lights. I regretted it immediately as I saw the Salaryman staring back at me or, as I finally remembered my dead self's name, Deguchi Tenya. I could not resist punching the mirror in front of me in rage and only got a bruised hand for my trouble. I hissed as I wrung out the pain from my hand.

If you had asked me when I was still a prepubescent Tanya if I wanted to go back to being a salaryman in this life, I would have told you yes. Since then, though, I felt a certain alignment between that life and my sense of self that I never had as Deguchi Tenya. I stopped referring to Tanya's body like it was some golem that I was just controlling or using the third person in my inner monologues to refer to the child I inhabited.

Then Tanya grew up and became a woman, and it just clicked. It was like when two goods should just be sold together like a pillow and a pillowcase. Tenya just did not fit at all with who I was when compared to the adult Tanya. Finding myself in this nightmare where I was Deguchi again was a lot.

Now, I was in a male body. I didn't know how I would manage. It was not suitable for me. I had always just convinced myself that feelings were irrational and not worth exploring back then.

As Deguchi Tenya, I refused to act on any impulses that might jeopardize my career. Acting in a feminine manner would definitely do that. I think I even had a promotion on the horizon before I died, which depended on me adhering to and meeting ever higher expectations. As a teenager, my father made sure that I acted like a proper son should, and my school instructors would have promptly reported any aberrant behavior that deviated from the rules.

Ding Ding Ding

I jumped and grabbed my old razor to defend myself.

It took me several moments to realize that my old alarm had gone off. It had been nineteen years since I had heard it, so I didn't recognize it at first. It overwhelmed me to think about how I was supposed to navigate civilian life in another language and surrounded by all sorts of noises and crowds without any way to explain why I had suddenly become so different.

Finally relaxing my combat posture, I gingerly approached the beeping menace and pressed all the buttons until I found the one that stopped it. Then I collapsed in my bed. I was breaking. This wrongness that was in every fiber of this body ripped at my very sanity. I may no longer be physically tired, but I couldn't pull myself from my bed. I was like my body and mind wanted to go their separate ways as soon as possible, and it was tearing me apart.

I dived into my memories. How did I manage situations like this as Tenya? It took a while, but I finally found it deep within me.

Stop this shameful behavior at once, Tenya. You have a duty to your parents. Get up, you worthless, incompetent piece of filth. These emotions you are feeling cheapen you and shame your family. Now get up, Tenya, and be a man. Men go to work even when their body tells them to quit. They provide for their families no matter how hard it gets because someone has to do it, and they will starve if you don't. They make their parents proud, and they do what society expects of them. You are an only son. You don't have the luxury of abandoning that role.

Eventually, this voice so eerily similar to my father's pulverized my sense of self enough that I slipped into a familiar semi-existence that what my coworkers called the "heartless cyborg" behind my back.

Deguchi Tenya lifted himself out of the bed just as his alarm clock went off again. I had his hand switch it off properly this time. I had divorced myself from the pain and could think more clearly again. With all of that nonsense bothering me turned off, Tenya could do what he needed to do.

While the man went through the motions of his morning routine, I contemplated what had happened. I went through my final memories as me — that is to say, as Tanya. We had just surrendered after fighting until we could not even move a muscle anymore. Then, I had just blacked out.

Looking at his phone, the date indicated it was February 22, 2013. It was the day Deguchi Tenya had died. It was just too surreal. Everything was the same as my encyclopedic memory remembered. This was definitely my old world. I felt a muted pang of pain, knowing Visha or my other subordinates would probably not be here.

I was pretty sure this was not a dream. His hand had definitely hurt when I hit the mirror with it. Something had happened.

Tenya continued his robotic routine until he finished getting ready to head out.

I had decided to send Tenya to work despite all this sense of meaninglessness. Surprisingly, muscle memory handled most of getting me on the train to my office. He avoided talking to anyone on his way. When he reached his desk, Tenya focused on his work and merely bowed or nodded as necessary. The less he talked, the better for my ears.

However, he couldn't just rely on emailing people to get through the day. One of the tasks on his calendar was to fire someone, which would have to be in person. To make matters worse, the person in question was the person who had killed Tenya the last time I experienced this day. My last day as the man was replaying just like I vaguely remembered it going.

The day passed by with Tenya getting things done efficiently. It was like watching a video feed of the man from above his shoulder. I was just that disassociated with what was going on.

Then, the time came for me to deal with an actual person.

"Why me?!" the man, whom I was supposed to fire, bemoaned.

Tenya looked down at his file and sighed. I wasn't the same person I used to be. The war had changed how I looked at the people I had to work with. Life was awful for all of us, and we only had the brothers and sisters at our side to get through it.

"You have been absent a lot. Do you mind if I ask why?"

The man quieted down for a moment. It was not an unusual question to ask. I no longer looked down on him like a failure. I still had high standards, but I could make things work even with whatever the general staff could afford to give me. How many times had I trained fresh faces in the middle of a battle?

"What good would it do for you to know?" the man replied, calming down considerably and looking out the window.

"Maybe nothing. Maybe it will do you a lot of good. I am a problem solver. You have a problem. I want to solve it. You have served this company a long time, so it would be a shame to lose you. It takes a long time to train new employees, and they are likely to bring all sorts of new problems with them. As I see it, it would be better to solve your problem than have to train up a new employee and deal with their adjustment to our workload expectations."

He gave me a queer look, and I realized that I had pitched up Tenya's voice subconsciously. It wasn't something I had done in a long time in this life because my father sternly corrected me whenever I sounded too "gay" to him. As Tanya, I had taken a long time to not feel like using my natural pitch would constitute losing to Being X or failing my father. This employee, who had known me for a while, picked up on my new way of talking immediately.

I may have even had a Germanian accent creeping in. Maybe he thought Tenya was not taking this seriously.

Thankfully, the employee had the graciousness not to call out my new oddness.

One thing led to another in our conversation, and the employee revealed that he sometimes lacked the will to leave the house. He had no explanation for it.

"Have you thought about seeing a therapist?" I inquired. I may have avoided them in 1933, but in 2013, therapists could do a whole lot more good.

The man blinked.

"I uhh…"

I frown.

"We are both rational adults. I understand it can be tough to acknowledge something might be wrong with you. There is definitely something very wrong with me, and I am scared of it myself."

Was I, Argent Silver, being empathetic? Not really. But I could mimic it. I had seen other people do it. It was a matter of repeating the gestures and the proper types of confessions. I had no idea what it must be like not to find the will to wake up in the morning. One simply does and doesn't think about it. It was better not to think about it. Let the suit or uniform do the thinking for you.

My coworker squirmed a bit. Ah, I had been too direct and personal. The bluntness from my Germanian lifetime had shown itself.

"Deguchi-san, you seem under the weather," he responded, indirectly poking at my oddness.

I managed a smile.

"I am definitely very unwell." I gave him a lifeless chuckle. Then I closed his folder and put it away.

"Um, sir, am I still going to get fired?"

"Maybe, but not today. Go to the doctor. Work on your problem or ask for an accommodation for a disability. It is time for me to clock out anyway."

A lot went unsaid.

"Thank you, Deguchi-san. I am sorry you are not feeling well. I always thought you were uh distant, but it was like you were a completely different and surprisingly kinder man. I must ask, though: do you need help?"

"I am a different person, at least. No, I don't think you can help me."

This exchange had been terribly open by the standards of our office culture. Whatever you call this wrongness of being in a prison made of flesh robbed me of much of the care for professionalism that Deguchi Tenya had prided himself in. Too much pain to care had definitely become a theme in the last couple of years of my lived experience.

Tenya left work and headed to the train station. This time, however, no angry employee would kill him.

At least, it made sense that there would not be. I was a better read of emotions than I had been the first time I experienced this day, but slightly better than awful was still pretty bad. Focusing on competency and professionalism allowed me to cover up my critical flaw of poor emotional intelligence. This took me way too long to figure out. How many times had Rudersdorf and Uger admonished me for my poor understanding of emotions?

I sighed and watched the train approach as I stood at a very familiar spot. It was the place the employee had pushed me the first time I experienced this day.

Then time froze.

I looked around for Being X from my paralyzed posture. Like last time, I could not move or breathe, and expecting it made it no less freaky. Instead of finding an old wizard or Zeus wannabe, I saw an androgynous person in a long flowing robe reminiscent of the styles of ancient China and a silver circlet upon their head.

"Well, how was your first day back?" they inquired with a cheerful smile.

Awful, thank you.

The person blinked. "Isn't this what you wanted? Back to this life where you had a peaceful, comfortable existence. The previous owner of these worlds was very cruel to you, but you never did sincerely worship him, meaning I won our bet. Now, I am in charge of these worlds, and I have sent you back here with your old life intact because it felt like the right thing to do. I may be a hands-off collector, but it was the least I could do after watching episodes from your life."

It is hard to explain.

Their left hand glided across their circlet for a moment. Their face went through several expressions.

"Oh, um, that explains a lot. I didn't actually know. I thought this would be another Job story. You know I can give you the full Job reward for also winning the bet. All the riches you could want. I can even give you a new body with good health and that mage longevity your previous owner gave you and the others. It is hard to pass up eternal youth for working out your problems. Trust me. It might be hard to explain at first, but people will just think it is a weird genetic variation. I think that will help set things right for my conscience."

They, like Being X, were not all-knowing, but they clearly had scanned my memory somehow without a single hint of remorse for violating my privacy.

It would have been nice to live in comfort without this wrongness plaguing me, but something would still be off in that scenario.

Visha's face flashed in my mind.

It was irrational. It was terrible for my future prospects. I shouldn't do it.

I want to go back, I thought to him.

Those eyes of theirs kept pitying me.

"I am so sorry you went through all this. But are you sure? It won't be easy in that world. I like to keep my hands off and just watch. Me coming into one of my marbles is rare. Marbles is how I refer to these customizable universes to those inside them since things are quite different outside of them. Anyway, sometimes I don't even touch my marbles for two or three eons before gambling them in a new game with another collector. I promise you I won't be bothering with these marbles until I have to refresh them again after they go cold and practically still."

I am sure.

"I won't leave you to that world without giving you something at least. My gift to you is that the next person you speak to will understand you completely. This will only work once, so don't waste it. You can thank me later. Though knowing you, you probably won't."

This feels very insulting. People understand what I mean when—

With that, they walked behind me and just pushed. Time unfroze, and the last thing I saw was the train.

---

Somewhere else, somewhen else right.

I groaned. I heard my voice again with all its rough huskiness, but it was at least not too masculine. I was just the right kind of morning voice deepness.

"Tanya!"

"Not so loud, Lieutenant Serebryakov." The admonishment came out weakly. I felt so hungry that I could have eaten my shirt, which would have been wrong because it belonged to the military. I was still responsible for it and did not want to deal with the paperwork to get a new one. I could already imagine their reaction to my explanation of what happened to my old shirt.

My eyes opened and slowly adjusted to the midday sunlight seeping in through the fabric of the tent I was in. I found myself in a cot with medical supplies but no other patients. I must have fallen asleep out of exhaustion. Feeling for my computation orb out of instinct, it was missing again.

"Sorry, we had to return them as part of our conditional surrender," she told me.

I couldn't be distraught. Being stuck to the ground would be pretty frustrating, but at least she was down here, too.

"Visha," I started softly, looking at the tent's ceiling. If there was going to be a future for us, I wanted to start with the truth. You have been working above expectations for a long time."

Visha passed me some skinned apple slices. Warmth spread to my heart as I realized she had copied what I had done for her when she had gotten injured. After a few bites and some more water, I formulated what I would say next. My adjutant also handed me some K-brot. It might not be a shirt, but I was sure K-brot tasted worse than one.

An odd magic tickled at my throat. It must be that marble collector's spell at work.

The brunette at my side must have seen my stress and held my hand to steady my nerves.

"I wanted to tell you that I want to continue being by your side after the war. I think I mentioned that before, but I wanted to be a bit more direct. You see, I have come to the realization rather recently that I really need you. I am not one for flowery speeches, so you have to forgive me. You know what I am trying to say?"

I felt the magic in my throat dissipated as it did whatever that being — let's call them Being Y for consistency — had intended.

Her grip on my hand tightened suddenly. Her eyes went wide for some reason. Did she understand? That would save me having to say that word.

"No, I don't," Visha replied flatly.

Well, that is what I get for trusting another god-wannabe who thinks of me as his property.

"I mean, I care about you."

"We all care about you too."

"I mean, I appreciate you."

"We all appreciate you too."

Was my adjutant always this dense? I was tiptoeing around the word, but she had always seemed to me to intuit my desires without me having to say anything. Did she have to make me spell it out?

At this point, Visha had let go of my hand. She started fidgeting for some reason. I could not read her expression, but it wasn't a smile.

"I really don't want to say it, especially here where people can overhear," I continued.

"So don't. You don't have to say any of this."

I stared at her, looking for meaning in her features, but found none.

"I—" I began.

Then she raised her hand to halt me.

"We don't feel the same way," she replied.

Oh…

"Then that is all there is to it," I concluded.

I tried. What else was I supposed to do? Sometimes it is like this. What it meant to be an adult meant accepting reality. How many times had I gotten my superiors to swallow the bitter pill of truth? Now, it was simply my turn.

"Should I stay?" Visha asked with an odd inflection I couldn't place. Her words were polite, but they lacked something they had before.

"No, you are dismissed, Lieutenant."

She hesitated for a few moments before exiting through the tent flap. What a fine mess I found myself in.

The K-brot had gotten crushed in my hand, and I released its crumbles upon my chest. Let this be my heart. Who needed it? I stared up at the top of the tent again from my cot. There must have been a leak in the roof because water lined my face. Even though I could not find any holes up there, the water could not have come from the perfect soldier. She didn't have feelings. She was a heartless cyborg, after all.

Lorelei Note:
This was the original first chapter of the story. When I wrote it, I was struggling with a lot of unrequited love and funneled that into my writing. I think I am a lot like other writers who work out their stress in their creative endeavors.

One of my beta readers told me they were surprised that Tanya got rejected given my work with MaxMarko on Young Woman's Love and War. I don't think of myself as a shipper as much as a person who tries to make up for the lack of characters I could relate to in fiction as a child by making my own stories. That being said, Tanya is her own character even if I can empathize with her.

I would have published this way sooner, but things happened in my life. It didn't help that someone told me this was terrible. After recovering from an emotional slump, I shared this story with other writers and Tanya fans. They really liked it, and that encouraged me to finally publish.

Thanks to DrkShdow and The_White Silver for beta reading.

Thanks to MaxMarko for additional support.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Last Time on Mages of Interpol:
Fang Shiyu has his first mission as a member of the illustrious Mages of Interpol 15 (MI15); however, his hot-headedness and prejudices cause him to balk at the orders from the team's leader, Agent Nichts (aka Tanya). It was good that Fang was a quick learner and Tanya was an experienced commander because MI15 soon found themselves pulled into another confrontation against dangerous mafiosos.

During that battle, Tanya revealed that her Type-95 caused an angelic transformation. Agent Fang saw this and assumed that Tanya had a Mandate of Heaven, among other things. Curious to know more about her, he investigated Agent Nichts and found something that indicated her name was Tanya von Degurechaff.

Now MI15 has gone to the Berun Office where Tanya hoped to be quickly in and out to file some reports, but fate placed a case in Berun that Tanya cannot ignore.

---

Somewhere, Berun - 15th of January, 1950

Dr. Figmund Sreud watched the grandfather clock in his old office. It was in the same place it had always been. It still worked after all these years.

Soon, he would make his next move, but the time was not yet right. He was still missing something. Some real muscle to pull off his plan. He had a dozen or so mages under him, but none of them really stood out as particularly powerful. Careful preparation and patience would be the critical difference this time.

This time, he would not fail.

Without anything better to do but wait, he decided to turn on his old 1930s radio.

The grainy voice of a news anchor filled the room.

"In today's news, the Germania Parliament resumed session after protests outside yesterday had interrupted proceedings. A controversial new bill declaring Germania an Empire once again and reinstating the Kaiser as the head of state snuck through the Bundestag, shocking party leaders on every side and sparking the protests that ground Parliament to a halt.

"Several members of parliament have already come out ahead of the vote to indicate that they will never allow the Imperial Restoration Act through when it comes up for vote officially on the 29th, yet the public remains unconvinced due to the surprise passage of the bill in the lower house. Several countries have already accused Germania of wanting to reclaim their glory days and fight round two of the Great War. Despite this, sentiment across Germania has remained committed to the doctrine of peace through international cooperation, as demonstrated by Germania's heavy investment of personnel and resources to Interpol to handle the threat of terrorist and crime groups that still possess stolen Imperial mage technology.

"Many Germanians in Berun still remember when the terrorist organization known as the Kaiser's Men attempted to prevent the ratification of the Constitution of the Germanian Republic through a violent coup led by disgruntled veteran mages. At this moment, there is no evidence that anyone in the Bundestag or Reichstag has ties to the presumed defunct terrorist group. This is little consolation as the many members of Kaiser's Men kept their allegiance to their movement completely secret from even their loved ones.

"In other news, Interpol mages arrested Antonio Ciancimino of the Ciancimino Cement Mixing company yesterday under charges of illegal possession of tampered mage tech and the intent to smuggle the military-grade computation orbs internationally. This is what Interpol had to say."

Then, the anchor's voice fell away to reporters on the scene.

"Mrs., what happened today?" one reporter inquired.

"I cannot talk about an ongoing investigation," a raspy voice replied.

Figmund furrowed his brow. That voice was familiar.

"The Ciancimino family has promised to fight the charges. What do you have to say about that?"

"It is not my job to handle prosecution. I have no comment."

He was sure he knew the woman was not answering questions. He just could not place her voice to a face in his memory quite yet.

"Mrs. Nichts, the deputy minister, has accused Interpol mages of violently accosting yet another innocent mage just doing his job. He also claims that your mages injured non-mages during the arrest. Do you care to comment?"

"I assure you that we have followed every protocol and regulation to the letter, and we took precautions to minimize the threat to non-mages during the raid of the warehouse." The Interpol agent clearly seemed annoyed that she had to answer questions.

Sreud had not yet placed the voice, but he knew who Nichts was by reputation. The public considered her one of Interpol's trump cards in capturing some of the most dangerous mages in the world. As far as he was aware, the female mage had never spoken publicly before.

"Why do the Mages of Interpol 15 wear masks and use pseudonyms, Mrs. Nichts?" asked one reporter, bringing up one of the questions on everybody's mind.

"To protect them, their family, and loved ones from being targeted by mobsters. Our jobs are dangerous, and the criminals we face are not poor, starving bread thieves or your run-of-the-mill armed thugs but mages who have the power to cause immense amounts of damage if a properly armed and trained mage isn't present to stop them. I should not have to say this, but the only people who can reasonably stop a mage is another mage. At the end of the day, we still want to live together with everyone else in peace."

The man smiled as every word just brought him closer to the conclusion that this person was not only someone he had met before but his archnemesis: Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, the person who set him on this path, the one who foiled him on his last attempt, and, most importantly, the final piece he needed for his perfect scheme to bring the glorious Empire back.

The people might not listen to him, calling him mad, but their minds were infected with the lies of foreigners who wanted to keep the Empire weak. With Degurechaff's help, they will change their minds, or Sreud will force them to change their minds.

---

Interpol Headquarters in Berun - 26th of January, 1950

The white lattice and column structure surrounding Interpol Headquarters impressed Fang. A lot of the buildings he had seen before were these concrete monstrosities. While this brutalist style had a pleasing geometry, the cultivator was decidedly exhausted with Europa's obsession with concrete. He had to wear different shoes just to adjust to the ubiquity of the stuff. It was like they were killing their land in the name of efficiency. They would end up with a cold, stony wasteland if they kept up paving over more of their countries.

Around him walked his teammates, and their leader, Nichts, took the lead as if her whole identity revolved around projecting strength in meaningless acts. Fang wished someone possessing the Mandate of Heaven would understand that one did not need to do such things. With his earlier arrogance thoroughly smashed into the ground, the man could see past her deceptively mediocre power level to the growing piece of the divine inside her. In fact, he saw seeds in all of the veterans of the Great War. Hers just happened to be much larger than any he had seen so far and had clear signs of being a Mandate.

Plus, he would have happily opened the door for the reincarnated Akinese master instead of the other way around.

There was something different today from how they usually went to work — no masks or pseudonyms. Seeing Masquerade without his mask after working with him for the last week bothered Fang. As for Nichts, he had already seen her without her signature helmet and goggles.

Then he realized he had not actually gotten their real names yet. He had always used his own after joining Interpol, though this came with countless difficulties. Germanians thought his code name was Anfang, which apparently meant beginning. He thought they were making fun of him because Nichts had made him look like a complete beginner when they first started training together. The Albish kept mispronouncing his name as fang, like the tooth of a tiger.

The inquiry of Masquerade's name got to the tip of Fang's tongue when a massive mana signature radiating down the hall stole his attention. Usually, mana signatures were only sensible by mages when someone had cast a spell, but this one oddly flowed down the hall with no discernable spell behind it. Even Nichts became clearly agitated and pulled down her fedora to obscure her face. Sonnetto grabbed Nichts hand in palpable concern. Despite this, no one ran away. They kept walking forward toward this sun-like power.

When the source came into view, Fang stared in awe. The being had red-tinged wings sprouting from their back and a golden halo. Their eyes appeared to be made of obsidian with gold forming the iris. Various golden celestial glyphs and geometric lines criss-crossed their alabaster frame. When he had a moment to see past their divine features, the cultivator could finally take them— rather her in as a whole. The person was clearly a woman with short brown hair and a side braid.

At this point, one thing was on his mind: what was her name?

"Captain Weiss," the angelic being called out to them for some reason.

Nichts, whose real name he knew was Degurechaff, averted her gaze. "Investigator Sue."

The intense aura between Degurechaff and the angelic being pushed against each other like they were having some battle. Again, no spells were even being cast. This was not what normal mages could do. In Fang's mind, they were clearly both carrying the Mandate of Heaven, even if the blonde woman had not yet permanently transformed into her empowered state. Degurechaff's insistence on pseudonyms made more sense to him now. She just did not want to tip off her opponents in the great battle to come of her true nature quite yet.

While Mandates sought each other out naturally, that did not mean they always knew what was happening. The fact Inspector Sue didn't notice the other aura was very odd. Each Mandate had a drawback, so perhaps hers blinded her magical senses or something.

It was pretty cunning of her. He wouldn't expect less of his commander and new master in magical arts.

Several other questions ran through Fang's mind. Who was Weiss? Why was Degurechaff responding to that name? He had clearly seen a picture of her with the name Tanya von Degurechaff under it when perusing her other office for clues about her. Was this another pseudonym to throw off her competition?

More importantly, the angelic being's name was Sue.

Then this Sue person excitedly started talking.

"I was wondering when you would return, Weiss. It is like you are avoiding this place. It couldn't be that you are avoiding me. We are friends after all."

"That is…just a coincidence. We have been busy at the Ildoan office."

"Tell me about it," Sue commiserated. Then she started hopping from one foot to the other. "In my case, Captain Müller has been keeping me sidetracked on countless other cases in which I cannot pursue my investigations into the Eleventh Goddess or the Devil of the Rhine. I know you don't think so, but I am certain Lergen was the fall guy in some elaborate cover-up for the Devil of the Rhine. We aren't sure, but some think the Eleventh Goddess and the Devil of the Rhine might be the same person."

Fang had no idea what the angelic woman was talking about.

"Sue, I don't have time to discuss conspiracy theories," Nichts claimed while Sonnetto held her even closer.

"But Weiss, it isn't just some conspiracy theory. A lot of historians and journalists agree with me that something is inconsistent about Lergen's testimony before the international court and the recovered Imperial records."

"I know you have a mandate to investigate this matter from the Legadonia Entente Alliance, but my friend Elya, who is your boss, mind you, has been more than forthcoming with supplying you and the Legadonians with any Imperial records they desire. That being said—"

"But this isn't just about my mandate," Sue interjected, her wings flaring and halo bursting into furious flames. "My father was killed by that whore. I have a personal—"

Sonnetto's tattoos started to coalesce into a weapon in response to Sue's outburst, but Degurechaff retook command of the situation.

"Sue, control yourself now. I don't want these random abnormalities with your mana causing someone to faint again."

The angelic being went wide-eyed and then started frantically trying to put out the flame on her halo.

"Ouch. I am. Hiss. Sorry. Owie. Ma'am."

Degurechaff sighed, and the intensity of the room went back to bearable levels. Fang had not noticed it before, but he had been holding his breath since the two had started talking. That was the level of pressure the two women had exerted on the space around them. He was glad the mana suffocation was not going to be a constant thing between them if these encounters happened more frequently in the future. Glancing over at Masquerade, Fang could tell the thespian had not fared much better.

"If that is all, then I will be going," his captain stated as she started to move down the hall again.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Weiss, see you— Wait!"

Degurechaff turned around. "What?"

"There was one more thing. We got two clues about what the eleven characters that make up the redacted word in all of the messages regarding the Eleventh Goddess."

A chill ran down the hallway suddenly. "Those are?"

"White Silver - eleven characters…"

Sonnetto and Nichts went stock still.

"...and Degurechaff - eleven characters again."

The hallway was dead quiet.

Sue waited for a response from Nichts, but none came.

"So what do you think?" the angel inquired without any realization that she was talking to this Eleventh Goddess at that very moment.

Fang felt so proud that he had figured out his master's clever ruse to hide her divine identity. She was clearly the eleventh entrant into the great battle to come. She had even duped this other goddess, and by the sounds of it, Degurechaff had ties deep within Germania to obscure her true identity as the Eleventh Goddess.

Finally, his master reacted. "That is all just coincidence. Many names and titles have eleven characters."

"But only one female mage in the military ever achieved high enough rank to lead a battalion with a last name composed of eleven characters, and we know from heavily redacted records that White Silver also was a name given to a high-ranking female soldier. Most importantly, I know from first-hand experience that the Devil of the Rhine was, in fact, a woman."

Degurechaff took another deep breath, centered herself, and responded with care. "Sue, how much time have you spent this week working on the caseload Elya has given you?"

"Well, you see, Captain Müller wanted me…I mean, this was important."

"Investigator Sue, you cannot neglect your duties as an inspector. Sometimes lives are at stake in these cases."

"But she always gives me boring ones like rescuing a dog in a minefield or clearing unexploded ordinances in the Rhine or patrolling the Alps."

Fang could not be more shocked by what he heard. It was like going to the opposite side of the world had made everything inverted, too. This was someone with the Mandate of Heaven doing menial labor.

"No buts, Inspector Sue. You will get let go if you keep up this insubordination. Your position here may have been created to find and bring the Devil of the Rhine to justice, but you still need to follow orders and get through your caseload first."

"I thought you were eager to hear about the progress of my investigation into the Devil," the immature goddess retorted. "You always insisted that I tell you first."

"And I still do, but that doesn't mean that I want you to neglect your other work. You can also just give me a written report of any findings because I don't plan on being at the Berun office long. As for your Devil case, I would rather you make zero progress on your investigation if it meant you were getting all your casework done."

"Really? But this could be the greatest discovery in the history of Interpol."

"Yes, really. I could not be more serious."

With that, Sue left to get back to her duties as an international dogcatcher, explosive magnet, and mountain interrogator.

Nichts gave a massive sigh of relief as they entered her office, which had "Capt. Tanya von Weiss" emblazoned upon its little window.

They all found their desks and began going through their own work.

While they filled out forms, Fang thought about how he really wanted to learn more about Tanya.

---

Captain Elena "Elya" Müller walked into the hall with her old friend and colleague, Captain Tanya von Weiss. They had never really met during the war but became close after it. Elya's best friend, Viktoriya "Visha" Ivanova Serbryakov, had served as Tanya's adjutant back when she still went by Degurechaff, and it was through Visha that Elya came to learn about the Empire's darling magical officer. The military had done a lot to cover up the young woman's existence. Not only was she a child soldier who had joined at the age of eight or nine years old, but when the Empire had sought to get a peace deal through the Ildoans, they gave a man named Erich von Lergen all the credit for Tanya's exploits.

After the war, Tanya and Elya had fought side by side against the Kaiser's Men and helped inspire the team-based paradigm Interpol used now to fight magical crime. Those days were something else.

A pang of guilt still ran through the redheaded Elya when she remembered what happened back then. How she had taken advantage of the young, heartbroken blonde to steer Tanya back towards a life of deadly combat. While White Silver was a battle junkie through and through, the former spy knew she herself was a manipulation junkie. Elya could not help herself anymore after all the covert missions she had taken during the war. Whenever the redhead saw helpful someone, she used charm and any kind of underhanded tactic to get them to participate in her schemes.

The belief that what she was doing would ultimately help society and the friends she also manipulated was the only way she justified continuing to interact with them. In the case of Tanya, she kept the Unified States and the Legadonia Entente Alliance off her back and occasionally provided her platonic companionship when the traumatized blonde needed it.

Then there was the fact that so many mages they knew had died in those couple years after the war.

Elya kept her composure, but, on the inside, she carried a lot of guilt for what had happened and sympathy for the woman beside her who had lost so much of her family.

"So what was this thing you wanted to tell me," Tanya began, utterly unaware of Elya's thoughts.

They went into a private viewing room with a specialized computation orb that could send recordings across the world and replay them, granted that a mage supplied it with mana and the proper inputs.

Elya tapped the device, and a hologram of an interrogation of some man in a tailor-made suit appeared on the wall.

"We received this recording from Berun police the other day. Due to the suspicion around the upcoming vote on the Imperial Restoration Act, one of the Bundestag staffers was recommended for questioning when an officer caught him destroying visitation records."

Tanya frowned with palpable concern. Both of them did not want another world war breaking out on the continent.

"What is going on?" Tanya inquired, trying to follow along.

"So you see how the man, Karl Jung, keeps blinking rapidly and sweating as the interrogator asks pointed questions about why he destroyed those records."

Tanya went wide. "The Kaiser's Men incident."

"Exactly. These are the same responses those who showed no signs of extremist behavior before exhibited during interrogation all those years ago."

"Then there is a chance that…." Tanya paused to take in the implications.

"That the same person who was behind the Kaiser's Men has struck again."

"Or at least, someone who discovered the same spell."

"The intent behind the plot is obviously the same," Elya countered.

"If we find that monster…."

"Then we might be able to figure out how to undo the spell and save all those men and women they mind-controlled in the past," the redhead finished for the blonde. It wasn't officially recognized, but those in the know were certain that many of the Kaiser's Men had been put into some kind of trance.

"And save Matheus," Tanya added as she rubbed her knuckles anxiously in a display of emotion she avoided whenever in public. Matheus Johann Weiss was her former Vice Commander and, maybe more importantly, her adoptive father, hence the change in surname. Adult adoption was not a thing in Germania, but right after the war, the rules somewhat went out the window, and it wasn't clear if any law actually forbade it at the time. Regardless, the paperwork had been accepted at the time. No problems had emerged yet on the matter.

The blonde's breath became wet with a sadness that served as a stark reminder that Tanya kept her calm in front of her team, but behind closed doors, she still had a heavy emotional burden she pretended not to have. Hard-boiled, they called Tanya's public persona.

Elya remembered Matheus being a very loving parental figure for the woman who was a decade his younger and in need of a lot of support. Back then, Tanya had regressed a lot after being grounded. She started acting like the traumatized teenager she actually was at the time. Matheus also had been assisting his commander in opening bank accounts and managing investments, which Tanya couldn't do herself in Germania legally as a woman during and immediately after the war. Mathus gave Tanya a place to live, a comfortable civilian job at his family's computation orb business for a time, and his extended family to rely upon if she needed them. It really meant a lot to Tanya.

After locking the door for privacy and turning off the projection, the former spy let Tanya lean upon her and began to comfort the very short blonde as she had all those years ago. Like then, she just held Tanya until the emotions passed through her fully and the jitters stopped, rocking her side-to-side. It was something she had seen Matheus do before what had happened. Elya, unfortunately, had to fill a gap that man had left despite her curse, which made relationships nearly impossible. Tanya knew who Elya was deep down, but like the current Matheus currently, it was like she was trapped in her own mind as these "helpful" personas took hold.

Looking at the woman at her side, the former spy could not sense a spirit yearning for freedom in an unfair world. Tanya was not like Elya, though. Elya was locked inside, but no one locked Tanya in but herself. As much as that spirit suffered inside like a caged wild animal who died in captivity, Tanya feared the world far too much, and so she dared not leave.

While Tanya never shared the deepest of the secrets that formed the blonde's self-imposed prison, she trusted Elya wholeheartedly with the knowledge she would not give anyone else, which just made Elya feel even worse for what she was about to do.

Elya cleared her throat. "I pulled some strings, and your team will be sent to Berun to catch the person involved in the mind-controlling people in our government," the former spy whispered. "I don't need to tell you, but even though you want to, you absolutely cannot kill this person."

Tanya nodded with determination.

"Other countries have already been notified of the threat of mind-control in the government. The code name for these individuals is Germanian Candidates. While we don't know who we can trust in government or how widespread it is, every precaution has been put in place to prevent whoever is behind this from succeeding in drowning the continent in blood. Their magic may be powerful, but their plan has no chance of success."

"I hope you are correct."

---

I walked back to my office. Hope did not suit me well, not after every disappointment in my life that proved a costly emotion. I made sure to piece myself back together despite not having the aide of my Nichts persona. I needed to school my expressions if I was going to maintain discipline and respect from my subordinates.

My teammates should have been at lunch, so I should have had some time alone to get work done in silence. It was plenty of time to let that fragile hope fade.

In a few days, we will be getting a temporary teammate from Tejas. This sharpshooter supposedly had a severe mutation that prevented her from using computation orbs and limited her to a weak set of innate magic. That did not bother me. She could make up for that with her skills and expertise in firearms. What did concern me was that she would be coming from the Unified States, which was already a headache for me, given the Silver Shirts were in power in that country. I did not want to deal with Neo-Confederate fascism or any in-fighting on my team.

Speaking of severe mutations and troublesome prejudice, my mind went to Mary Sue's situation once again. Being X definitely left her in quite a nasty severance package with that significantly transformed body. While some thought her an actual angel, many more saw her as a mutant, which meant a powerful mage.

Those with arcane abilities had traumatized a lot of people both during and immediately after the war, and being able to stealthily blend in with non-mages, which the vast majority of mages could quickly, helped with having a comfortable civilian life. Mages who could and would push themselves past the safe limit with their mana to start changing like Mary Sue had were a minority of a minority. One could live their entire life and never encounter such a mage with mutations in person. Only inside Interpol, which had powerful mages from all over, were individuals with unique magical features standard.

As for me, I did not want change. I was happy being the same me I had always been. I knew if I pushed myself past the point of no return, I would turn out something like Mary Sue or worse, given our connection with Being X. I would have to say goodbye to a life where I could pass as a mundie and wouldn't inspire fear into non-mages.

Today was going to be a long day, but at least I had an evening with my housemate Sonnetto at a nice restaurant planned for this weekend. A warm, nourishing soup would revitalize me after a hard day's work and hopefully get my mind off my stressors.

I just hoped, however, that she would not start asking more questions about my past.

I had secrets and insisted upon being referred to by my new name for a reason. It would have been safer for her and me if she had not gotten involved in the cover-up or my past life. As long as Tanya von Weiss remained a nobody in the eyes of the powers that be, I was free. Sonnetto, unfortunately, would not understand how I felt having to guard these secrets so carefully for the both of us.

I finally got back to my office. As I turned the doorknob, I heard the rustling of papers and folders. Had Mary Sue snuck into my office? It should have been locked by the last person who left.

I got ready for a possible confrontation as my left hand instinctively went for my computation orb around my neck.

I popped the door open in such a way that gave me clear sight lines to the majority of the office first and then slowly pushed the door further until I caught the perpetrator red-handed. The less time I gave him or her to react the better if they were a threat.

"Fang, what are you doing!" I shouted.

The man jumped. "Master, I was. How do I say this?"

He had several pictures from my desk in his hand. Those were in a locked drawer. Did this man not understand privacy? My brain did a mental inventory of the drawer's contents. For fuck's sake, don't tell me he found those.

"I ask again, Agent Fang, why are you going through my personal belongings?"

"I just wanted to know more about you, Master, I swear. There was no ill intent behind it."

"Young man, what could you possibly want to know about me that you think asking me first would not have sufficed?" It was a diversion. I knew I had secrets, but Agent Fang's life could be in danger if he found out I was once Tanya von Degurechaff. He couldn't possibly know what Mary Sue was truly capable of, even though the Legadonian's appearance spoke volumes of her magical power. I had done my best to build rapport with the woman. Make her see the error of her ways.

Elya claimed it was inevitable that someone would figure it out someday, and my life as Tanya von Weiss would come to an end, but again, I did not need to change. I had eternal youth. I could just keep things the same. Be the person I have always been because every time the world gives me a reason to care about another person, it takes them away. It was better just to keep things professional…

What had happened earlier flashed through my mind. Well, it was mostly professional, but I had unique circumstances.

Turning my attention outward again, Fang fumbled through my very personal pictures.

"Agent Nichts, I would have, but you are somewhat difficult to ask questions from." He wasn't wrong. There was a reason for that. He found the picture he was looking for and showed it to me. "Is this what your divine form really looks like?"

My face went beat red. The picture in question was me posing in front of a computation orb in my tailor-made, unadorned military uniform. That would have been embarrassing enough, but I had used illusion magic to give myself fox ears, a fluffy tail, and green eyes for the fun of it. I signed the back with "Your Fox from the Foxhole."

Commissioned from Naze​

I had made the pinup for a woman in Berun with whom I had fallen in love with over a decade ago. We were both cultured individuals, and she brought that out of me with ease. In the end, it did not work out because she disliked touch, and I needed that. Even hand-holding went too far for her. She just liked looking and imagining. We agreed to stay friends but understandably became more distant. I had kept the picture as a memento of our limited-time dating. I honestly forgot it was still in my office until this moment. Last I heard from my friend, she had participated in the protests of that ridiculous bill.

I stayed apolitical these days even though most of my fellow people on the margins of society got politically organized as a matter of survival and just fighting for their human dignity. It was just that the politicians during the war had wholly ruined my opinion of them. I had enough of false hope and false fear that kept the rest of the population of the continent docile and worried about random, unproductive nonsense. If you played whack-a-mole with manufactured controversy, you would just find that you exhausted a lot of energy and money accomplishing nothing. Every hard-fought "victory" would just be met with another distraction from what actually mattered to people. The lesson that we should just not be jerks to people would just never be learned because if it were, things would get done, which would mean change, and change was—.

Anyway, it was thanks to my rationality that I kept focused on what really mattered — my career, peace, and, most importantly, the people I chose to call family.

Needless to say, I ordered Fang to drop what he was holding and meet me outside my office while I had put everything away and locked my drawer. The lock was not even broken or tampered with, and I knew I had not left it unlocked myself. Regardless, he was going to learn some new cultural norms and fast, or it might not just be personally embarrassing secrets about me that he discovered next time. Thankfully, this was the first and hopefully last time he had rummaged through my things.

I gave the martial artist a foul instead of another strike, so he wasn't out yet. He did not understand my choice of terminology beyond that I wasn't suspending him for his brazen violation of my privacy. I did not want to look for another mage to replace him, especially if what Elya said ended up being true. Plus, I had invested a lot of time into training him.

We needed someone who could take down foes nonlethally. I did not have the best track record, given my training and choice of mage tech, and I needed to apprehend whoever was behind this alive. Fang was perfect for that.

That reminded me.

"Agent Fang."

"Yes, Captain Weiss!" he returned in fright. I didn't mean to spook the man with my sudden address.

"As penance for your actions earlier, we will be doing a double-length training session. Right. Now."

"Yes, ma'am!" I was a terrible judge of how people felt around me, but I think he sounded happy.

Geez, another battlemaniac.

Regardless, that is what I wanted to hear — no debate, no buts, and no hesitation, just proper respect and obedience. It was music to my very much still human ears.

---

A Restaurant in Schöneberg, Berun - the 28th of January, 1950

As the two women waited for their meals, the crimson-eyed Sonnetto reflected upon her past.

At one time, her body had a different identity — Roxanne, daughter of the minor Bactrian noble named Oxyartes. During Magna Rumeli's war of conquest in Persia in 1938, Bessus, the Satrap of Bactria, saw the writing on the wall. He committed a coup on Emperor Darius III and retreated the Persian army to their eastern neighbor, Bharat.

That meant Roxanne and the other people Bessus left behind were at the mercy of Magna Rumeli's military dictator, Alexander Magnus. The man, in an effort to consolidate the territory quickly under his power, took Roxanne as a wife, making her effectively the Empress of Persia. Once pregnant, the dictator sent her back to his home in Magna Rumeli.

There, Magnus' mother, Olympia, held cabinet and managed domestic policy in her son's stead. Due to their country's leader's absence, the power-hungry men in the cabinet swirled around Olympia, Roxanne, and her newborn son like sharks waiting for the first scent of blood. They buckled under Olympia's rule, and the thought of potentially being ruled by Alexander II was intolerable.

When Magnus got sniped in the Himalayas, they finally smelled blood, and all hell broke loose. One cabinet member poisoned Olympia, Roxanne, and Alexander II to eliminate the competition for their claim to legitimacy. The Empire fell apart as Balkanization rapidly set in.

This was not the end of Roxanne's story, or rather of Roxanne's body. A few men eager to unite the Empire once again under the Empress stole the body shortly after its death. They attempted to revive Roxanne with alchemy.

They were only partially successful. What awoke was neither Roxanne nor human, but a homunculus who just happened to possess the woman's memories. Her body might superficially look human, but the insides were different. That was why she could not speak or feel some typical human desires.

Tanya and her team rescued her after receiving a Red Notice from the new dictator of Magna Rumeli regarding the illegal activities of his political rivals and the scientists in the lab. The homunculus could do nothing but watch the violence happening around her in her cage during the bust. Then, the Germanian blonde walked up to the homunculus and let her choose her future. Tanya valued self-determination. The Roxanne-like person did not know all of what she wanted, but she knew she wanted that.

Since she could not communicate, Tanya had to call her something. The Interpol officer decided to nickname the homunculus after an old friend of hers, and 'Sonnetto' stuck.

No one, not even Tanya, knew who she used to be. As far as the world knew, she was either a completely artificial being or some poor soul who had been bought from human traffickers for experimentation for purposes of some supersoldier project. The scientists destroyed the evidence of her true identity to protect "Roxanne", hoping that Sonnetto would retake the throne. She had zero interest in that.

Having no identity was just so freeing. No pretending to be Roxanne, no princess or wife duties, and so on. Tanya was very accommodating and even gave her a place to stay. Things just settled into a comfortable rhythm between them. They learned sign language together. While she did not eat the same kind of food as Tanya due to the unique nature of her alchemical body, they still dined together.

Thankfully, today had been a long day, but at least she had this evening with her housemate Tanya at this restaurant planned. A warm, alchemical soup would replenish her after a hard day's work that day and hopefully get her mind off her stressors.

She just hoped, however, that Tanya would not start asking more questions about her past.

She had secrets and insisted upon being referred to by her new name for a reason. It was safer for Sonnetto and Tanya that the blonde officer didn't know about the homunculus' past life. It was why the woman had put in such efforts to conceal her identity, from the radically short hair to the loudly pedestrian clothes to the sheer quantity of alchemical tattoos she employed all over her body to store her spells. As long as Sonnetto remained a nobody in the eyes of the powers that be, she was free. Tanya, unfortunately, would never understand how she felt having to guard these secrets for both of them.

They would have a nice relaxing dinner and no more mad scientists who wanted to make their lives a living hell.

Sonnetto waited until food to arrive before sparking conversation. It was more complicated than she expected. She couldn't talk about work because they were in public, and their current job consumed a lot of their mental attention. Having to stop a mind-controlling lunatic would do that for anyone. Sonnetto was still waiting to make a real connection with Tanya. Still, Sonnetto wanted to wait until there was enough trust for the blonde to lower her walls some more before bringing up a romantic relationship.

"So how about that weather, cold, huh?" Sonnetto signed as she got out her alchemy supplies to convert her food into something digestible for her artificial stomach.

"You get used to it," Tanya replied. She occasionally had an odd way of talking about her relationship with her homeland. The blonde clearly still had work on her mind because it really came across like Tanya had gotten used to it, too.

"It has been five years, but I still don't like the winter here."

The conversation died there, forcing Sonnetto to attempt to revive it before Tanya finished her meal. They went back home so the blonde could just work some more. This could be a chance to try to find something in common between them.

"So that mafia boss called you the 'you know what'."

Tanya tensed up and then recomposed herself. "I, unfortunately, must have the same mana signature, but I don't go advertising that. Please don't tell people about it. I like my cozy life with you."

Sonnetto could tell when Tanya was lying, so it was clear to her that Tanya did not simply share the mana signature as a coincidence. While mana signatures occasionally did repeat, she had never encountered a case during her time at Interpol. They were fairly rare.

Sonnetto did not know much about the Great War. As far as she was aware, only a handful of obsessives cared about the mysterious Devil of the Rhine, but almost every war vet who turned criminal that MI15 rounded up claimed Agent Nichts was this devil. Sonnetto had never brought up the subject before but had struggled to think of anything else.

Occasionally, questions about Agent Nichts' war persona would get into the news as it did in Ildoa during the previous case. Mage war vets living in the city sensed the Devil of the Rhine when the Type-95 rarely was employed and broadcast her mana signature over a city. The news stories never got anywhere.

By this point, Agent Nichts had done enough of these stunts, and it was old news. Interpol and Germania would just play it off as a coincidence, and the general public believed that or at least played along. The Kaiser's Men incident in 1934 had created a kind of unspoken rule that one did not spread rumors around Agent Nichts' identity in Germania. It was a taboo, essentially. Masquerade MI15 played along, too, respecting the NDAs around their optional secret identities. Every long-lived mage had a skeleton in their closet, Sonnetto figured.

Mary Sue bought into Agent Nichts as a completely different person, but Sonnetto felt that was because Mary Sue looked up to what she perceived to be another angel who was a hero for her country. "An angel of the Lord could never be the Devil of the Rhine," Mary Sue had once said with such conviction that the crimson-eyed officer did not know what to do about that. Officer Sue was so blinded by her idealistic worldview.

Tanya stirred her bowl before signing with her free hand. "So I saw the name Roxanne in some of the records we recovered from the lab we rescued you from. There was no surname, but I was curious if that was your real name?"

The white-haired officer fidgetted a bit. She figured just that name was okay for Tanya to know. "That isn't the person I am anymore."

"Would you rather I used that name?"

"No. The name you gave me is preferable."

"Do you have a surname I should use?"

"We don't really have surnames. It is the daughter of so-and-so."

"A patronym? That still works."

There was an implied question as to what her patronym was, which would be tantamount to announcing who she was to the world.

"I am not that person anymore, so I would like it to be forgotten too."

"Very well. Do you want a surname?"

"I was thinking that if you and—"

Before Sonnetto could finish, a waiter interrupted her.

"Excused, Mrs. Weiss," the dapper man addressed Sonnetto's housemate. "But your presence has been requested by the Mayor, Harold Geldwasser, at your earliest convenience. He is in our private suite."

Tanya wiped her mouth with a napkin and then glanced at Sonnetto.

She nodded. They both understood this could be a trap. The Mayor had no involvement in their case. MI15 also knew better than to divulge their real plan to anyone who might have gotten caught in their enemy's web. It was suspicious for the Mayor to ask specifically for Tanya since she wasn't officially on the case. That was her alter ego, Agent Nichts. Had there been a leak? While people might figure out Agent Nichts was the Devil of the Rhine, it would take more effort to tie Agent Nichts to Tanya.

Tanya had her dual-core computation orb with her, and Sonnetto had her tattoos prepared with plenty of spells for self-defense.

They followed the waiter upstairs to the private suite where several men and women were talking. Several mage bodyguards stood by the walls. They did nothing to assuage Sonnetto's concerns.

"Ah, the guest of honor is here," a man with round glasses and a bristly beard called out. They did not dare enter the room further. He held up what looked like a pocket watch and made to look at the time.

Before Tanya made to run, he continued. "You must remember me. We met in 1926."

Her housemate hesitated, wracking her brain as he offered a view of the pocket watch as if a clockface would jog her memory. It shifted left and then right. "I don't remember you, sir."

"The psych exam you cheated upon?"

Tanya looked startled as it finally came to her.

---

Military HQ Psych Office - the 19th of July, 1926

The tick-tocking of the grandfather clock kept drawing my mind into its rhythm as I awaited the psychologist to show up. I laid down on the stereotypically red sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable.

The army had assigned psychological exams for me before. It made sense. You needed to make sure your mages were of sound mind if you were going to hand them a computation orb.

I treated the exams like — just as the name suggested — exams. My mind contained every question they would ask and the best possible answer. I changed some of the details here and there to make sure it did not come across as a verbatim textbook answer. Just like when school counselors tried to catch me off guard with their illusions of concern, I knew better. A wrong answer could cause problems.

Before I could think further, there was a knock on the door. Then, a middle-aged man with round glasses and a bushy black beard entered. I did not know him, so the army must have assigned me a new psychologist.

"Colonel Degurechaff?" he asked with evident surprise.

"That is me, yes. You have me at a disadvantage, Herr Doktor…?"

"Doctor Sreud."

Really? "Your given name wouldn't be Sigmund?"

"Close, actually. It is Figmund. Have you heard of me?"

"Something like that, Herr Doktor."

How the Empire allowed this madman to perform psychological exams was beyond me. The real Sigmund Freud - or rather, the one from my reality - was a quack, and that is putting it mildly. Freud may be the father of psychology, but his theories were unprovable at best and dangerous at worst. For example, if he asked you what relationship you had with your mother, no matter what answer you gave, it would prove you had an Oedipus Complex. Like your mom, normal Oedipus. Hate your mom, Inverse Oedipus. Indifferent towards your mom, Repressed Oedupus. There was no winning. Jokes on him. I don't have a mother in this life that I know about.

Doctor Sreud spent some time going through standard questions, and I dutifully gave my prepared answers. Before I could dismiss all my misgivings with the crackpot who had actually handled the exam very professionally up to this point, he went off script.

He pulled out a round golden device with a liftable lid that looked like a pocket watch.

"Now we have completed the required portion of your exam. We will commence with my portion of the exam. For this part, I need you to focus on the sound of the clock in the room."

For fuck's sake. He was going to try hypnotism. I knew he was a quack, but this was pushing it.

I schooled my features not to betray my strong desire to roll my eyes, and I did as he asked.

Tick…Tock…Tick…Tock

This was a total waste of time. Hypnotism did not work. It was all self-delusion by people who wanted to be hypnotized. Should I pretend to be hypnotized to get this done or let him waste his time?

After thirty seconds exactly, he finally said his magic words for his little parlor trick.

"You will enter a deep slumber."

Then, I sensed a mana signature. I did not have time to even process what happened because everything went black.

---

(Lorelei's Note: This section has a brief conversation about suicidal ideation.)

The teenage girl conked out almost immediately. She must really have needed rest.

Turning to the one-way mirror in the room, Sreud addressed his audience of military professionals.

"The patient is now successfully under my hypnosis. With this novel spell, we can dive deep into the minds of our brave soldiers and not only uncover hidden illnesses of the mind but eventually eliminate their traumas. Imagine soldiers who never get Rhine Dreams or experience fear, stress, or anxiety. Soldiers who can fight and fight, and then return home just as sound of mind as they left."

A voice came from the other side of the glass. "You may proceed with the experiment, Herr Doktor. Even though the General Staff provided you with a patient for your experiment who has a long history of eagerly assisting our research department, you will have to stop the experiment if anything goes wrong. Your career is on the line if Degurechaff's mental health is jeopardized in any way."

"I thank you for giving me this chance. There should be no risk. The patient's answers earlier indicated she had one of the healthiest if oddly mature minds I ever encountered, so this should be a simple repeat with just a few details she left out."

Sreud turned around and activated his specialized computation orb, which imposed his will upon Degurechaff.

"You feel safe. No one wants to hurt you. Your innermost self will be honest and say what is on her mind."

The petite soldier began to smile for the first time since the exam started. She looked almost like an angel.

"When I finish counting to drei, you will awake in a trance and answer my questions. Eins, Zwei, Drei."

Her eyes slowly opened, and Degurechaff turned to face him. Suddenly, the room filled with this strange mana, and a weak burst of silver flame happened around her head that quickly simmered out.

That had never happened before, but Sreud played it off as normal because everything hinged on this experiment being a success.

He would start off easy.

"What is your name?"

"I don't remember," she said in a beautiful angelic voice. Was this what she sounded like when she wasn't forcing her voice deeper?

Figmund blinked as he processed both her answer and change of demeanor. That was unexpected. She had answered this question quickly when he asked it during the traditional exam. Figmund decided to try another easy one.

"What year were you born?"

"1983."

Her answers came with zero hesitations. Degurechaff was as to the point as ever, but her aura was completely different. During the standardized exam, everything about her screamed ideal soldier. Now, she seemed like a cute girl who was shyly discussing something embarrassing and personal with a friend. It was unsettling that such a person could exist inside that calloused professional exterior.

"Where were you born?"

"Japan."

What was this nonsense? He had never heard of this Japan and was sure she had made it up. How unwell was this soldier to believe this? Was his spell not working correctly? Sreud had to recover this before his experiment was deemed a failure by the General Staff.

"Tell me about your relationship with your father?"

He asked the question primarily out of habit before remembering the tiny woman's profile, which indicated Degurechaff had been orphaned as a newborn. She didn't have a relationship with her father. The scientist was about to dismiss the question as the soldier actually began answering it.

"I think I failed to be the son my father wanted. I never could do enough to meet his standards. I always made some mistakes, and he would get frustrated and do it himself."

Sreud dropped his quill, staining the carpet with ink. Quickly picking it up, he wrote down some notes and formulated his next question. He would backtrack a bit.

"Have you experienced any thoughts of suicide recently?"

"Not recently, Doktor," this Tanya answered as she picked up her legs and started rocking on the coach as stress made itself apparent on her unguarded features.

She had not mentioned any history of suicidal ideation in her traditional psychological exam. This was serious, but the exam had already gone off the rails with her clearly incorrect answers earlier.

"What was the most recent event?"

Tanya took a deep breath. "A couple of years ago. The General Staff had been considerate and assigned me to a female doctor. She mentioned that I would be going into puberty soon."

The woman before her still looked several years younger than she actually was. Stress, poor diet, and lack of rest clearly were still delaying things. It was not a permanent problem, but it was unhealthy for any teenager.

"Were you afraid of going through puberty?" he pressed.

"No, the opposite. That was the problem."

He blinked. "Elaborate for me, please, Ms. Degurechaff."

"I was excited about it!" she exclaimed. "When I caught myself fantasizing about how I would look when I grew up and being happy about that, I had a panic attack. I am thankful I did not have my rifle with me at the moment. I don't know what would have happened."

Sreud wrote this down nearly verbatim. He had encountered cases that resembled this but not quite. Something was off.

The little girl turned to face him. "I never felt like this before back in Japan. I don't feel like a different person from how I have ever been, but why would I like to be a girl when I never cared about my gender back then? What does it mean, Herr Doktor? "

"That…you are a girl?" he replied, unsure himself. Sreud did not know what to say. The question and another reference to her imaginary homeland had caught him off-guard.

"That I have always been?"

"...Yes."

"Oh…that is a lot to take in, Herr Doktor," she commented with an expression that was like reality had crashed into her with all the force of a speeding train.

"Would you describe yourself, Fraulein?" He inquired, wanted to see if she had returned to her senses.

"A Salaryman in his thirties, but I guess I would be nearing my late forties now."

The scientist went wide-eyed.

"You think you are a man?"

"I need to think about it some more. It is terrifying that I might not be a man."

There were hundreds of things to unpack, but thankfully, Sreud was on familiar ground once more. She had that particular envy the psychologist theorized young girls developed when they realized they were indeed not male. Really, in the psychologist's mind, so much about women could be explained by their desire to be men, from their resentment of their mothers for not making them boys to their general passivity. The trauma from the realization in this patient's case had just been far more acute than in most cases.

"On your record, you stated that you were raised by nuns. What are your thoughts on the Lord and religion?"

Perhaps she had some comorbidity with another trauma related to the nun's treatment of her, which had resulted in this delusional alternative set of memories of her childhood.

Then she started screaming in a rage, and then she started crying in frustration and deep anguish. Whatever came out of her mouth, though, was no known language he knew, and he knew several.

Part of it sounded like "Anata o norotte kudasai, Xdearu koto", but he couldn't be sure.

She just kept babbling incoherently like this for the next couple of minutes. Even when she seemed to calm down, she only responded in this clearly made-up language. What had those nuns done to her to create this personality? What had gone wrong with his spell?

"Doktor ends the experiment immediately!" ordered a member of the General Staff.

"I don't know what is going on. The spell has always worked in the trials at my clinic."

"We have seen enough, Doktor. If you don't end the experiment now, we will force you to end it."

---

I woke up in my chair. Colonel Lergen and General Zettour were at my side. Their faces were, like always, unreadable to me. I could only vaguely remember having gone to a psych exam.

"Thank goodness you are awake," Zettour commented.

Oh, no! Did I fall asleep during my exam?

I jumped from my seat to a standing salute. "At your service, General."

"What is your name?"

"Tanya von Degurechaff, sir."

What an odd question.

"Are you a man?" Lergen inquired.

"I am clearly a little girl, sir."

My good friend Lergen sighed a breath of relief that even I could pick up on. I had no idea what was going on. Why did this crazy organization think it was a relief that they had a little girl fighting on the front lines? I will never understand them.

Zettour and Lergen started whispering to each other, but I could not overhear what they were talking about.

When they finished, the two smiled back at me. I must not have offended them with my lapse in wakefulness.

"You are dismissed, Colonel," Zettour ordered.

As I returned back to the Salamander Kampfgruppe, I could not shake the feeling that something had clicked in place inside of me. I just could not place it.

---

The streets of Schöneberg, Berun - the 28th of January, 1950

"I can't believe I forgot about you!"

Tanya did not waste any more words. She charged her dual-core and started to turn away. Sonnetto barely got her own wings out.

"And you enter a deep slumber," the man mentioned.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Tanya collapsed onto the ground before she could break eye contact.

Was it that easy for him to get them under his spell? There has to be more to it!

Sonnetto rushed to catch Tanya, but the mage bodyguards grabbed her on both sides. They lifted Tanya up.

The white-haired officer summoned two inky fists that shoved them off, but before she could, the madman had finished his spell. She did not want to kill them since they were likely innocent, and she did not have the authority for lethal magic here.

"When I finish counting to Drei, Degurechaff, you will awaken as the perfect soldier, completely loyal to me — silent and obedient. Eins, Zwei, Drei."

Tanya's eyes flickered open, and a weird mana spike like what had happened in the hallway with Mary Sue happened before getting wholly snuffed out.

"Attention, soldier."

Sonnetto watched with her peripheral as Tanya got up and got into a perfect salute. Her subordinate did all she could while outnumbered, but it was all happening too fast. Elsewhere, restaurantgoers screamed at the obvious fight happening above.

"We don't have much time, Colonel. Eliminate her quickly, so we may go. We have much to do, and I plan to make sure you pay me and the entire Empire back for ruining my career and preventing my treatment from curing this world."

Puppet-Tanya sharply turned to Sonnetto, and the homunculus did not stand a chance in this situation. Her housemate bifurcated her with a mage blade from head to pelvis with not a bit of unnecessary movement.
Sonnetto lay on the floor as alchemical fluids spilled onto the ground. She was not conscious of what happened next, but she knew from the descriptions given to her what was happening. Her artificial cells activated magical reactions that caused them to seek each other out. Each cell contained a piece of her sense of self and could reform her body. No one knew to what extent her body could regenerate, and obviously, no one wanted to test it when her life and well-being were at stake. She and Tanya were firmly against experimenting on themselves like that. Her hair could still grow out and be cut since that still retained human-like qualities, but all the fleshy and bony equivalents had these regenerative qualities. It definitely freaked out Fang when he saw her blood equivalents fly back to her and get absorbed into her body.

She might not be able to die easily, but that was worthless if you got caged or needed to overpower your foe to take them down. That is why Interpol used diverse teams to cover for their various shortcomings and to have greater flexibility in tackling the endless variations of scenarios they could possibly encounter.

By the time she reformed and opened her eyes, there were bystanders all around aghast. She took a blanket, which was offered to cover up. She did not have time to explain what had happened in writing, so she gestured thanks, exited the restaurant, and flew off. Sonnetto kept her altitude high for multiple reasons. People on the ground might freak out if they saw her. There was no reason to trigger unnecessary panic. She had clearance to fly over most of the continent as an Interpol Agent so local scans would not register as a threat. As for civilians, though, the fear of mages ran deep in those who remembered the war.

Sonnetto knew that she needed to get to Interpol right away, so she banked hard to the right once she had her bearings. While Tanya did not have the Type 95 on her in off-hours, she was still a terror with the dual-core, which the power-dependent blonde convinced the higher-ups to allow her at all times. The Mages of Interpol 15 were going to need a plan.

Fortunately, she now knew the mana signature and appearance of the one behind the plot against the Germania government. It was a doomed plot, but capturing the mad scientist was still extremely serious.

---

Reichstag Building, Berun - the 29th of January, 1950

Figmund Sreud through the protestors to the security line. He and his henchmages had security passes granted them by his discreetly hypnotized parliamentary staffers. When the Empire was reborn, he wanted to be there to see it. If anything goes wrong, then these mages will serve as Plan B — another violent coup. He had tried force the last time. It didn't work, but that time, he did not have the White Silver under his thrall. His minions would come in waves of two or three so as not to raise suspicion.

Sreud and the mages going with him went through the checkpoint, and the scientist practically leaped up the steps in excitement.

Upon entering, he spotted what appeared to be a little girl in a cowboy outfit, complete with what looked like a holstered revolver. Due to Tanya's existence, the scientist knew not to underestimate little girls and assume the gun was a toy. Little girls could be absolutely terrifying.

Still, he was surprised by the fact that security let anyone, even a kid, go through the checkpoint with anything resembling a weapon. Then he remembered that he had hypnotized security to let anyone through with a pass, even if they had a computation orb or otherwise. While he did not want to tip anyone off by having any of them carry a firearm, his minions could easily hide computation orbs from prying eyes.

Then he got a good look at her features. Her ears had the tell-tale signs of magical mutations from excessive mana exposure. Not too long, but their points did stick out of her impractically long hair. Her skin had this unnatural ashen color, and her eyes were the color of yellow amber.

"Hey, Mister, do you know where the viewing gallery is?" she questioned in American Albish to the assortment of mages. He naturally understood what she said despite her unrefined accent.

Sreud considered how to respond. If this was just a random brat, he did not want to cause a scene.

"Where is your father, little one?" the jaded psychologist replied in the Queen's Albish.

"...He is in the viewing gallery too," she replied with some hesitation as embarrassment layered onto her visage. "But I lost the way back from the bathroom, mister."

Calamity Amb, commissioned from Naze​

"Why are you and your father here, if I may ask?" He followed up.

Her mouth warped into a sinister smile. "To witness the rise of the Empire again."

Then it hit Sreud that the Silver Shirts in America had some fondness for the Empire, too, even though their detestable ideology twisted his country's history for its own ends. Still, once the Empire resurfaced, the psychologist sought an alliance with the Silver Shirts.

He had one of his mages hold the little girl's hand as they headed to the viewing gallery. The building felt palpably empty, but he assumed that the government's choice to only have those with passes enter the building during today's session was the cause. They got to their seats, and the yellow-eyed girl skipped to a well-dressed man with striking green eyes.

"Daddy! This nice man helped me back. I am sorry for getting lost."

"Dad—oof," the dapper gentleman started to respond before his little girl stepped on his foot. Then he took a deep breath and recentered himself before addressing Sreud in that inferior American Albish. "I got to thank you, sir. The name's Ernst Londeen. I hope my darling little girl was not too much of a handful."

"Not at all, good sir," Sreud replied. "I am Doktor Figmund Sreud. You would do well to remember it."

"Trust me, I will."

"I am curious. Are you representing the Silver Legion of America?"

The daughter and Londeen fidgeted a bit.

"Yep, that is me," the American confirmed. His eye was twitching for some reason. "I just can't get enough of that Love, Liberty, and Liberation, and I just want to see our ideals of racial apartheid and the glory of our god spread across the globe."

"I noticed you are not in uniform by the fact you lack that iconic scarlet L on your vest."

"It is in the cleaners. A protester threw some tomato sauce on me."

"That is unfortunate."

Sreud did not usually care for protestors, but he liked that one. This Ernst Londeen was one of the lowest scum on the earth. Sreud could barely tolerate sharing the same air as him.

"Well, we better get seated. They will be starting soon. Oh, just in case any of you are mages, they are going to cast a spell to detect any magic so that the public knows that there was no malfeasance during the proceedings."

After they left, Sreud took a seat with his mages. His other minions took seats in random spots as they had been instructed.

It was not long until a pulse of some spell passed through the entire legislative chamber, just as Londeen said. Then, all the legislators entered the room.

The events went as expected. When it came to the point where they would vote to consider his bill, Sreud walked up to the rail of the viewing gallery and raised his hand. Those under his spell would look up to him, and this would trigger a sudden "change of mind" regarding the controversial piece of legislation and develop a new unyielding commitment to the Empire and all it stood for.

Dr. Sreud frowned. Something was wrong. None of the legislators were looking up.

Then he felt a tap on his back. As his vision went to black, Sreud barely noticed Interpol agents walking literally through the politicians. It was all fake. None of the politicians or civilians were actually here.

Well, Plan B would go off even if he didn't order it. If they didn't have the actual politicians here, then they would just bring back the Empire without them.

---

Agent Fang dodged his commander's mage blade as his life very much depended on it. The martial artist had apprehended the madman Figmund Sreud before all hell broke loose. It was hard enough fending off Agent Nichts even without carrying a man on his shoulder.

He just had to stay ahead of her until—

Tanya's blade sliced clean through the air his head had been just moments ago and split a door in two.

Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck ad infinitum.

While Masquerade's illusion worked out perfectly, the newbie Calamity Amb had almost screwed everything up when she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a miracle that Sreud did not suspect anything. The masked agent had to go get her before the operation could start. Then, while the illusory legislature went into session, Sonnetto confirmed the face identification of the terrorist since she had gotten to see him much more clearly than anyone else.

Now, Fang just needed to steer his commander back to Calamity Amb, who had an effective way of taking out European mages nonlethally. Hopefully, Nichts would avoid hitting Sreud, but the black-haired man would not gamble on the psychologist predicting this scenario.

The next turn would get him into the misleadingly named "kill zone", where Masquerade and the Tejas sharpshooter could take out the mages. Almost th—

Nope! Not going there now. He barely dodged another swipe that cut off his path.

Instead, he had to go outside to the courtyard. Luckily, it would be cleared, and his commander did not seem to have any firearms to shoot explosive formulas.

Unless Nichts has more tricks up her sleeves, she hasn't shown me yet.

---

Calamity Amb did not know what to say. This was one hell of a way of introducing her to the Mages of Interpol 15. While she was not wielding her rifle, which boasted much greater accuracy, the pipsqueak sharpshooter from Tejas could make do with a revolver just fine for running and gunning like this.

Bang, Bang, Bang.

Three shots, two mages down. Her painstakingly enchanted rounds could pierce most magical barriers and did no harm to the flesh. While that might sound useless, Calamity was not here to kill folks. Instead, these rounds render a mage's focus inert if they strike it. With a guiding formula, she could reliably deactivate computation orbs, rendering these kinds of mages practically harmless. Sure, they could do a bit of magic without an orb, but not enough to actually hurt her, who could do a whole lot more without one.

As she channeled mana through her lengthy hair, the strands floated up a bit like wings and gave her the ability to float and apply vector forces upon herself via other spells to reposition herself in the air. She might not be able to fly as fast or use as powerful spells as modern computation-orb-based mages, but sometimes small and precise did a whole lot more than big and intense.

"Where's that Zhangzi guy?" she called out to the only other person who spoke Albish on the team aside from their mind-controlled leader.

"Sonnetto, go help Agent Fang," Masquerade ordered in Germanian. The white-haired mage did not need to be told twice. Then, the thespian continued his banter with his new teammate. "I am sure Agent Fang had his reasons, my little darling."

Bang, Bang, Bang.

One more down. The other three were trapped in Masquerade's illusion bubble.

As Calamity reloaded her gun, she grumbled. "We agreed never to talk about that again."

"May I remind you that it was your—"

"Never. Talk. About. That. Again."

Masquerade dropped his bubble when she finished reloading, and she pacified the hypnotized mages with a few more shots.

With all the mages rendered harmless, Interpol agents swarmed to capture them all.

---

Agent Fang simultaneously thanked and cursed Nichts. On one hand, her insistence on heavy-duty training was keeping him alive. On the other hand, he did not expect the advice to take her seriously to be this literal.

Then he saw Sonnetto. Sreud had dangled off his shoulder long enough. Sonnetto got his intentions immediately as he tossed the bastard towards her. She caught the evil psychologist, giving Fang an opportunity to put the rest of his lesson to practice.

First, he would take advantage of Nichts' bad eye. This hint came from Sonnetto. Nichts had one slightly weaker eye, which is why the blonde turned her head to let her good eye look at things more closely. This created openings that someone like Fang could exploit.

Knowing your opponent had a weakness and actually exploiting it when your opponent was some kind of demigod were completely different things.

Even in his training, Fang had never actually successfully defeated Nichts when she had a dual-core. If he did not beat her now, there would not be another chance.

The martial artist took a deep breath. Everything that was not Tanya von Weiss and him fell away. In less than a second, they would exchange blows. At least one of them would fall. Fang's rapidly accelerating mind ran through countless scenarios of how the battle would go, but there were too many uncertainties, given her altered mental state and the vagueness of Sonnetto's tip.

You aren't taking me seriously, Agent Fang. That is why you can't win.

Nichts words ran through his mind one more time. Finally, he knew what he must do.

Fang took his stance and desperately ignored the mana exhaustion that started to hit him. Both of the mages reacted in bullet time to each other's movements. Tanya put up a barrier to protect her bad side as his first punch went for that angle. Her mana blade went right through his right arm, cutting it clean off.

The martial artist hissed in pain, but this was his plan - his only shot at victory.

While Tanya passed by him, Fang's leg kicked her in the ass and shot her full of mana-disrupting ki. His commander made a wonderful arc through the air. The woman was out cold before Sonnetto caught her, and so was he.

---

Interpol HQ, Berun - the 1st of February, 1950

"Drei."

I turned around and ran into a concrete wall.

Sonnetto facepalmed as the assistant for the Chief Scientist left.

"Anyone planning on explaining this?" I inquired. "And why does my popo feel like—"

I cleared my throat before I finished that sentence. Sitting and I were not going to be on speaking terms until I got more magical healing.

Speaking of regenerative thaumaturgy, Agent Fang had an arm in a sling. I had seen wounds like that before. Some asshole had cut his arm right off. Thankfully, modern medicine could reattach a missing limb or two. Still, if I was ever in the same room as the person responsible for his injury, I wanted to give them the same butthurt that I was experiencing right now as punishment. No one hurts my subordinates except me.

Also notable in the room was some fae-like little girl I didn't know standing next to Masquerade.

My subordinates all exchanged concerned glances while I took in the situation.

Then, my housemate raised her hand to get everyone's attention. "I know the best explanation. We have someone we would like you to meet."

I looked over at the little girl again, but it wasn't her as Sonnetto pulled someone from just out of sight.

"Tanya, they are telling me it is 1950. Is that true?"

"Matheus!"

I reached through the bars and pulled him into a hug. He patted me on the head.

"Has it really been that long?"

"It has," I told him.

"I can't even begin to wrap my head around it. It must have been tough on you?"

"It was, Matheus. It was. You have no idea."

Sonnetto did me a favor by escorting the rest of my team away so my adoptive father and I could catch up with some privacy. I might be mentally older than him, and calling him my father was silly for multiple reasons beyond that, but we were still family. We cared for each other like family does. I never thought I would see my trusty, very by-the-book Vice Commander be himself again.

I still wanted to know why I was locked in a holding cell, but that could wait.

"What is the last thing you remember?" I questioned him after releasing him from my grip.

Matheus rubbed his chin in thought. "I was at the train station headed to Wien to do some business with my father when—. Wait, is my father still alive?"

"He is, and so is your mother. I visit them on my breaks. They still live in Berun. The clockwork and computation orb business was sold to the Zetkins not long after you…."

"Went cuckoo," he offered. "I have been told that much. It is just so hard to believe. Aside from some facial hair and lost muscle mass, I don't look like I have aged a day. You only look a few years older, not over a decade."

"Welcome to eternal youth. You can still die, so don't waste it."

"If what you all are saying is true, then I have been."

"We will have time to go through all of that. What else do you remember?"

"Well, this man came up to me. He talked to me about the war. I related to him a lot. We sacrificed too much to surrender like that. I did not want the blood of our brothers and sisters to go to waste. Then I mentioned I was a mage. That got him excited. He told me to look at his pocket watch. I assumed he wanted me to help him repair it. Then I was here."

Things started to click for me, too.

"Wait a minute," I interjected. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know. I am as clueless as you."

"Do you know the date at least?"

He told me. It had only been a few days.

"Did we catch the person responsible, at least?" I inquired while still putting things together on my end.

Matheus shrugged. Then the man got a mischievous smile.

"So, has my commander finally gotten a g-i-r-l-f-r-i—"

My face flared red. "No, Matheus!"

"How about Elya? She obviously cares about you still."

"We are just friends with problems. Plus, she doesn't swing that way."

"Swing?"

"I am not her type."

"Oh." Matheus frowned and deflated. "Have you been living alone all this time? How have you managed?"

"I found ways to manage," I admitted melancholically. "And I don't live alone. Sonnetto and I share an apartment."

"Who is that?"

I described her until he realized who I was talking about. Matheus clearly had a lot of norms and expectations he needed to update, but he had plenty of experience doing that while working under me during the war. The last thing I wanted was a fight breaking out between my housemate and my former vice commander.

"I guess you will be staying at my apartment this time."

"Oh, is it in your name?"

"Sonnetto's and mine."

"Oh, yeah, right. I guess you must be doing pretty well financially."

"They pay Captains pretty well. I have enough income to cover the apartment and then some, even if Sonnetto and I were not splitting it."

"So what am I going to do?"

"Well, I guess you will get to live with Sonnetto and me for the time being, and then we will figure things out from there."

"I don't want to be a burden."

"Matheus, you got me a job back then. You gave me a roof back then. More than that, you gave me your whole family. Trust me, you aren't a burden. I am just happy to have you back, and it is about time I paid you back for all you did for me."

Our conversation lasted for another hour. Discussing what had happened to Grantz, König, Visha, and the others. It wasn't all good news, but it was not all bad. Matheus missed a lot of chaos being in a trance, even when he was the one causing it.

I was hopeful that I might show Matheus the neighborhood I lived in and our apartment.

Eventually, Sonnetto came over.

"So when am I getting out of here?" I inquired both aloud for Matheus' sake and with sign language. Even though Sonnetto could hear me, I always signed when speaking to her face-to-face.

"You aren't," she replied, and I translated for Matheus.

"Why not?"

"The government is not taking any chances with you for reasons. You will be under watch for a few more days."

"That isn't fair."

"Like you always say, life isn't fair. Sorry, Tanya. I tried to shorten it more."

I just might be my own worst enemy. With that, Matheus waved goodbye apologetically as my housemate dragged him away. The Chief Scientist Agent U arrived. She poked, prodded, and interrogated me for the rest of the day. Still, I could not be that mad. Matheus was back, so I could tolerate being the subject of Agent U's obsessive attention again for a couple of days.

I hoped so, at least.

---

Lorelei Note:

Thanks to DrkShdow and Gods and Kings for the beta reading.

Thanks to Naze, whom I commissioned the art for Calamity Amb. Their SFW Twitter: https://x.com/NAZENANI_3634

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Lorelei Note:
This is a prologue series.t is really depressing and does not have action and adventure like the main Mages of I15 plot. It gives some extra background context for character relationships in the 1950s.

---

On the train to Berun - 27th of July, 1933
17 years before Present

Discomfort, frustration, and concern flowed through Major Matheus Johan Weiss as he sat across from his commander Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff in the train cart. They had disarmed as instructed and were on the train to Berun to get officially discharged before returning to civilian life. Matheus was disappointed with his country surrendering. Germanians had sacrificed so much during the war and to see their country lose despite all that felt like the politicians spitting on the graves of the fallen. Some still wanted to fight, but they followed their orders anyway.

Tanya ruffled through her newspaper, and Matheus observed her rather than diving into a book or other similar distraction. First thing he noticed was just how much she had changed. When he first met her, she must have been ten years old. In retrospect, it was ridiculous that a tiny girl was made his superior. Despite her achievements, it was like no one questioned it. The girl, a woman now, had this intense old soul aura around her that silenced any objections in her competency and authority from her subordinates.

How many times had Tanya had to literally remind him that she was in fact a little girl? There was that time he forgot she was too young to drink. Then there was that time she had to remind him that her weaker voice wouldn't carry in the plane without magical assistance. They couldn't use magic since the enemy could detect that, so she had asked him to speak on her behalf. The reminder that she could not open a bank account on her own as a woman hit him particularly hard as Tanya quickly proved to him how learned she was in all matters of business and finance. He even let her guide him on how to save money and invest.

Matheus sighed. Now with the war over, the distinguished commander across from him would become just another nameless young woman in the crowd. It pained the man that Tanya, who had literally taken bullets for him and could outclass him in magecraft, would go into a world that would attempt to bend her into someone's submissive wife and treat her like she was less than guys like him. It seemed insulting after all he had experienced first hand what she could achieve when in a leadership position. Even the idea that women had their own separate but equal sphere of specialty felt cruel when applied to Tanya. She was a spirit who needed the freedom to become who she was. Gender roles would just be a suffocating cage for her.

"Tanya," he started. The tiny blonde lowered her newspaper, revealing a strained neutral expression. His commander had puffy eyes with bags under them indicating she had another rough night. When she didn't complain about the casual use of her given name, he continued. "Do you have plans for civilian life?"

Tanya folded her newspaper, and Matheus reached forward with an offered hand, which she gently accepted without comment. He massaged her small, calloused palms with his thumb. It was a gesture the few surviving members of the original 203rd Ariel Mage Battalion knew about to calm down their commander. In 1931, something broke in their commander, and Tanya needed regular physical contact to calm down whenever she was grounded for more than a few days. Sometimes people had to hold her at night to help her fall asleep. Due to the immense blood debt Matheus and the others had for the young woman, who had been just a little girl for most of the time they had known her, they put aside social graces and fear of awkwardness to make sure Tanya could be functional and happy.

Tanya had just been their commander at the beginning. Now it was like she became two different people depending on whether she was in the sky or on the ground. In the sky, the old soul was like a much older sister defending her younger siblings. This Tanya had prescient certainty, terrifying competence, and inspiring charisma. On the ground, she became like the battalion's younger sister or daughter in need of constant coddling through the traumas of war. Since they were on the ground now, Matheus could sense his commander's craving for familial contact to stabilize her mind. The older man's paternal instincts overtook him, and he approached Tanya like a father would his daughter.

With just this little contact from him to her, Tanya calmed down enough to organize her thoughts into her typically analytical response.

"I always dreamed of peace," the blue-eyed woman replied. "But all my plans are thrown to the wind now that we have lost."

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"On one hand, our economy will be strained due to the reparations we owe to our enemies though they could have been much worse if we had an unconditional surrender. The bad economy will further limit my career options. On the other hand, the Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine, who played a major role in getting the government to surrender before the situation got worse, are advocating for a new law that will give women equal social and economic rights as well as the right to vote." (1)

"Do you think they will be successful?"

"Given the Frauenüberschuss, the government will have little ability to refuse their demands in our country and abroad. Even the staunchest traditionalist cannot deny the reality that there are just not enough men to go back to the ways things were before the war. Current figures place the imbalance between the sexes at eight million more females than males in the Empire.

"This will inevitably have consequences on our culture. First, females will need to stay in the workforce in order to cover the vacancies left by those who…." She stopped to tighten her grip on his hand and recentered herself.


"Second, Doppelverdiener households where both the man and woman earn income will become the norm. Some males will, for the first time, have to contend with female earners making more than them, and that will…may result in resentment."

Tanya almost never considered people's emotions in her strategic calculations, but Matheus knew her prophetic pronouncements well. The woman could predict the future with uncanny ease due to her prodigal genius. The older soldier did not want to admit it, but he knew there would be many men who would feel emasculated by her and lash out.

It was not unheard of for smart and forthright women to get told to shut up and just look pretty while the guys made decisions. Matheus remembered one of his neighbors who physically chastised his wife in front of him when he was young. While it was becoming more and more frowned upon in the new century, social pressure alone could not hold husbands and fathers accountable for their abuse.

"Third, males from other countries as well as — um, never mind about that — anyways my point Germanian men will have greater competition for courtship. All of these factors are fuel for an anti-feminist and xenophobic reactionary movement in service of bringing back Germania to some supposed 'Glory Days'...I believe. It depends on how much the more reasonable reparations impact our economy and how our new Kaiser-less government manages its working class policy interests." (2)

Matheus took a few moments to process what Tanya just said. When she would wax expository like this, he couldn't always follow her alien logic. The little prodigy would just reduce society and warfare to economic forces for her terrifyingly accurate predictions. It is like human beings were just resources or animals in her eyes, but part of him suspected it helped her not feel what was going on around her. While her analysis often objectified humanity as whole, this cold aspect of her intellect only applied to those outside her Salamander Kampfgruppe. For people like Matheus, he knew the woman saw a person who mattered and whose life was priceless.

"But do you have any concrete plans for your future, Tanya?" Matheus pressed as he squeezed her small hand reassuringly. He knew he could get her to switch to a healthier, more personable way of thinking when he had her focused on herself and those she cared about.

"Not yet. I haven't had enough time to figure out where I can work. I thought at least that I would be staying at the Serbryakov residence with Visha in the short term, but the two of us are still working out the details about that after…. Also, I will need your help when we arrive in Berun to deposit my wages in the bank."

Matheus had to sponsor Tanya for her bank account due to her age, gender, and lack of family when she was a minor. During their leave, the older man would take his superior to check on her accounts and investments. This was where he discovered just how talented she was in matters of personal finance. The look in her eyes when she got a return on a well thought out investment left a deep impression on him, and a paternal pride swelled in his breast.

"I was thinking that you and I could work for my family's business," Matheus suggested. "My father and uncles are fairly well-connected, and I would be able to vouch for your acumen."

It went unsaid that she would have one of her family — the 203rd — with her at work and to escort her so she was never alone. While it might be humiliating to live under the expectation that she, as a woman, should strive to always be escorted by a man, he knew that there had always been exceptions for working class women. Things needed to be done, and women did what they had to do. It just came with more risk. He just did not want anything to happen to her. She had gone through enough.

"What kind of work would that be?" she inquired. "I want to know the industry, scope of work, compensation, and benefits."

"I cannot dive into all of the details because I don't know them," Matheus replied honestly. "It would start with an apprenticeship. Your costs would be covered along with an allowance for housing. We traded primarily in clocks, but during the war, we had shifted towards the creation of computation orbs."

Her eyes went wide at that. "Do you think we will be able to get some?"

He glanced around just in case someone was eavesdropping or about to enter before quietly nodding. It had been a few days, and already many of the aerial mages including Tanya and Matheus had been struggling with their disarmament. The survivors of the original 203rd had seen the most action and fought on every front. They could no longer live apart from the magic that had kept them alive on the battlefield for ten years without palpable consequences to their mental health.

Going from superhuman powers that have a computation orb allowed back to the mundane hurt in a way that was hard to describe. If he had to place it, they felt both like they were amputated from a part of themselves and rendered profoundly vulnerable like a snail without its shell. Aerial mages always had to be ready to fly or put up a barrier. Their hands would regularly double check that a computation orb was around their necks, and the back of their minds regularly rerun the formulas for spells necessary to keep them safe. Their instincts screamed that someone might shoot at them, and the lack of access to magic stopped them from being able to soothe that paranoia.

Then it was like a lightbulb went off above the blonde's head.

"I read a story in the paper," Tanya said as she pointed one finger awkwardly over her arm, which was currently occupied holding his hand, towards the page she had just been reading. It said Magic Marauders Pillage the Countryside. "Law enforcement is having trouble dealing with mages with military-grade equipment. Being able to deflect gunshots and fly away from pursuers make them impossible for regular law enforcement to handle. I know all of you are battlemaniacs. Perhaps we should see if the police would be interested in hiring us as mage specialists?"

"Are you sure?" he asked with a bit of pain in his voice. "Do you think it would be good for you to be involved in something like that?"

She squeezed his hand back for a moment in sincerity. "I do. I hate war. You know this. I just need to get back up there where I am not dealing with this irrational cruelty on the ground."

Thankfully, she is self-aware, but she is also very sensitive to how people treat her.

Unaware of his thoughts, she continued. "As much as my reason rankles against violence, you know how my brain works now. I see a person, and I know how to take them down efficiently. Our experiences have awoken instincts deep down in my rat brain, which want me to fight and hunt with my pack."

Matheus frowned. He didn't want to resign himself to violence. He certainly did not want to condemn her to it either. She could be so much more.

"This wouldn't be like war," she attempted to placate him. Tanya could understand frowns, and this wasn't their first conversation about life after the war. "It isn't about wasting lives and turning all the fruits of industry, science, and culture into yet more craters in the ground for some stupid, undefinable dream of victory that can never become reality. This time is about making the world a better place. It is about saving lives. It is about preventing the disruption of industry and increasing productivity."

"What about working with my family?"

"I don't think it is going to work out. Non-mages are terrified of us. I am afraid if I don't find outlets, I will hurt someone."

Tanya had a habit with casually threatening people during her time on the Eastern Front to keep discipline. Matheus had the unfortunate experience of having to calm down Tanya whenever someone told her that she couldn't do something whether it was something she was certain would end the war or because she just happened to be a woman. When whatever happened that broke her a few years ago, she no longer tolerated these acts of disrespect against her dignity as a human being.

The rest of the world didn't deserve her, Matheus thought. If only she could have been born in a world where she could just be her.

They stayed quiet for a while. Then Viktoriya entered the room with coffee. The tall woman had a special talent for brewing coffee, which their coffee-addicted commander appreciated immensely. Matheus did not like that the blonde woman drank so much.

As long as the tall Germanian had known Tanya, she just could not leave work unfinished sometimes. In the early years of the war, it was like she was afraid something bad would happen to her if she did not go above and beyond constantly. Then it seemed like she would just find some reason not to relax. Matheus still remembered how everyone else in the battalion had their vacations approved while Visha had to do schoolwork assigned by their commander and received remedial education for not meeting Tanya's aspirations for her. Eventually, it became clear it was a problem deeper than sheer habit or occupational paranoia.

The two let go of each other's hands. Tanya scooted to the side, so that Visha could join them. The adjutant poured three cups of coffee before telling Matheus to make room for her on his side of their table in the train cabin. The man blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. The adjutant had always sat near Tanya, giving her attention and comfort.

Why was she acting so distant? Matheus wondered.

Once they were all seated, Viktoriya and Matheus on one side and Tanya alone on the other, Matheus cleared his throat.

"So are we going to talk about this?" he began.

"No," Visha replied.

Tanya seemed hurt. "It is sensitive," she clarified a bit.

Matheus sighed. "Whatever it is, I will not judge."

Visha and Tanya shared a glance before the blonde nodded. Visha leaned into the slightly taller man to whisper.

"Tanya has desires for me."

Matheus blinked. It was the worst kept secret among the 203rd that Tanya was what they called a homosexual. Her attention got taken up by women just like many of the other men of the battalion though she understandably kept it to herself and would never be creepy about it. While Tanya was definitely unique when it came to women, Matheus was sure anyone regardless of gender would come out different if they went through their adolescence on the front lines. Despite Tanya's marginal status, the old guard of the 203rd made sure no one ever let the wrong ears hear of her secret.

The Eulenburg Affair demonstrated how much damage accusations of homosexuality could do, and no one wanted that to happen to Tanya. The Eulenburg Affair involved Maximilian Tarken accusing the Kaiser's best friend Prince Nikolas of Eulenburg of having a carnal affair with one of the generals in the Kaiser's cabinet. This resulted in the worst domestic scandal in the Empire's history as the countless accusations and counter accusations led the public to call the Kaiser's cabinet the Liebenberg Round Table. With the Prince of Eulenburg and his cosmopolitan Weltpolitik out, Maximilian Tarken and his faction could enact their highly aggressive foreign policy, which was why Germania decided to keep counter invading countries and demanded a vague, maximalist victory before considering peace. (3)

The three soldiers decided to take this to Tanya's train cabin where they locked the door behind them for greater privacy.

"Are you avoiding her because of her nature or because you feel threatened by her feelings?"

Visha glanced downwards ashamed. Redness entered her cheeks. "It is more complicated than that."

"How so? You don't act like this in front of other soldiers who had a crush on you."

"That is different," the Russy refugee unhelpfully started. "We don't share a tent. We don't change in front of each other. Their love is healthy."

Matheus frowned. It was complicated. Female homosexuality was not a crime per se, but Tanya was in danger of not only losing her career but other forms of state action. Her battalion had long since shed such prejudices under Tanya's careful implementation of her "Non-Discrimination Policy" and annual training for officers, or, at least, Matheus had thought that was the case. Apparently, it wasn't.

"And what is wrong with Tanya's feelings?" There was an age difference of six years between the two, but sometimes people have to rebuff the feelings of those much younger than them. That did not mean treating them like threats to their safety, all things equal.

"I don't mean that. I have read that lesbianism is triggered by traumatic experiences. I was hoping if I wean her off of me that she will go back to being a normal girl." (4)

If this conversation hadn't been so serious, he would have laughed at the idea of Tanya ever being normal. Plus, normal was not acceptable in 203rd. While Matheus had always struggled with how his commander went against tradition and expectations on the battlefield, he still accepted the totality of his commander at the end of the day.

In response to Visha's claim, Tanya leaned in. "I can respect a certain amount of distance. I want you to be comfortable too, and the sooner I get over this emotion, the better for both of us."

"May I ask a question?" Matheus asked, seeking a time out.

They both nodded.

"Visha, did you just learn about Tanya?"

She nodded slowly.

He facepalmed.

"Okay," he started with some frustration. "Tanya do you believe you will stop being a homosexual if you get over this years old crush of yours?"

Both blinked.

"You knew?"

After explaining that the 203rd had been supporting their commander behind the scenes to the two youngest members of the original aerial mage battalion, he awaited Tanya's response to his question.

"No. I can say with near certainty that I know myself well enough that I do not like men that way and won't."

Matheus felt weird having to be the adult for his commander sometimes, but this was not one of them.

"So, Visha, do you think it is unfair to Tanya to treat her so differently from everyone else? You promised to live together at least for the short term. It will be painfully obvious that you have some kind of issue between you if you pointedly avoid each other."

Visha sighed in frustration. "Are you saying I am in the wrong here?"

This would explain why Tanya has been more stressed than usual and why her lack of sleep, the black-haired man concluded. Visha who normally supports her has cut Tanya off from physical contact that she needs to function on the ground.

"No," Tanya rejected. "It is important to have boundaries and make informed decisions. You have a choice with whom you spend time and share space. While you can respect why I wouldn't couldn't tell you easily, you know now."

Matheus didn't like how Tanya was responding. The younger woman was acting like she was the one who had to do all the accommodating, and this logic taken too far would result in Tanya avoiding all spaces with other women. It was neither practical nor fair to Tanya to self-segregate herself like that, the man thought, but held his tongue. He didn't want to contradict his commander and didn't know if his thoughts on the matter were correct either.

Visha processed this for a couple moments. "I still will let you stay with my family but-"

"You don't feel comfortable with me being so close anymore. I will have to find another place to live. I understand."

Tanya had a very expressive face that betrayed her inner pain. Matheus felt a pang in his heart.

"But I promised that I would trust you. I was very clear."

"And you had the right to change your mind after promising to help me," Tanya replied earnestly. "It was the heat of the moment. You spoke from your heart before your head caught up. I have seen it before. You don't have to worry."

Visha's actions annoyed the older man deeply. If the adjutant had promised that it was completely fine that Tanya desired her and then changed her mind right while they were on their way home, then that was pretty rough for Tanya. The commander had almost no options outside of returning to the convent. That wasn't a great option given the commander's very open atheism and stressed reactions to religious expectations.

Matheus also noticed that the little woman definitely had let her mind do the talking. It was clear on her face that her heart was a mess and wasn't taking new distance with her adjutant well.

"I might have a way to help," Matheus began. "What if you stay with me, Tanya?"

"Matheus, you are a single man," Tanya replied. "You can't live with an unmarried woman."

"Normally, no, but you are an orphan, and so I can adopt you, I think. While we finalize the paperwork, you can stay at Visha's home. When it is completed, you can be my daughter. How does that sound?"

Tanya's face evolved through concern, fear, happiness, and frustration before landing on contentment.

"That would be most practical for my situation."

That was Tanya for "yes".

---

On the Streets of Berun - 28th of July, 1933

Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov walked down the street with her former commander in tow. She kept her pace brisk, forcing the much shorter girl to put in effort to keep up. It was mean, but Viktoriya did not want to face Tanya right now.

As they passed a sign post indicating they were on the street her parent's townhouse was on, the former adjutant reflected upon her time with the child prodigy Tanya von Degurechaff. They first met on the Rhine Front under constant threat of artillery shells. The only thing scarier than death above was that little girl who was inexplicably both her superior and there on the frontlines as well.

The General Staff seemed enamored with the little girl. Her theories of logistics, total warfare, rapid response aerial battalions, and the highly flexible kampfgruppen had proven invaluable during the war. The General Staff decided to put that girl - only ten years old at the time - in charge of creating the first elite aerial battalion and later the first kampfgruppe to test her theories and then proceeded to unleash her and her subordinates onto every front imaginable and for the riskiest operations.The General Staff had only assigned tall brunette to serve as the prodigy's adjutant because they were both female and Tanya gave her a high evaluation..

None of Tanya's life really added up, Viktoriya felt. Tanya's intelligence was not like that of a smart child, but that of an adult. Tanya knew things she had no business knowing. At the time, there was a sense in everyone that knew the little commander that the insanity of this new age of war had taken over. Their superiors painted Tanya as the epitome of how desperate the war had become that the General Staff was willing to use a little girl - which was a symbol of innocence in popular understanding - to commit extreme violence. That was the thing though. Tanya wasn't some innocent girl.

During the war, Viktoriya had idolized the small commander as a peace-loving individual. Tanya had even saved their lives a hundred times and deserved to be recognized as a great hero. When the war ended, it was like a spell had ended, and Viktoriya felt the bizarreness of finally internalizing who Tanya actually was. A fear for the commander Viktoriya hadn't felt since they had first met came back the night after Tanya confessed.

The nineteen-year-old blonde woman was hiding something big, and it wasn't her atypical desires.

As they walked to her parent's home, Viktoriya theorized that Tanya must be an alien from another world. It made perfect sense to the twenty-three year old leading the way to her parents' home. She had been reading about outer space, and some scientists had theorized about space-faring aliens using hyper-advanced computation orbs to traverse the stars and may have visited their planet at some point. Some tabloids even speculated these aliens hid in plain sight among them. In fact, Viktoriya had occasionally caught Tanya using her alien language while singing in the shower, swearing, and sleep talking. Oh, the little alien had thought herself so clever, trying to make up all sorts of excuses for her weird behavior, but Viktoriya was onto her.

Tanya being from Planet Cruton or other popular theory of the alien's homeworld was fine though. An alien didn't mean monster. Viktoriya still had a blood debt to the commander even if she might be some kind of extraterrestrial. If Tanya was an alien, then she was probably stranded on this planet. It would explain why she didn't have parents and had such foreign cultural sensibilities.

What had bothered Viktoriya more, surprisingly in a way, was that Tanya had feelings for her. The former adjutant just thought Tanya was being just an affectionate friend. Now Viktoriya feared that Tanya had taken advantage of her to stare at her with lustful eyes. Was that need for hugs and physical contact just a trick to get close to her?

Viktoriya came to a sudden stop. She had definitely gone too far. They needed to go back a block. Looking backwards, she saw the 149cm of the former commander jogging to catch up.

Many would be surprised to find this out, but White Silver was not that physically fit. The younger woman had developed a bad habit during her basic training of overusing magic enhancements to make sure she met or exceeded any physical requirement. The problem was such overreliance results in the body not actually getting actual exercise. It was good for improving one's magical reserves and control, which was one reason why Tanya was an exceptional mage. Now she was without her computation orb, the small woman would struggle to do physical activities she had no problems with before. Combine that with the hot summer sun, and Tanya had become a sweaty mess.

"Are we here?" Tanya huffed and puffed out.

Viktoriya just started walking back the way they had come, leaving a baffled blonde woman in her wake.

Thankfully, it did not take long to correct.

Viktoriya walked up the steps to the door of her parents' home and rang the bell. Soon her mother opened the door. She was much like Viktoriya though a bit shorter and much softer. Viktoriya had inherited her height from her father as well as her mother's appetite. The constant use of calorie-intensive magic and physical strain on the front kept Viktoriya lean. Unlike her former commander, Viktoriya actually let her body do the lion's share of physical activity. This not only freed up some of her focus to keep up with the prodigy in magical battles but also gave Viktoriya a toned body.

"Viktoriya, you are home," Mrs. Serebryakov gushed in her native Russy upon opening the door before switching to heavily accented Germanian. "And who is that behind you?"

"This is…," Visha started as she searched her brain for the right address for the maybe-alien. "Fraulein Degurechaff."

"Oh, you must have served with my daughter. I was so proud of her, reaching first lieutenant. I must thank her commander for recommending my smart little girl for officer training. I hope Visha treated you well, darling. Oh, where are my manners? You look like you are burning up out there, young lady. Please come in."

The older Serebryakov ushered them in. Once they were seated on the couch in the living room — Viktoriya sitting as far away from her guest as possible, her mother decided to break the ice while serving some water to them both. Frustration filled Visha due to her mom putting her back into the box called "child". She already felt old rhythms and habits starting to take hold of her.

"So what brings the young miss to our home?" her mother began.

Tanya took a deep draught of water before answering. "I don't really have a home to go to, so we were hoping that I could stay here for a few days." The blonde's voice had a morose edge to it that Viktoriya knew was a result of how uneasy she was becoming on the ground as well as this rift that had sprung up between them.

"Oh dear, do you have at least some parents or family?" the matriarch continued.

"I am an orphan."

"Oh dearie, how dreadful! Do you at least have any dresses to change into? You can't walk around Berun in your uniform."

Tanya paused in the conversation. "The last dress I owned was before the war. I doubt it would still fit me."

"Dear heavens, you poor girl. That is it! You are staying with us. Viktoriya, prepare our guest a bath and then pull out one of your old dresses. She needs to change out of that uniform. Also, your father will be home soon, and I will let him know that he needs to take this little lady to the boutique at once to get an outfit."

Viktoriya had a shocked expression. First Matheus and now her mother were treating Tanya von Degurechaff like some little girl who needed constant coddling. This woman had led men into battle before she went through puberty. She had committed acts some would reasonably consider war crimes. She did this all the while having an air of maturity and confidence greater than men in their thirties, yet somehow, now that the war was over, that spell she felt confounded people to treat her like an adult when she was a child had reversed. Now they were treating an adult like she was some pitiful little child.

Was this some alien magic she had weaved around them? Viktoriya thought.

"Daughter, please. Your father will be home soon, and I want to make sure the young Fraulein Degurechaff is presentable when he arrives. The sweet girl is just covered in sweat."

Viktoriya opened her mouth but said nothing. She knew better than to disobey her mother. She began to move to the stairs.

"And bring up the girl's luggage to the guest room? They look awfully heavy and the girl is so frail and tired."

The former adjutant balled up a fist behind her back in frustration. With a forced smile, she leaned down, took the bag in one arm easily enough, and finally made her way upstairs.

She completed all of her tasks with practiced ease. From a young age, her family had raised Viktoriya to be a servant to nobles and royalty. The Russy had long elevated mages to noble status, and her family was no exception. However, when the communists had taken over, mages became the primary target of persecution. Her family had fled Russy and found a new home for themselves in Germania. Tanya had put Viktoriya's training to the test during the last several years when Visha served as the younger girl's adjutant.

Coming down stairs, Viktoriya saw her mother holding Tanya's hand and rubbing her back reassuringly.

"Your bath should be ready dear," the matriarch stated encouragingly. "Hurry up."

Tanya eased herself up and made her way to the stairs where she made one of her head bows. "Thank you, Visha."

Viktoriya remained quiet, which her mother picked up on. Once Tanya had shut the door to the upstairs bathroom, her mother snapped at her.

"Why are you being so distant with her?" she demanded in Russy. "Were you responsible for her during the war?"

"I was," Viktoriya replied confused. As an adjutant, she was, in a sense, responsible for Tanya. "It is complicated."

"The war hurt that young girl. She needs care. You are her elder, yet here you are acting like she barely exists. That girl really appreciates you, and you are hurting her with this attitude of yours. Don't pretend you aren't. I know you, my daughter."

"It is complicated!"

"Then explain it to me. The war is over. You don't have to keep what you are doing in the military a secret anymore."

"I can't!"

"You can't or you have gotten some pig-headed grudge against this poor girl. I remember when you bullied Elya because she was more developed than you when you were kids. You became good friends when I set you straight. Is this the same thing?"

Viktoriya blushed in frustration and embarrassment, but couldn't formulate a response to explain why this wasn't the issue at all. She was in her twenties for gods' sake. Viktoriya didn't have such childish rivalries anymore. Unfortunately for the former adjutant, her mother took her silence as confirmation of her theory and simply further put her daughter back into the familiar mental box of being her problem child.

Now I want you to go with your father and help that girl at the tailor's. She needs a friend right now. The girl was just telling me how thankful she was to you when she broke out in tears that she tried to hide from me. Whatever the problem is, resolve it."

It wasn't an order, but it might as well have been.

---

Wien, Germania - 12th of August, 1933

General Hans von Zettour sat in his temporary office while the peace accords hammered out what the future of his country would be.

He had just finished reading an article about the fate of Colonel Lergen. The poor man had the misfortune of getting all the credit for every dirty operation assigned to and executed by Tanya von Degurechaff. Much of this was due to an intelligence operation to fool the Ildoans into giving Germania a better deal in the peace negotiations during the early years of the invasion into the Russy Federation. Lergen had become the face for the Salamander Kampfgruppe on paper to pull it off. It had been successful, but his government had failed to accept the peace agreement back then.

Though they lost the war, it wasn't all bad. Tanya von Degurechaff and her subordinates had continued to pull miracle after miracle off during the war allowing for a softer defeat. The reparations would be bearable even if grief would be too much for many.

It struck Zettour that most people did not know who the frightfully young Lieutenant Colonel was. Many in the General Staff did not want to draw attention to the fact that they had used a prepubescent child in experiments and had her fight on the front lines. On paper, it was horrifying. In reality, it was also horrifying but ameliorated somewhat by Degurechaff's prodigal and bizarrely mature mind. Still it was a deep shame that Germania would never be able to publicly acknowledge Degurechaff's contributions without putting her into international crosshairs.

Lergen had insisted some cultists had summoned Degurechaff from another plane of existence and put her into the body of an orphan. Her knowledge of logistics went far beyond anything she learned at the War College, and her theory of Total War was something only a demon could imagine that easily and with so little emotion. The colonel just did not have any way to prove his wild theory and knew he was not allowed to direct any unwanted attention to the little girl.

Speaking of "devil", he spotted a letter on his desk from a "Tanya von Weiss". The contents revealed it to be former Tanya von Degurechaff. Her former vice commander had apparently recently adopted her. The young woman underlined three times to make it unmissable that her name change was not due to marrying a man.

Her Vice Commander was much older than her, so it makes sense. Honestly, I just can't ever imagine the young woman ever settling down to raise kids and care for a home.

The Weiss family particularly caught his attention. It was known for the manufacturing of many of the single-core orbs during the war. The dual core Type 97 used by the 203rd were created in a specialized facility, but many of the standard issue orbs came from Weiss's family. It was mildly concerning coincidence, especially given the current problem plaguing the continent with the rogue mages.

Surprisingly, though not all that surprising given this was the mage formerly known as Degurechaff, the letter contained a proposal for an international policing agency to handle organized crime. The idea was something people had been just beginning to talk about as drugs and stolen goods were smuggled across borders and overseas. The new issue of criminals with magic ability flying away from the scene of the crime had only further complicated law enforcement.

The former lieutenant colonel also laid out in a fairly detailed fashion how former aerial mages could have gainful and productive employment as key part of this "Interpol" as specialists dealing with the new age of magically enhanced crime. The key reason is only better equipped and superiorly trained mages would be able to handle other mages effectively. Zettour knew from the war how essential aerial mages ended up being.

Like her suggestions for creating the 203rd and the Salamander Kampfgruppe, Zettour had all the intentions of bringing her idea to his contacts in the international community here at Wein. He would go even further and have the diplomats use the lending of Germania aerial mages to Interpol to get some leverage in the post-war negotiations and ingratiate the other nations to the humble loser of the Great War.

The General just hoped this and their League of Nations plan would actually stop another one of these wars.

---

Notes:
1) See: Wikipedia on Feminism in Germany
2) Based on "Gender as a destabilizing factor of Weimar society" by Donna-Marie Bohan
3) See: Wikipedia on Eulenburg Affair
4) Paradis, Meghan C (2016) "Shifting Understandings of Lesbianism in Imperial and Weimar Germany," Scholarly Undergraduate Research Journal at Clark: Vol. 2, Article 4.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Albish Royal Museum - 14th of February, 1945
Five Years Before Present

"Hey, Barbara, thank goodness," the security officer cheered weakly while holding his stomach. "I really owe you for covering for me. I don't know what has come over me, but I am just not feeling well."

'Barbara' smiled. "No problem, mate. I got this. You go home and get some rest. I am sure you will feel well."

"You are the best! I know you have only started recently, but you have been super helpful, assisting us in every part of the museum. You probably know this museum as well as I do now."

"Don't mention it."

"Before I go," the officer added as he really looked like he needed to go back. "Are you sure you don't want me to contact Dave? I don't want you to be alone in this wing if there is a break-in."

"Who would steal artifacts from our colonies? They only have value to the people they come from."

"I don't know. Some of these have gold and jewels in them."

"Then break into a jewelry store. We are mages. This place is way more secure than any retail store."

"Okay, Barbara, you have convinced me. Now I—." The sickly man didn't finish his sentence as he groaned.

After the officer left, 'Barbara' smiled and tapped her computation orb.

"I am all clear."

"Good job, Polyxena," came the voice of Liliya Ivanova Tanechka. "You heard her, Angels. Commence with the next phase of the operation."

Polyxena, Commissioned from Naze​

'Barbara' undid her disguise to reveal her true form so that she had all her magic available in case of a fight. Her signature green suit, finally free of its transmuted form, blew in the air as the magic produced a small gust of wind. Upon her breast sat a white rose boutonniere, representing secrets, among other things. As her face went from Barbara's to green to her true one, her long, pointy ears grew back.

Her disguise was no mere thespian's trick like a certain someone's. Polyxena could change her face and outfit to fit any role. It was difficult magic to master, but the former Russy agent had all the time in the world to dedicate herself to her craft. Complete transformations were impossible, but just changing her head did let her hide her pointy ears, which would narrow down her identity considerably among known mages. She could moderately change her body shape, too, but the upkeep for those transformations resulted in mana exhaustion after an hour and required much more concentration.

Those familiar with Tanechkha's Angels knew they all had undergone the same Russy experiments that resulted in their fae features. Most importantly, shape-changing created an almost undetectable amount of mana leakage, preventing most mages from seeing through the disguise. Illusions could still cause magical noise mages could pick up on if they knew what to look for. This spell lacked that weakness as the cost of having a more draining upkeep.

After Polyxena let in her three comrades, they got to work taking every priceless artifact and placing them carefully into their getaway car. No one noticed a thing.

---

Londinium International Airport - the 2nd of February, 1950

Masquerade sighed. It had only been a few days since the Germanian Candidate incident, and they had another case on their hands. Liliya Ivanova Tanechka had sent a declaration that if Albion did not return the artifacts to Bharat and Magna Rumeli, then her Angels would swoop in again and take them by force if necessary. It would be just like their famous heist from five years ago. In keeping with the tradition of his home country, they kept a stiff upper lip and passed a law making it illegal to return any artifacts. This meant Tanechka's mage idealists would inevitably strike, and Masquerade's homeland called on the Mages of Interpol 15 to protect their collection of treasures.

It did not help that the international community was also up in arms, trying to figure out counters to what Doktor Figmund Sreud did. Money was poured into the research and development of hypnosis, only to find out that Figmund Sreud's pocket watch was a fluke that he could only use. It did not even match the design he had in his original patent. The hypnosis spell did not even work that way for anyone else other than when Sreud used his special pocket watch.

The Type 95 was the only comparison. Both devices broke every rule people knew about magic. Granted that people broke the rules all the time. It was like magic refused to be defined by science, and the moment the magical community came to any law of magic, a miracle would happen to defy all expectations.

If there was a goddess, Masquerade did not know why she let such a miracle happen. If Sreud had been successful, he would have drowned the world in war. That went against everything the Church of Albion had taught him about the goddess. You were to pray to the goddess in challenging times for protection and aid. Why would the goddess cause more suffering? It did not settle well with his faith.

Still, he hoped they would continue to find weaknesses and counters to Sreud's spell. Every magic had them, even the most powerful ones.

"Okay, you are clear," the Mage Aviation Authority agent stated, handing Masquerade back his documents and ID.

The thespian, without his mask, had a very plain, unremarkable face. He never had trouble going anywhere. In his old work as a spy, his ability to blend into crowds and be any janitor or henchman made his job easier. Having good looks would only draw unwanted attention and make his targets, who were primarily men, feel threatened. Powerful men tended to have insecurities, and having someone who looked lesser than them would instead make these politicians and crime lords trust you more.

It was the opposite for women in Spycraft. Intelligence selected women based on their good looks. The more remarkable, the better. Shut down higher-level thinking processes in their targets, and then you could get away with a lot more than anyone cared to admit.

While Spycraft needed beauties and plain-faced blokes like him, it still hurt Masquerade's pride when he realized that M5 specifically selected him because he was not good-looking. Now that chapter of his life was behind him, Masquerade took on a new identity. He wore loud and high-quality outfits as well as a mask that left an impression on all those who saw him. The former actor became a spy during the war. Now, he was a charming gentleman and Interpol mage who garnered celebrity-like attention in the press. There was no more secrecy about his accomplishments. He got the hero's limelight, and he loved it.

Sonnetto, on the other hand, rebuffed journalists. She did not like having her photo taken or seeing her face in the news. He assumed that it was because of that one time a journalist mistook her as one of the criminals they took in. It must have left such a bitter impression on her, he figured.

Tanya was the same way but for very different reasons. Tanya was the infamous Devil of the Rhine. Sonnetto, who did not serve during the war, could not have possibly understood how much power and responsibility Tanya had in her past life as a soldier for Germania. The Devil of the Rhine was probably the most powerful woman on the continent back in the 20s, second maybe only to Olympia Magnus in Magna Rumeli.

Regardless, Masquerade was more than happy to address the press on behalf of the team. He wanted to be someone for a change and could not imagine ever returning to intentional obscurity.

Then, the MAA agents called Sonnetto to come up and present her papers.

It took only a moment for Masquerade to notice this was going to be a problem. Agent Nichts usually smoothed this over by contacting the Albish agency beforehand to know Sonnetto would be coming through, but Masquerade had forgotten. As the de facto leader while Nichts was under observation by the Interpol scientist Agent U, the thespian quickly realized their leader did a whole lot of work that went unnoticed.

The MAA agent called for a "random check" on Sonnetto that totally wasn't because she was Bactrian, had "tattoos", and had no last name. It did not help that she did not have a translator, forcing her to write her responses and that the Germanian Candidate incident resulted in heightened paranoia.

"Sir, we—" Masquerade started as he tried to help Sonnetto.

"Are you this woman's husband?" another MAA agent inquired.

"No, but—."

"Then stand back, sir."

"She and I are Interpol."

"Sir, Albion is a country of laws. National laws. Interpol has to respect them."

Masquerade stepped back before he made things even worse for the team.

This was going to be a long day. As penance for this oversight, Masquerade swore to the goddess that he would start learning sign language. Not having Tanya around really made things a lot harder in many ways, and he felt scummy for not being able to communicate effectively with his teammate he had known for years without a piece of paper.

Calamity and Fang walked up next to him to watch from the sidelines as Sonnetto got grilled. The white-haired Interpol officer had to declare and show all her weapons, which led to a comical sight as she proceeded to take off her coat and pull out her arsenal from her arms. Sonnetto had clearance to travel with all of these items, but the looks on the MAA officer's faces as she pulled out a whole-ass katana, which Agent Nichts had gifted Agent Sonnetto for her "birthday", was priceless. When Masquerade had asked why Tanya gave her housemate such an impractical weapon, the blonde answered that Sonnetto's circle of friends obsessed over swords.

The American pipsqueak took this moment to state what was on her mind."I am glad we are finally in a country where I can understand people. Well, mostly. Some of the words are funny here. Like you misspell a lot of words."

"Not helping, Calamity."

"What is going on?" Fang questioned in Germanian.

Fang only knew Zhangzi and Germanian, as well as a smattering of words from other languages. The only true polyglot on the team was Tanya, who spent a lot of her free time learning languages in order to "upskill". Masquerade had a pretty healthy repertoire, with that one notable exception.

As Masquerade explained things in two languages, another security agent bumped into him.

"Watch where you are going?"

"Sorry, sir," she answered before walking to other agents to discuss something. Sonnetto got let through immediately after that.

After the Mages of Interpol 15 exited the airport, Masquerade's instincts told him to check his vest pocket. There he found a small envelope that wasn't there earlier. It simply read: "From Russy with Love."

The thespian knew precisely who had helped them and felt apprehensive immediately. He hoped Tanya was faring better than he was.

---

Berun, Germania - 2nd of February, 1950

Mary Sue fidgeted by the door to the holding cells.

"Investigator S, you know you are allowed to visit her?"

The angelic veteran turned around to see Agent U, the chief scientist for Interpol HQ.

The scientist continued. "I am busy having to work on a few projects for the League of Nations, and Captain W would probably appreciate any visitors right now."

"What if she gets mad at me again?" the extremely magically altered Legadonian confessed.

"Why would she be mad? You have finished all your casework, haven't you?"

"I have, I have. I just want to be Captain Weiss' friend. I don't know how to put it, but it feels like the Lord keeps guiding me to her. Perhaps she is a kindred spirit."

Agent U gave Sue a dubious expression. "I would lay off the religion talk around her."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"Oh…," the brunette muttered morosely while her wings drooped before perking up again. "Okay, I can do this!"

Agent U shook her head and opened the door to the holding room for Mary Sue.

Inside, a tall man with a mullet of black hair stood next to Tanya von Weiss' cell, saying his goodbyes.

"Captain Weiss," Agent U called from the door.

"Yes?" "Yes, ma'am?" the two people responded in tandem.

Tanya looked at the man. "You haven't been a Captain in forever."

"Think about my perspective. Someone calling you Captain feels wrong."

The two laughed before the man left. His gaze lingered on Mary Sue for a moment, both in shock at her appearance but also like he could just not quite place her.

"I am sorry for staring; I didn't mean to offend," he started with curiosity in his voice. "I can't help but feel like we met before."

Mary Sue calmed her nerves around the tall man with a well-defined jawline before answering. "I don't mind you staring, sir. I mean, I wish other people did not stare so much, but you….Lord, help me. This is harder to say than usual. What I should be saying is that I don't think we met, but I would be happy to talk to you more."

"I would not mind talking. There is a lot I am curious about, and I could really use someone to help explain things. My name is Matheus Johann Weiss."

"Mary Sue," she replied, extending her hand as was custom when she was a child, which he correctly took in a handshake. He is such a gentleman. Matheus even knows how to greet a lady! "I am an investigator here."

"An investigator? That is wonderful. You crack any big cases?"

He has eyes like he just sees you for you, the investigator thought to herself. I could be lost in them forever.

Before Mary Sue could answer, Captain Weiss shouted out from her cell. "You are keeping Olga waiting, Matheus!"

"Oh, sorry, got to go. I will be sure to speak to you later, Investigator Sue."

As he ran off to meet Olga, the brunette's wings drooped once more. "Is Olga his wife?" she inquired Tanya von Weiss.

"No, his mother," the blonde replied matter-of-factly.

Sue's wings perked up again. "So he is single?"

"...Yes," Tanya stated with a look of growing concern.

"You two are related, right? What does he like?"

"Officer Sue…he is my father. Please don't ask me to help you with a relationship doomed before it began."

"Your father? Then…he was married?"

"He has never married."

"Out of wedlock? He seemed more gentlemanly than that."

"I am not a bastard, Investigator Sue….I actually might be, but not because of him."

"Then what are you?"

"I am a war orphan."

"So he adopted you. When did you meet him?"

"...when I was ten years old."

"And he was with you until you became an adult?"

"Technically."

Matheus may have served in the rear, but Tanya served in the war, too, right? Am I missing something important? Oh, Tanya must have been at the conscription age when the war broke out. I might not like the Empire for being warmongers, but Tanya and Matheus are good people, even if they fought for the wrong side.

"Wow, he is quite the father," she declared.

The blonde quietly muttered swears before addressing her coworker. "Why are you here anyways, Investigator Sue? Have you finished your casework?"

"Yes! Why do people keep asking me that?"

"Experience."

"...Regardless, I am here to spend time with you. I thought you might be all alone in the cell."

"Okay. You are here. Now what."

Mary Sue did not think that far. She was hoping Tanya had a plan for what they could do together.

Captain Tanya von Weiss looked physically ill, and Mary swore she saw a silver spark where Tanya held the bars of her cell. After letting go of the bars, Tanya paced around the cell a bit like a miserable caged animal, like she would die if she remained alone in captivity too long.

Sue decided to break the ice with the first idea that came to her head.

"I thought you would tell me about your war experience."

"...It is confidential."

"All of it?"

"All of…." Tanya was about to reply with an agitated bluntness that was more pronounced for some reason before sighing. "There is something that I can share."

Was Tanya some kind of spy? That would explain why she gets so prickly when people bring up her past when I talk to her. Her life probably depends on keeping her secrets to herself.

Mary Sue's mind went to those spy thrillers with those sexy guys playing the lead role. Tanya would be one of the background characters or one of the women….

The investigator banished the rude thought as her attention returned to the blonde in the real world.

"Do you know what it was like in a Russy PoW camp during the war?" Tanya inquired with faux nonchalance as she looked around the

Mary Sue went wide-eyed. She knew that the Russy did not follow a lot of the rules of war. It had always bothered her a lot. Did they even have PoW camps? Then her mind remembered one. Mary had heard about it when Drake and Mikhail met with a mysterious and supposedly very attractive Germanian spy mage. Those three negotiated a temporary truce. They had not let Mary Sue get involved, so that was all she knew.

Was Tanya the spy they met?

The world of mages was relatively small, given how small of a percentage of the population mages and their families were. The chances that Tanya, who had such captivatingly gorgeous hair, blue eyes, and a face like the Lord had sculpted her himself, was the Germanian spy did not seem such a stretch. Even though Tanya never acted sexy and only wore outfits that understated her looks while on the job, Mary always thought Tanya looked great.

Sue wanted to spend time with another female mage doing fun civilian things again. Perhaps Tanya and Sonnetto would sometimes take her to one of the bars or clubs they went to after work. Maybe then she will find a guy like Matheus.

Now that I think about it, Tanya and Sonnetto are totally spies. It just makes sense when I think about all the mystery around their pasts. I should ask Captain Müller what she thinks of my theory after I finish spending time with Captain Weiss.

Then again, maybe not. My captain is all the paperwork. I can't imagine her caring at all about this spy stuff. She had the most boring job of being a spotter for artillery, and it shows in all the work she had me do.

Colonel Drake's nephew might like hearing my theory better. He seems to enjoy drama and suspense. I will ask him when he gets back.

As the Legadonian contemplated all of this, her opinion of Tanya von Weiss swelled. She barely even registered the serious story the blonde was trying to tell her.

---

Albish Royal Museum - 4th of February, 1950

Kvetoslava Narcassus popped her neck and then nodded to her fellow Angels. They scaled the museum discreetly and stationed themselves on the skylights above the wing of the museum, where curators moved the collections in preparation for the coming heist. Their mundie leader, Tanechka, did not go on missions with them but watched over them with a magically remote-controlled drone, which had nifty night vision magic. Intel and Tanechka's drone confirmed that Interpol had only deployed one sniper. It was Kvetoslava's job to apply that information and get them to the skylight safely.

Her contribution to the operation did not stop there. As the angels used their glass cutters, Kvetoslava readied her little surprise — sleeping gas.

At one point in her life, the woman had been a botanist. She specialized in studying the medicinal qualities hidden in nature. Despite supporting the Revolution, the Russy Federation ultimately decided to send her to the Gulag for her magical ability and bourgeoisie academic background. The war had forced her homeland to change its policies concerning mages. They took her from the Gulag and experimented upon her to create more powerful aerial mages. Like the other mages in her unit, she grew horns, but as if the magic could detect her inner nature, narcissus flowers grew out of her head and became part of her hair. Like the other Angels in the Albion team, she sported elven ears. Tanechka had saved her and the other Night Witches and gave her a way to channel her love of botany for justice.

Kvetoslava Narcassus, commissioned from Naze
Imagine w/ Winter Clothes​

After her teammates had removed the glass silently, the horned Angel dropped her sleeping gas bombs down. By the time the guards knew what was going on, the gas had knocked them out cold. The Angels all activated their specialized oxygen spells that would filter out Kvetoslava's weapon and descended into the museum.

If everything went to plan, those pesky Interpol agents would fall right into their trap even if they did not succumb to the sleeping gas.

---

Masquerade discussed the plans for the break-in they expected would strike in a few days with the curators while Sonnetto and Fang struggled to follow along. Neither of them knew Albish, and it made this job all the more challenging to get everyone on the same page.

"This Rumeli collection is dedicated to the Parthenos, or virgin incarnation, of the Goddess," the curator explained. "It has immense cultural value to Western history. You must protect it as—"

"Sei mal still," Fang called out, silencing the man. The martial artist turned his head side-to-side, trying to figure out what he heard.

Looking into the next, Masquerade noticed a guard yawn and slump to the ground. Not knowing if the guard had just perished or not, the former spy did what he thought was the wisest.

"Run, we have to run. Towards that exit."

Sonnetto, who always acted instantly upon command, left the building first.

Bang!

The Interpol had no chance to react as she got taken out by an anti-tank sniper round hit her.

"Fuck!" Masquerade swore as he held back the curator and Fang with an arm, blocking their path before they were next.

---

Sweat dripped down Agent Fang's neck as he saw the body of Agent Sonnetto regenerative from a sniper round to the head. Had he moved one step ahead of her, that would have been him. Masquerade and he stood beneath the overhang of the museum's entrance as the thieves loaded their van where they did not have a good angle or the effective range to interfere. The sniper had to be in one of the buildings around them. If they moved, they would meet Sonnetto's fate and did not have the same regenerative abilities.

When Agent Nichts led the team, Sonnetto never got hurt this badly. Their commander had great leadership instincts as well as skills that come from a lifetime of experience.

Masquerade stood there indecisive, and he could feel it.

"What should we do?" Agent Fang inquired.

"Uh…I," the man stammered.

Bang. Shakes.

The two flinched and then braced themselves as the ground shook.

Agent Calamity Amb transmitted into their computation orbs. Fang didn't need an orb to channel his mana, but he did need to communicate over a distance. The problem was he did not understand Albish. He could not wait for Agent Nichts to select a permanent member who could speak Germanian. Amb only knew a bit of "Pennsylvania Platts Germanian" and some phrases she picked up from a place called Tomball, so she just used Albish.

Masquerade held his scepter like a microphone and responded to their American friend.

"What is going on?"

"She knocked out one of the elves, but one of them had brown hair and erected some kind of stone barrier."

"An Earth Mover?"

"Yeah, have you encountered them before?"

"Yes, but I did not know Europeans had any elemental users."

"Well, the Russy drew their mages far and wide after they changed policy during the war. Tanechka's Angels are former Russy spies and aerial mages turned vigilantes when they decided the Russy Federation did not meet their ideals in 1931. Tanechka, who was a political officer at the time, and her acquired intelligence officers played a major role in the Second Revolution in the Federation."

"That is a lot to take in, but I must ask, aren't vigilantes supposed to be civilians who attempt to enforce the law at least?"

"Not these. They are more the higher ideal types. When they think a law is unjust, they simply do not abide by it and will enact their vision of justice."

"Okay," Fang nodded, taking in the weird politics at play in this operation. "So, will Agent Amb going to take out that sniper soon? They are going to get away at this rate."

"I hope so."

---

Amber Canary, better known as Calamity Amb, rapidly scanned the horizon. Female Russy snipers were among the best in the world. The Interpol officer could determine her opponent was one of those vaunted specialists by the sound of the anti-tank rifle they had fired — the PTRS-41, to be precise, and Calamity always was. Only the Russy snipers used that weapon, and when you spent so much time with a gun, you tended to stick with it.

By thinking like how a Russy sniper would and using the intel of where she could get a line of sight on Sonnetto but not Masquerade and Fang, Calamity determined where the other sniper probably would be.

"Agent M, I need you to give our buddy something to shoot at."

He put up a duplicate of himself that got shot immediately and disappeared. The flash from the enemy sniper's rifle gave Amb confirmation she selected the suitable building. Counter-sniping at night sucked, but the area was well-lit by city lights, and Calamity was the best… second-best sniper in the world. Her rival, Lady Death, was the only better one. If Lady Death had been there, they would have all been dead already.

Banishing that thought, Agent Amb looked down her sights of her 1898 Krag, which had a handy dandy side loader she enjoyed, and confirmed her target and her weapon.

"Agent M, I have eyes on the sniper…."

"Can you take the shot?"

"Yes…."

"What is wrong?"

"She isn't a mage."

"Bugger! Are you sure?"

"She is not using a mage rifle."

"Do you think our barriers will be able to handle it?"

"Neither of you is capable of taking a shot from an anti-material rifle like this."

It went without saying, "Unlike Tanya". Sonnetto could technically deploy a barrier spell that could absorb a shot. Still, Masquerade's failure of leadership ended with the homunculus out for a few minutes, which was plenty of time for their targets to get away.

Now, if the Russy had brought a Lahti L-39, not even Tanya could take that. And if she can, then hopefully, she has mercy on this world as its new overlord.

Calamity remembered how this heist started. The thieves had rushed security, knocking them out from the inside with knockout gas. While that had been nonlethal, the Russy's weapon of choice was nothing but deadly. By the time they responded, the sniper had them pinned to their cover.

She heard Fang and Masquerade discuss things on the other side of the communication spell.

Calamity could not use a computation orb like them due to a lightning strike that fused her (and her sister) with one of their father's foci back in 1842. Fortunately, she could still use a limited repertoire of spells without one, including the pretty basic short-range communication spell, which good up to an American mile. On the plus side, she had the powers of an 1840 model industrial-level computation orb anywhere she went without the risk of it ever being deactivated or taken away from her. The major downside was that the modern orbs were significantly more powerful.

Finally, Masquerade got back to her with his orders. "You are authorized to shoot—"

Bang.

"You are clear. No other snipers spotted."

She didn't wait for the fancy dancy technical reason she could take out a mundie. Calamity Amb read the book, too. Certain threat classes justified using force to neutralize a target. What she was waiting on was their de facto shot caller, Masquerade, to finally make the call, which she required to act in this situation. Every second he wasted deliberating gave their adversaries more time to get away with the stolen museum collections.

Calamity sighed from her perch on top of a high rise. Her long magical hair bent in long arcs on either side of her and anchored her to the roof. They acted like a barrier spell to keep her safe and gave her the traction and recoil buffer she needed for her weapon. She took a moment to watch her sister of the rifle collapse dead. The world did not let women have guns often. There were fewer female snipers than there were female mages, and now there was one fewer of the former.

At the end of the day, this was part of doing the job. If she could have taken out the sniper nonlethally, she would have. Her anti-mage rounds just took out computation orbs and such. A mage without their focus was usually useless, so practically a sitting duck for other mages. A mundie with enough firepower to kill a mage was no sitting duck, though.

At least I shot her fair and square on the same playing field. She thought as she switched back to her enchanted rounds, ready to assist if the enemy mages got out of their transmuted stone dome shelter.

---

Fang watched as the getaway car started racing away. With a speed boost, the cultivator knew he could catch it, but before he could, his feet got locked in place.

It was the Earth Mover. Her long brown hair sashayed behind her as her mud-covered arms channeled transmutation magic. She had a computation orb somewhere on her. Fang guessed it was probably in her bag full of museum schematics or hidden under the mud somewhere.

Zemfira Novikov, commissioned from Naze
Imagine w/ Winter Clothes​

He did not stand a chance as he got encased in a stony cocoon. No matter how much mana he put into brute forcing his way free, Fang could not outpace his opponent's onslaught. She countered him completely.

"You were willing to kill us," He called out as he made his last couple of attempts to free himself. "And you call yourselves the good guys!"

"Sometimes real justice requires getting your hands dirty."

"Stop!" he screamed. His opponent, "Zemfira Novikov" according to her file, employed truly horrifying magic. It was like being in quicksand and having stones piled on top of you simultaneously. The part of his brain that remembered being pulled underwater as a kid by a powerful undertow triggered every instinct to seek air and swim upward.

"No hard feelings" was all he heard before everything went black.

It took a few moments to realize he could breathe inside his stone coffin, presumably by intention. He did not even have any major injuries. It made it no less terrifying, though, but he would live at least.

---

Borislava Kransi walked up to her opponent. The dapper man had gone with an enchanting mask and an ornate magical scepter.

In her left hand, she wielded a silver rapier that contained her computation orb. With it, she could channel various spells designed to win in one-on-one duels. Her snake familiar Ouro clung dutifully to her off arm.

"Long time—" she began before the masked man cast a spell on her.

Then, she found herself banished into a void of stars and planets. Borislava blinked about what had just happened, and then she felt through the senses of her familiar, who could see heat and through illusions meant to trap humans. The man was still in front of her, exactly where he was before.

As Borislava started walking, her familiar noticed his owner was not actually moving despite Borislava feeling like she was. The redheaded mage "frowned" as she channeled an interference spell through her computation orb to break the enchantment, directing her intention to move to her illusory self.

If she had not known what was happening, thanks to the magical construct she specifically created to bypass illusions, Borislava would not have figured out the trick of escaping her old acquaintance's spell.

The Angel walked out of the illusion bubble with confidence. The surprise on Masquerade, or should she say, the surprise on Laurence Drake's face, was priceless.

He spawned a bunch of duplicates, but Ouro kept guiding her faithfully toward her target.

Drake saw he was had, so he switched to launching firebolts from himself and his clones. It was a clever trick to be able to send spells out of one's duplicates, granted they were within a short range of the caster.

Unfortunately for Borislava's old acquaintance, it just took a flick of her blade to generate a shield that could easily withstand his barrage. The angels used dual cores. His scepter was not meant for winning in a battle of brute force.

The redheaded mage glanced at her pacified teammate, Kvetoslava Narcassus, who hid underneath the transmuted dome for her life. Her computation orb got sniped early. While that was a nonlethal round, Parknoh got killed earlier by their countersniper. The Angel's opponents were not above lethal force either. Kvetoslava was not taking any chances until they could get a way out of this.

Which came back to her rival Laurence Drake.

"Surrender, and you and your friend live."

"No, you should surrender," he countered as sweat gave away how nervous he was. "You can't just stay under your dome forever. Eventually, backup will, or you will get shot by our Agents."

He attempted to frame this situation like a game of chicken, and Tanechka had verified they only had one sniper a while ago. The redhead knew him better than Kvetoslava, so she launched herself with a vector force spell and pinned him to the wall of their dome before he could run back into his sniper's sightline for support.

Borislava Kransi, commissioned from Naze
Imagine w/ Winter Clothes​

The elf-like Angel pressed her blade against his neck as she pulled the man's focus from his hand. A quick tap from her magically charged sword detected no more foci on his person. She smirked as she pushed the harmless man onto the ground.

"Kvetoslava, Zemfira, to me. We fly."

"What about their sniper?"

"What about them?" the redhead countered smugly.

Borislava then scooped up Kvetoslava and flew off.

From Laurence's scepter, he heard some American kid say she couldn't get a good shot on their foci. Then, she inquired if she should use lethal rounds.

Kvetoslava took their old acquaintance's focus to ease her nerves.

The kiddy sniper never took the shot. At the end of the day, that was one of the critical differences between Laurence Drake's team and them. Interpol maintained the world order defined by Western Democracy. Without their orders, they could not do what they believed was right. Tanechka's Angels embodied the spirit of the Revolution. They saw past the status quo. More importantly, they saw the rot in the system and struck it with force when necessary. The laws that only served to maintain power in the unaccountable few held no sway on them, but they would not call themselves anarchists. It was just that no country, even the new government in the Russy Federation, succeeded in bringing their dream global society into the world.

Until their dream became a reality, the world needed angels, Tanechka's Angels.

---

Outside a Flat in Londinium, Albion - 5th of February, 1950

"Why are we here again?" Calamity Amb inquired.

"To meet an old…friend of mine," Masquerade answered. "We need help if we are going to capture the Angels and get the museum's collection back."

"Uh-huh."

After their humiliating defeat, the former spy felt he had no choice but to meet with the person who put the envelope in his pocket. The two had a history together — a lot of history. Most importantly, she would know how to find the Angels and take them down. Because of her underground contacts and former affiliations, the Russy just knew things like this. Inside the envelope, the Russy contact had given him an address to meet her while he was in town. It implied they should meet alone, but his mind was focused on his Interpol operation.

He knocked on the door.

Soon, the door opened an inch as his old friend peered through the crack.

"Ah, I see you brought company," she started, using a deceptively thick Russy accent. Laurence knew she could speak the Queen's English like a native when she wanted to. "Are they going to behave themselves?"

Laurence Drake turned back to his companions. He had already explained the basics of the situation to them, so they all nodded when he repeated the question twice so all could understand.

The door closed as the chain on it was undone before it opened wildly. The Mages of Interpol 15 filed in.

They were taken aback by the person they saw. She was not a standard beauty. She was too top-heavy to be a model under the current fashion that went for thin and modest, but her looks did their job for her line of work.

"Is that blood?" Calamity reacted.

Polyxena, commissioned from Naze​

"Yes," the owner of the flat answered…flatly. "But not mine."

That makes it even worse!

Sonnetto went to get a closer look at the woman's blood-smattered weapon. It was a kopesh, Agent Masquerade guessed.

"Do you mind?" The woman glanced at the thespian for help with the invasion of her personal bubble.

After Masquerade got Sonnetto to curb her enthusiasm, the elf-like mage went back to her kitchen to wash up. "Don't open the chest," she instructed from the other room. "It is a bloody mess. I am a bit embarrassed."

Her voice did not sound the slightest bit embarrassed.

The four Interpol mages quickly turned to look at a large cooler that suddenly loomed ominously in the room.

"Are you sure we should be getting this person's help?" Calamity Amb inquired in Albish.

"Should we arrest her?" Fang followed up in Germanian.

He appeased the two and said that it was necessary. Masquerade did not like working with her either, and not only because she and he had a lot of history — an intimate history.

---

Polyxena sighed. She only wanted to meet him. It had been too long, and they had not left on good terms. She could be a convincing actor, but when she spoke honestly, her emotions just never came across clearly. It gave people the impression that she was a cold-blooded killer. Yes, she killed people, but the former spy wasn't cold-blooded. Plus, these Westerners never got her humor at all.

Her victims were people the Albish government told her that she had the license to kill. Polyxena only took jobs to kill people she believed deserved it. It was extrajudicial justice, but a lot more of that happened than anyone cared to admit.

After a short while, Laurence Drake came into the kitchen. "Do you want help?"

She was going to make a meal for just the two of them, but he had come with friends. Fortunately, they arrived early enough to adjust the recipe to accommodate more mouths to feed.

Polyxena nodded, and he got to work. They fell into a familiar rhythm of cooking together. They were making Pelmeni.

"I heard you had a confrontation with Borislava again," she stated in Russy, so they could have some more privacy. She had already confirmed his teammates did not know that language.

"How did you— Wait, never mind. Of course, you know."

"Could you pass the sea salt?" she asked.

He did so.

"She hates you, you know," Polyxena added along with the salt. She hoped it would not be too salty.

"I know that. She is never going to forgive me for persuading you to leave the Angels, is she?"

"You know it isn't that. Tanechka did that plenty herself when she decided the Second Revolution wasn't good enough. When does it stop, I asked. You just happened to be there when I needed you to be there."

"Did you two…?"

"Yes, for a time," Polyxena replied. "Then politics got in between her and me."

"Like it did with us, I guess. Poly—"

"Call me Jane Forger. We have guests. Keep my name for more intimate occasions."

"Isn't that the alias you used—"

"When we met? Yes. I am glad you remember. Today is the anniversary of that fateful day. I thought we would celebrate together."

"I am sorry—"

"Don't be."

"Can you stop interrupting me?! Why do you always have to cut me off?"

Polyxena did not answer aloud. In her heart, she knew the truth. She did not want to hear him say he was leaving her again.

They continued to work in silence until Polyxena built up the courage to get to the heart of the matter.

"You were awful last night," she stated, hating herself for not being able to convey this tactfully.

"I know."

"Awful at being a leader, I mean."

"...I know."

"Please don't be mad."

"I am not mad at you. I am mad at myself. I could have lost one of my fellow officers."

She let him sit in his emotions for a bit so he could do some much-needed processing.

"Nichts would have captured Borislava and the other Angels," he admitted.

"She would have probably killed them," she corrected, knowing the infamous communist killer by reputation alone. "What have I always told you?"

He sighed. "This is different. I am just so much worse at this than my captain. I am not cut out for a leadership role."

"You are comparing yourself again."

"How can I not?"

"Laurence, I did not fall in love with you because of what you lack. You need to focus on what makes yourself great."

"What if I am missing something I need for this role?"

"Then acquire it," Polyxena advised. "We have time."

"That is only if I survive our next encounter with the Angels."

"Who says there will be another encounter?"

"I was hoping you would help us find them."

"Who says I know where they are?"

"Jane, I know you," he firmly countered her counter while using her alias.

"You are not wrong, but I also know where the collection of Bharati and Rulemian cultural paraphernalia is."

"Then we can direct other agents to get the stolen artifacts and catch the Angels."

"That is not what is going to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Either I help you find my former Angels colleagues, or I help you find the artifacts. Not both. I am not working with anyone else in Interpol right now, and tracking either will be very involved on my end. You need to decide what you think is more important."

Laurence Drake rubbed his forehead. Polyxena liked how his face looked when he seriously got thinking. He was such a creative man who could bring such beauty into the world but painfully vain about his appearance.

She wished he could see past his perceived shortcomings. No one thing makes a person beautiful or handsome. It was a capitalist trap to always be in a state of desperately doing whatever you can to meet the standard marketing provided. If you met it, the standard would just become even more expensive to achieve, much like Tanechka's ever-moving goalpost for a sufficiently ideal society. Inside the man she loved, Polyxena saw just how deeply his insecurities ran, so infected with the need to compare himself to others.

"The Angels," he finally answered, glancing at Sonnetto in the other room. "They tried to kill my teammates, and I figured: why stop one heist when you can stop all their future ones."

Polyxena understood his logic, but she was primarily glad he had focused on what really mattered to him. "So, what is your plan?"

"I was hoping you would come up with one. We really need your help this time."

Polyxena sighed again. "Okay. This one time, since I know…I know you won't have me around all the time. You will need to be able to do this someday, especially if you want to be the XO for your eccentric team."

The two finished cooking and served the team.

Fang poked his meal and noticed the meat in it before going pale.

"Is this…?" he wondered in dread in Germanian.

"It isn't made out of mage if that is what you are asking," Polyxena answered. She was offended but unsure how to express that adequately.

"Is it…?"

Fang decided to take a bite.

"It is mundie meat."

Fang spit it out all over a now very irate Calamity.

"She is joking. It is just pork."

Sonnetto pulled out some of her alchemical reagents from her pack and poured them on the food, turning the beautiful meal into the caloric soup that she could eat.

"Should I ask about that?" Polyxena inquired, gesturing towards Sonnetto's meal.

"So there is something you don't know!" Laurence joked good-naturedly. It was an ongoing joke between them because Polyxena was always a bit ahead of what was going on in the underworld.

After they finished their meal, the group headed out for the location Officer Drake's on-and-off partner guided them towards.

---

Outside an abandoned gas station, Albion - 6th of February, 1950

Kvetoslava Narcassus flipped through various magazines from the 20s while longing. This gas station had acted as one of their safe houses for years. No one went out here due to all the damage to the roads and the minefield warning signs that they put up. Who was going to question those signs? Not even the government knew that there were no mines out there.

As the elf-like woman adjusted her posture in her chair, her bladder indicated her need to use the restroom. Getting up, she made her way to the bathroom on the side. She finished her business and started washing her hands. She may be an internationally wanted criminal, but Kvetoslava Narcassus was no monster.

As she went to lather soap, the botanist saw two of herself in the mirror.

"So we meet again, old friend," her doppelganger greeted as she moved to put Kvetoslava into a restraining grip. Still, before the disguised Polyxena could, one of the flowers on the former Night Witch's head released some sleeping gas right in the assassin's face.

"How?" Polyxena wondered as she staggered in a daze.

"Some of us have learned a few new tricks, comrade."

Then, anti-climatically, the Kvetoslava-doppelganger collapsed upon the floor.

In the real Kvetoslava's case, each one of her flowers could store a simple storage and release spell that she could activate at will one time. The botanist filled each flower with an aerosol version of one of her concoctions, acting like a tool belt of sorts. She could direct the aerosol blast pretty directly and in such a way that it did not affect her. It was short-range, but as an Angel, getting into the short-range range of her target was expected.

Still, she was a Night Witch. All this botany was just a nonlethal alternative to what she was trained to do during the war. While Kvetoslava would rather only develop medicines like penicillin for the suffering masses of the world, she, like many mages who fought in the Great War as a mage, thirsted for the rush of adrenaline and power that magical combat gave her. It was like the universe had designed magic to have this addictive quality to steer its users to fight again to get their fix. Some could shake the battlelust. Kvetoslava could not.

Kvetoslava dried her hands and grabbed her old, reliable AK-27M mage rifle, which handled winter temperatures like today's with relative ease, unlike those overengineered Germanian firearms.

But there was another reason Polyxena's plan was doomed to failure; these Angels had their own angels watching them from above.

---

Unknown Location - 6th of February, 1950
Moments Earlier

Liliya Ivanova Tanechka stroked the cat in her lap as she watched the idyllic cityscape outside the penthouse suite she acquired from one of their Waldstatten patrons.

Behind her, a few of her Angels kept watch over her men and women in the field from the drone's eagle-eye view. While the original group had just been women, Tanechka branched out to include male mages in her recruitment after the Second Revolution, which produced several disenchanted revolutionaries in need of someone to point them toward justice.

"Everything is going so well. The Bharati and Rumeli should have their stolen art and history back shortly."

Tanechka was in her forties, and unlike the mages she led, it showed. It did not bother her. Each person had their role in the revolution, and the mages from the Great War had theirs.

The former political officer glanced at the painting she had commissioned on the wall. It depicted the Albish, Russy, and Germanians working together to rescue a crying, little, innocent teenage girl in a smudged dress out of a Prisoner of War camp deep in Russy territory. Even though she was Germanian and no one knew her name, her tears inspired everyone not to let the evil that set in during the First Revolution happen ever again. Saving her and giving her a future became saving the Revolution and showing the world a future. Tanechka wished the girl, who lived in the capitalist Germanian Republic, would someday know how much she contributed to spreading and renewing the cause of communism around the world.

Despite his adherence to the decadent liberal democratic world order, Tanechka could not hold any antipathy towards Laurence Drake. In 1931, his intel played a significant role in letting her know about the poor girl in the PoW camp and Loria's disgusting abuse of power that had resulted in her capture. No one had thankfully laid a hand on her at the camp as she was to be shipped out of the camp to Moskva "in mint condition", but the girl had been in partial isolation for a month in that PoW camp. All she had to do was the occasional age-appropriate children's activity. The only silver lining was the girl had no idea what was in store for her if she had not been rescued.

The former political officer had provided the exact coordinates of the camp's location to a female Imperial spy she vaguely remembered as the one suspected of supplying European alcohol to high-ranking party officials in exchange for intel. Regardless, this Imperial spy and the multinational group thankfully negotiated a temporary truce to let Imperial mages rescue the PoWs. When Tanechka saw the teenage girl come out of her dollhouse-like cell room, she was nearly inconsolable. How the little girl clung to a female Imperial mage like her life depended on it would forever be etched into Tanechka's brain.

From there, it was just rooting out the new aristocracy in proletariat garb that had twisted the glorious communist country into something vile. The mages who rallied to Tanechka's cause were more than happy to get their vengeance. The former political officer took out Loria personally.

Unfortunately, even the Second Revolution had ended in such a disappointing turn of events. They just started gravitating towards the conservative wing's market socialism and gave up on the goal of a communist utopia. When Tanechka decided she had no choice but to splinter off and do her own thing, the Russy government was exploring the far-right position of social democracy — the horror.

"Um, Madam Tanechka," one of the Angels monitoring the drone called out, waking the Russy non-mage from her memories.

"What is it?"

The Angel moved aside to show his computation orb, displaying Laurence and his ragtag team of Interpol Mages "discreetly" as they trudged through the snow toward one of Tanechka's best teams. Then, the Angel controlling the drone zoomed in on Polyxena. Now it made sense how her team got found so easily.

"Contact the Albion team. Let them know an old friend has come to visit and rudely brought some company with her."

Tanechka's pet her cat, who was as white as snow. The feline let out a satisfied purr. I wonder if kitties still think they are the Apex predators even when they meet lions? She asked in amusement.

---

Outside an abandoned gas station, Albion - 6th of February, 1950
Back to the Present

Snow gently fell on the ground, painting the world in a void of white ubiquity as Sonnetto watched Kvetoslava dump the unconscious body of "Jane Forger" on the ground. The Angels knew Interpol was coming and took out the green-suited assassin with ease. Now, the elf-like mages had already taken defensive positions.

"What is the plan now?" Fang urgently inquired from their XO Masquerade.

"We improvise," he answered. Then he saw the flower mage fly in the direction of Calamity Amb's nest in the distance. "Sonnetto, intercept that Night Witch!"

Sonnetto threw off her white coat, activated a spell suite to keep her warm and give her flight, and catapulted into the air before Agent Masquerade could finish speaking.

She was not reckless, just intuitive. Her housemate had trained her to predict commands to respond instantly, and in the world of mage fights, milliseconds meant everything.

The Night Witch had a dual-core. Sonnetto's physiology and alchemically synthesized spells only had the innate firepower of a mono core if one excluded her arsenal of grenades and other weapons she stored in her tattoos. Teamwork with their mage gunner would be essential if they wanted to take out a legendary Night Witch. The redhead Borislava might be their enemy's ace, but all of them were Named mages in their own right with magetech to match.

---

"Calamity" Amber Canary was doomed. Soon, a Night Witch would be upon her location with near laser-like precision. One explosion formula to her gunner nest, and she would be toast. The munchkin should pray to her Lord and Savior for survival.

Luckily, the gun nut's chosen god was the Ma Deuce, the longest-serving firearm in the Unified States history. This .50 cal machine gun came with a tripod mount. This big girl gun (she was not compensating, she assured herself) could easily send a barrage of optical formulas when woman'd by a mage. It could even down a Russy aerial mage using those Russy dual cores, which boasted the highest-grade barrier spells in the world during the Great War.

Her output might be limited to the 1840s magetech when it came to spellcraft, but she still had the hefty magical reserves necessary to infuse machine gun fire for an hour of active combat in a warzone. Each shot of the Ma Deuce used significantly less magic than what she applied even when wielding her beloved Colt .45 revolver by necessity, but the point was quantity, not quality.

The problem remained that this was no mere Russy aerial mage but a magically modified and Named Night Witch. Named mages were the best of the best. People peed their pants when they encountered these juggernauts on the battlefield. While Amber had not peed herself in over a century, she took no chances in her battle against the great Kvetoslava.

The mage, whose age had gotten locked in as a child like she was trapped in the amber her father named her after, increased the flow of magic into her Ma Deuce. Even a small increase in mana per shot, when multiplied over 450-600 rounds per minute, would hit her reserves hard. What had been an hour's worth of power before mana exhaustion set in became only thirty seconds. Amber made sure that her shots had both the range and power to quickly take out the enemy mage before Kvetoslava got in range to incinerate her. Amber's eyes glowed a bright golden color as the flow of mana made every cell in her body sing in battlelust.

The Night Witch made evasive maneuvers immediately, predicting her more threatening before they happened somehow. Calamity couldn't get enough shots on her target. Sonnetto, who had been tailing the Angel, then slammed herself into the barrier of their enemy, slowing down the target.

Calamity pulled up her gun to avoid her teammate.

"Agent S—"

Beep

It was the contextual beep Sonnetto used to indicate that she should fire. Her pistols couldn't possibly pierce the Night Witch's barrier, so Sonnetto must have thought that if she sacrificed herself, she could save the Tejan she barely knew. Calamity stomach-churned as her teammate risked the unknown limits of her regeneration abilities to save the gunslinger. Moving her fire back on target, Calamity used the opportunity before her sacrifice was in vain.

"You got to live through this, Agent S…Sonnetto."

Amber Canary would never forget her even if the homunculus survived. She just hoped the rest of her teammates could manage without her support as mana exhaustion took hold of the small mage.

---

Fang's locked onto the Earth Mover. Even if he tried to get airborne now with his technique to summon a small flying nimbus under his feet, the martial artist would get shot to pieces standing still doing so. He needed Agent Masquerade to make a decision and fast. Nothing was going to plan.

"Take out Borislava's snake. I have an idea. I will keep Zemfira occupied."

The martial artist steeled his nerves. Defeating a dual-core pro like Borislava Kransi would be nearly impossible for him. He knew Nichts was excellent, but even she had to pull out her Type-95 during the war to fend off the mage, who was practically the living embodiment of the Red Army's fighting spirit. His chances of survival depended heavily on whatever Masquerade came up with since his ex-girlfriend's plan fell to pieces.

Borislava flicked snow off her blade as the two combatants circled each other. Her barrier shimmered around her, and green lightning crackled on her blade, indicating a spell was preloaded and ready to be launched at him. Underneath the redhead's fur cap and goggles, her emerald eyes locked onto each of his movements, searching for a moment of weakness.

It shocked Fang how easily he could read her. Why did he not feel as intimidated as he should? The image of the Eleventh Goddess, Tanya von Weiss, flying through the air after he kicked her ass flashed in his mind.

After that, I know the situation can always be worse than whatever Borislava has planned for me.

Fang saw a weakness first in the tiny window when Borislava glanced at the location of "Jane Forger" and launched himself at her. The redhead unleashed a blast of fire at him. With his magical acceleration at near full tilt, he had a minute of hyper-fast reactions. Fang's hands coated themselves in ki. He had fought elemental users in his home country. Even though this was just a Russy-aristocrat-variant of the explosion formula, the underlying elemental forces remained the same. He grabbed the fire with his ki magic and twisted around himself. The snow around him melted instantly, and the dormant plant matter actually burst into flames. Then he directed the torrent of flames upwards into the air harmlessly. Fang could feel his eyebrows get singed from the heat. He might not be an elemental user, but his master in Zhangzi had prepared him for this.

All this took almost a second for him to do as he continued his vector to his opponent's location. As for Borislava, she was not too surprised, as if she had seen someone do this before, but Fang still had her on the back foot. She had intended that nasty spell for her masked rival. Then Masquerade had switched up the matchups in a split-second decision.

Fang sent a ki-fueled flying kick toward the former Russy Aristocrat. She blocked it with a point barrier and took to the air. The black-haired martial artist landed in a roll and applied a vector upon himself to send him into cover inside the gas station. If Borislava stayed in the air, she would have to take down the entire building, and he might not survive. If she landed again, he would be on an even playing field again.

He started summoning his flying nimbus. Then, looking at Jane Forger in her green suit lying nearby, Fang hoped that the Russy ace would not kill them both. He had not considered that his maneuver would put their morally questionable ally in danger when he did it.

---

Masquerade initiated almost instinctively with his bubble illusion spell. His opponent, Zemfira the Earth Mover, did not stay inside it long.

"And I thought you were the clever one?" the brunette called out as she simply applied magical interference to escape his spell.

Laurence Drake took to the air. His opponent specialized in non-lethally but traumatically neutralizing her opponents in stone on the ground. Both sides had started on the ground without their flight formulas active in order not to alert the other side of their awareness of the other. Flight magic was notoriously loud and a dead giveaway of their intention to fight. Plus, the Interpol Agents knew that their opponents had some way to detect them. They wanted to minimize magic usage. They assumed their opponent had some kind of Magic Detection and Ranging machine (madar) similar to what many cities used to help with rapid response to magical terrorist activity. The Angels were always so good at knowing where their mages were, and that was the only thing that made sense.

Magic Technicians did not even grade his scepter as a mono-core when it came to offensive power, but he was loaded with countless illusions and tricks to throw off his opponents. Like Polyxena told him, he needed to get creative.

Tanya had once shown him a set of martial arts techniques designed to turn his opponent's power against them. This gave him another idea to get to his Hail Goddess end move to take out Borislava to work. As he dodged Zemfira's hail of stones, Masquerade waved his focus in the air, conjuring a fog over the Earth Mover and him.

---

Fang did not know why, but the redhead mage did not blow the gas station sky-high. This gave him time to get his tiny cloud of air magic formed. Being able to fly was essential for combatting mages in the modern world. He thanked his master for teaching him this ancient technique.

The martial artist zoomed out of the gas station into the snowy arena of his fight. Before Fang could make contact again with Borislava, a mist rushed past them. When it cleared, he saw Masquerade, where Borislava once was. Even the magical signature Fang detected read just like thespian's.

Then an unexpected hail of magically-infused stones impacted against Masquerade…no disguised Borislava's shield. The communist exclaimed in Russy for her teammate to stop, but to no avail. Upon impact, the spell placed upon the stones caused them to turn into mud and covered the entirety of the mage shell, forming a mud ball. Then the mud transmuted back to stone and drove the unfortunate Borislava back into the ground where Zemfira would normally start encasing her opponent in a dense, stony prison.

The Earth Mover halted her attack, though when she figured out she had been had. As the redhead pulled herself out of her cocoon of stone, Fang attempted to kick her with enough magical disruption to knock out the Angels' ace. His nimbus carried him at incredible speed towards his target. No matter how he attacked, it would always be under him to hold him aloft.

Borislava still blocked his attack with a point barrier, but this left her snake familiar vulnerable. He applied a vector force on himself to spin his orientation until he was upside down, and his nimbus rapidly reversed direction. On the way back into the sky whence he had come, Fang snatched the snake, and the magical disruption inherent in ki strikes did the rest.

Fang sighed in relief at accomplishing his part of the mission.

Or so he thought.

"Swap targets with me, Fang."

The martial artist mentally gulped as he dreaded fighting the Earth Mover again. Then he remembered he was aloft, and his opponent had just expended most of her magic grounding Borislava.

It's time for my revenge, Zemfira.

---

Borislava spun around to reorient herself as she fully emerged from her teammate's attack. Her training told her to keep focused on her enemies, but her heart steered her glance back to check that Polyxena was safe. There, she saw Masquerade with his focus pointed at the former Angel's head.

"You wouldn't dare!" the redhead screamed in Russy.

"Would I? I took her away from you once. I can take her away from you for good."

With that, Laurence Drake blasted Polyxena with a firebolt that would kill an unconscious person, mage, or otherwise.

Borislava's reason told her not to, but again, her heart rejected everything her mind was telling her. All she saw was red when she charged the man. The ace funneled every last drop of mana she had into the tip of her rapier and closed the gap as quickly and forcibly as possible. She went through the illusion of Masquerade like a bull going through the cape of a matador, and her momentum carried her over to the wall of the gas station. Her spell consumed the building instantly in a massive explosive blaze. Overkill for a person, but overkill had been what her heart demanded of her.

As mana exhaustion took in and the catharsis of releasing that emotion in the form of a spell had, her reason reminded Borislava that even though she hated Laurence, he would never kill a person if he could reasonably avoid it.

---

Masquerade sighed as he limped away with Polyxena's body. He had fallen and sprained it when Borislava's spell released a concussive blast in his direction. The two mages would be okay, but his ears were still ringing.

Soon, they would have the non-mages in Interpol help them round up the captured mages.

Knowing the Angels quite well, they probably would get a nice bargain for their release. Tenachka tracked a lot of bad people but just did not have the resources to bring them to justice. Interpol did. The mastermind behind the Angels would broker some kind of truce, temporary or otherwise, to save her people from sentencing. The non-mage had a talent for getting people to see her point of view and work together, especially after her defection from the party during the war.

Agent Masquerade did not know if doing his job that day made the world a better place, but he also did not want to live in a world without laws. Part of democracy was working with people you did not like. Sometimes, those people were in charge. They made laws you disagreed with. At the end of the day, apprehending the Angels was the bargain he made to ensure stable democracy existed in his homeland and abroad.

---

Interpol HQ in Berun - February 9th, 1950

Mary Sue ran through what she heard from Captain Weiss about her experience as a Prisoner of War. It sounded outlandish. Tea parties, pretty dresses, and dolls? Really? The woman made taking naps all day and having nothing substantive to do for a month sound like torture. Some people Mary Sue knew did that for years.

Like Sue knew, computation orb withdrawal was a thing. The angelic woman had experienced it too occasionally when she spent too much time doing paperwork. Perhaps Captain Weiss was just extra sensitive to not feeling powerful, she figured.

Or perhaps the blonde, fedora-wearing woman just was that much of a workaholic that doing nothing really did hurt her.

Investigator Sue sighed. She had kept her thoughts to herself because seeing Tanya struggle just being in a cell for a few days had made it clear the woman had an actual problem. People needed to take breaks and relax in order to heal and let the body and mind grow stronger. Tanya seemed almost allergic to time alone with her thoughts.

Perhaps I should help Captain Weiss find a boyfriend? Investigator Sue pondered. Then, she would have someone to spend time with and relax.

When Officer Drake and his team arrived back home, Mary Sue and Captain Weiss stood near the entrance to greet them.

"Sonnetto!" Tanya cried as she glomped onto her housemate.

"What is she doing?" Investigator Sue inquired.

"I believe she calls it recharging," Investigator Drake clarified with a curious expression.

Sonnetto took off Tanya's hat and just started sifting through her golden locks with her hand.

Mary Sue could see the stress melt of the Captain.

As for Matheus Johann Weiss, the man was staying with his parents while Sonnetto and his daughter/not-daughter were away from home.

The brunette Legadonia shrugged and decided to head off to give the two very friendly roommates some space because it was getting awkward.

"Where are you going, Sue?" Captain Weiss demanded.

"Uh…Home?"

"I thought you said you were going to join us when we went to our favorite club," the Interpol officer pointed out.

She did say something like that, didn't she? It could be an opportunity to find love.

Tanya is definitely less grumpy now. I swore she hated me for a while there, but my visits definitely helped her health.

---

Dolores Grey on Yorchstraße, Berun - February 9th, 1950

"There are literally no boys here."

"That is kind of the point," Sonnetto signed, which Tanya translated in real-time. "But that isn't completely true. There are some."

The only man she saw in the whole establishment was a portrait of Oscar Wilde, and Mary Sue swore some of the women here carried a more masculine aura than him.

It took a while, but Mary Sue did spot a few men in the Dolores Grey. Guys were the clear minority. Apparently, in the past, there were a lot more that frequented the establishment until ownership shifted to a woman and her good friend. She would have walked up to the men, but they just seemed busy talking with each other and not interested in talking to her.

The Dolores Grey club boasted itself for having the newest bands perform there on occasion, with gorgeous decorations and international clientele. The "rock and roll" music being performed just sounded like noise to Mary Sue, but Tanya seemed to find it not the slightest bit revolutionary. The only saving grace for the establishment was the way everyone just accepted that she was the walking embodiment of an angel. As the name of the establishment suggested, long-lived mages, like all those who fought in the Great War, were welcome here, though still the minority. That meant, for once, Mary Sue did not feel like an outsider or a weirdo around people.

The brunette even saw two adult women practicing kissing together. Mary Sue used to do that with one of her friends, but only when she was a teenager, and so she would be ready for a boyfriend. It was fun, of course. Girls were beautiful, after all, but at the end of the day, Mary Sue wanted to get married…and capture the Devil of the Rhine. She can't forget that last part.

Mary Sue was glad Tanya and Sonnetto didn't practice kissing like that. Her colleague with tattoos seemed just to enjoy being there for the blonde. Tanya, on the other hand, clearly looked excited and kept introducing Mary to people she had met in the past. Everyone also seemed to have an opinion about Tanya. Some were good, some not so good.

One woman even warned Mary Sue to be careful with the blonde because "you really have to know what you are getting yourself into and shouldn't commit to a relationship with her if you are not ready to support her". The Legadonian did not know what to make of that advice. She knew Tanya struggled a lot now after spending a few days visiting her cell and talking to the Germanian war vet, but that was what friends were for, right?

Tanya nudged Mary to get her attention. "Are you not having fun?" she inquired.

"I mean, the decorations are good, but…," she answered. She did not want to say she wasn't having fun.

While Tanya looked bummed out, they decided to let Mary Sue pick the next establishment.

Mary Sue's first pick was a bar down the street where women would not be welcome for some reason, which Tanya did not bother explaining.

The next was a Gentlemen's Club, which women could only enter if a man invited her inside and paid for her. Sue struggled to understand why married men would go there after work and wondered what they were doing that they did not want their wives to know. Tanya claimed it was labor union stuff, but Sonnetto said in some places, the guys would hire strippers and complain about their wives.

"Okay, Mary Sue," Tanya finally gave up going to places Mary Sue selected from nearby. "Where do you normally go?"

"Well, I don't know if you will like it," the brunette admitted.

"After taking you to Dolores Grey, which I was pretty sure would not be your cup of coffee, I think it is only fair that I see where you have fun."

"Okay…."

---

"Welcome! I see we have a returning enlightened soul and also two new faces. I must ask: have you two accepted our Lord and Savior Xanu?"

"Nope. Yeah, you were right. Let's get out of here!"

Tanya had only taken one step inside the religion-oriented club and immediately turned around. They might have free food, but it wasn't worth it, according to the blonde.

"We could always go to the Oases on Bülowstraße," Sonnetto suggested. "I heard they just received the new Tōei Dōga anime Tanya wanted to see."

"Will there be guys?" Investigator Sue inquired.

"Probably not. It is a place for girls to hang out with their girlfriends, get something to eat, and watch the most recent animated films. Is that a problem?"

Well, they were all girls and friends, so Mary Sue did not object on principle.

It was just the Legadonian did not get Tanya von Weiss or any of these women they met at all. Didn't they ever squeal in joy when a sexy guy gave them attention or fantasize while reading romance novels? Like always, it felt like she was missing something fundamental about Tanya von Weiss, and the Legadonian could never quite put her finger on what that was.

Captain Weiss got that smile again as she leaned toward Mary Sue. "I really gotta show you anime. There are only a handful of them, but the Oases have them on display as their gimmick. I want to know if you like it. Sonnetto doesn't care for them, but I have been dying to find someone to watch them with."


Lorelei's Note:
Thanks to DrkShdow for beta reading this chapter. You gave a lot of great feedback I needed to make the chapter even greater.

Thanks to Gods and Kings for advice on guns and weaponry.

Thanks to Naze, whom I commissioned the character art. Their SFW Twitter: https://x.com/NAZENANI_3634

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Lorelei Note:
There is a series in Extra set in the 1930s called "Origin of Nichts" if you want to read it. It is really depressing and does not have action and adventure like the main Mages of I15 plot. It dives deeper into the background context for character relationships in the 1950s. Important details, Tanya is adopted by Weiss and works at his family computation orb business. Other than that, things will be explained in the main story generally.

---

The Empire Surrenders, The War Is Over! - published on 21st of July, 1933 in the Londonium Times

All cheer for the end of the war. The Empire agreed to conditional surrender yesterday after a grueling battle on the shores of Normandy, where the Allied and Imperial forces were locked in a stalemate. Celebrations have already broken out in major cities across the globe.

As part of the initial peace deal brokered in Londonium, our Foreign Office has negotiated a reparations package for François that all sides believe will create a more lasting peace. "No more shall we invite war to our shores that is paid in the blood of our youth by hefting unreasonable and revanchist peace stipulations upon our enemies," the delegation's leader, Robert Buckley, told a crowd yesterday evening. Let this war be the last this continent ever sees."

---

Come to Our Old Faith Revival - published on the 2nd of September, 1933, on a pamphlet

We of the Londonium Chapter of the Old Faith welcome all who will listen. The War is over, and the Twelfth God of Faith has lost. He may be gone, but our Lord did not leave us sheep unattended, for there are the eleven other gods and goddesses among us mortals to shepherd us poor souls to greatness. We must only wait for the divine sign of their return. Some claim they will be winged angels, but scripture says they will be known by the sounds of their glorious battle with each other.

Why must these divine souls fight each other? Because the Twelfth God, who embodies faith, willed it to be so! The victor shall take their rightful place as the leader of the world. While each of these gods has mortal bodies, according to some theologians, they will be blessed with eternal youth and the power to reincarnate.

---

Germania to Blame for Mage Crime Explosion - published 30th of October, 1933 in the François Gazette

François authorities have determined that the influx of illegal computation orbs has come from Germania, where gangsters and thugs had raided poorly guarded warehouses two months prior. Magical criminals have already wreaked havoc upon the city of Oren by stealing with impunity, as conventional law enforcement lacks the means to apprehend them.

President Félix Bouhon has called on Germania to find a solution to the rogue mages or face financial penalties as stipulated under the peace treaty. Opposition party officials have already begun speaking out against what they call an act of not mere petty revenge but of war by Germania, and they have demanded the Bouhon to respond to the mages with military force. Opposition leader Georges Chiasson went so far as to demand martial law be put into place until the threat of rogue mages is resolved.

---

Coup to Reinstate Kaiser Foil: Our Hero Calls Herself Nichts, published in the Daily Spell on January 18, 1934

Yesterday, Beruners took shelter as our city was rocked by an armed mage paramilitary group calling itself the Kaiser's Men. As these mages took to the air, people ran for shelter.

Their aim was to stage a coup against the provisionary government, which was in session to ratify our new constitution. Like their name suggestion, they desired to reinstate the Kaiser to the throne. Thanks to a mysterious mage and her team of specialists, the Kaiser's Men were defeated before they could finish their plot.

Given how outnumbered these mysterious heroes were, some have come to see their victory as a miracle from God. Many eyewitnesses even have said they saw a silvery angel in the sky. They further claimed that it felt like the angel beckoned them to decide for themselves what their future shall be and not let tyrants decide it for them.

The mage leading the group would not remove her helmet or goggles, and when reporters asked her for her identity, she simply answered Nichts. Other Germanian mages present refused to identify her based on her mana signature.

Experts from the Germanian military remind the public that mana signatures can sometimes repeat between individuals. They are generally applicable for identifying Named mages during the war, but they should not be used as an ironclad identifier. Mana signatures have led to false arrests in the past.

Additionally, leaders in the provisional government, including General Hans von Zettour, have instructed the public to respect the privacy of our hero and not spread rumors about her identity.

---

Web of Imperial Espionage in Congress during War - published 16th of March, 1934 in the Atlantis Magazine

Lars Rory, a former investigator for the Bureau of Investigation, has returned to the Unified States after interviewing Imperial officials in Germania. New Amsterdam Times experts have reviewed the records and interviews, and they tell us that there is strong evidence of a conspiracy between the Imperial government of Germania and members of Congress.

First, a Germanian spy whose name in the files only calls her E.M. would find vulnerable targets in the Reconstructionist party. She would offer them what their hearts desired in exchange for their participation in a propaganda campaign to turn the public against supporting the Allies in the war in Europa.

The two most significant pawns in this Imperial scheme were Senator George Londeen and the congressional staffer Ernst Hill. Londeen secretly suffered from an enormous debt due to the costly treatments his wife needed for a life-threatening condition. The Imperial spy provided him with funds and access to Imperial doctors in exchange for his participation in the conspiracy. As for Hill, he wanted women and gambling money.

E.M. would write the speeches and give them to her cadre of turned politicians and staffers. They would then read those speeches on the floor of Congress, adding them to the congressional record. Then, the staffers would have those speeches reprinted and put into franked envelopes and mail the copies of those speeches to the American people, thus spreading Imperial anti-interventionist propaganda.

The scheme barely cost the Empire a dime, as senators and representatives have the power to frank postage at the taxpayer's expense. In other words, the Americans footed the bill for spreading all the Empire's propaganda. We don't have clear estimates yet as to the full cost of this fraud upon the people of the Unified States.

Former Bureau Investigator Lars Rory's first clue of E.M.'s efforts came after the car bomb that ended George Londeen's life. While evidence points to foreign espionage behind his tragic death, investigators found the propaganda speeches miraculously untouched by the explosion. Norma Londeen went to the reporters to defend her husband's career from accusations of colluding with the Empire, but she slipped up in Rory's eyes when she admitted the speeches were not even written by her husband but by Sally Warrick. Mrs. Warrick, Rory believes, is the Imperial spy E.M.

Lars Rory claims that his investigation was not partisan in nature but based on the desire to find out the truth and a belief that the American people deserve to know it. As proof, he points to how the diligently detailed records obtained from the Imperial government indicate that the members of the Heffersonian party were in the pocket of the Allied Kingdom, which wanted the Unified States to join the war against the Empire. Imperial officials in contact with Sally Warrick suspected an Albish Spy, referred to as the Faceless Actor in these records, to be behind the death of George Londeen.

The reaction by politicians was swift. On March 13th, President Taft fired Rory from the Bureau for misappropriating government funds and abusing his authority to mount an unsanctioned investigation. Both parties claim that the influence of the Allied Kingdom and the former Germanian Empire was isolated to only a few politicians' staffers, but polls indicate that the public has lost confidence in their government.

Third-party nominee Arthur Pelley of the Silver Legion party has been holding rallies to drum up support for his campaign centered on the evils of foreign influence. Election historian Michael Nixon believes that this scandal has torpedoed Pelley into position to possibly win the election. "This will have major impacts on the survival of democracy in the Unified States as the Silver Legion have vowed to turn America into a theocracy with a dictator in charge," Nixon told Atlantic Magazine.

---

Angels Among Us - written on the 12th of May, 1935, in a letter

Karl,

I have seen one—an angel. She had wings tinged with crimson and a golden halo. Her eyes were like obsidian with golden irises. Strange arcane markings covered her unnatural alabaster skin.

If you had said before the war, people would have called you a religious lunatic, but they are real and living in plain sight. There is one in Legadonia who all can see just walking the streets.

I was able to get through her cult following, keep people from harassing her, and speak to her. She was just buying groceries, if you believe it. I asked her who she was and what the goddess had instructed her to do.

In a well-rehearsed answer, she told me that her name is Mary Sue, and she is on a mission from the Lord to find and bring justice to the Devil of the Rhine. She was human once like you and me, but her transformation into an angel occurred during her last battle with the Devil that resulted in a massive hole in Mont Blac that everyone knows about. While her magical senses have been dulled to the point that she can no longer read magical signatures, the angel Sue believes that one day she will meet the Devil again.

After listening to her followers, I am sure the goddess sent the Devil upon us to purge the unfaithful and to make people turn back to faith.

Yours Sincerely,

James O'Connor

P.S. Mary Sue isn't the only angel I have seen, though. I was in Berun with you the day that the Angel of the Silver Flame soared through the skies. We did not believe she was an angel at the time because, with what we are hearing about these cultivator mages in Zhangzi and those strange mutations among a few mages, we don't know what is possible anymore with magic. After meeting Mary Sue, I have changed my mind. I am betting you that the Angel of the Silver Flame was, in fact, a real angel. We know she is probably the hero Nichts.

---

Lergen Sentenced, but Devil Runs Free - published on 13th of July, 1935, in the Hopenhagen Courier

Erich von Lergen has been sentenced today to life in prison for war crimes, namely for his role in the Arene Massacre.

Dacian and Legadonian officials claim foul play on behalf of Germania officials. Germania has, in turn, claimed ignorance about any Devil of the Rhine among their number. The Devil of the Rhine is an infamous maged believed to have fought on every front of the war. All investigations into the matter of the Devil have so far proven fruitless as Germanian mages refuse to give any consistent answers if they answer at all. None of the records from the former Imperial government have gotten investigators any closer.

Experts claim that if the Germanians were covering up the Devil's existence, they must have started sometime early into their counteroffensive on the Eastern Front. Psychologists have even theorized that the Devil of the Rhine may be the result of some form of mass hallucination.

The Legadonia Foreign Office insists on continuing the investigation despite a lack of positive evidence beyond eyewitness testimony of our veterans.

---

Silver Legion Wins Landslide Victory - published November 28th, 1936 in the New Amsterdam Times

The monopoly of the two major parties ended when Silver Legion candidate Arthur Pelley was declared the President-Elect last night. Reconstructionist Party's nominee Richard N. Taft has told the press his "party plans to resist the Silver Legion's policies Come Hell or High Water because we are never going to let the Confederacy return."

Michael Nixon, the election historian and author of the New Amsterdam Times Bestseller It Can Happen Here, told the press that the Silver Legion's victory was due to three factors. "First is the Silver Legion's successful messaging on the mismanagement of the main two parties in the Ispagna-America War and Great War. Second, the Silver Anthem creed has rapidly spread across the country, and their faithful back the eponymously named Silver Legion. Third is the Ernst Hill Scandal, which convinced much of the electorate that the main parties were merely pawns of the European powers."

President-Elect Pelley told those at his victory acceptance speech: "We shall bring an end to the Unified States sacrificing its Lord-Given bounty to the corrupting influence of foreigners. No more shall we wage war in service of the Devil whom the Lord allows to slay our youth for our lack of faith. Instead, we shall spread the glory of the Lord the land.

"After we have restored the divine to the head government here, we shall spread his glory from the farthest reaches north into Hattada to the southernmost portion of New Ispagna in South America. Even then, that will not be enough for the Lord, for he is jealous and sees the unfaithful everywhere as an insult to his glory. While he has promised us the Americas in his revelation of our Destiny Manifest, his glory must one day be spread to the whole world."

Pelley went on to say that "the first part of freeing our country from disastrous foreign influence is pulling the Unified States from the Coalition of so-called Freed Nations. There is no such freedom where the Lord's chosen people humiliate themselves by pretending to stand as equals with our lessers."

---

Second Revolution Ends, What Happens Next? By Ruth Netkin - published in 1936 in Die Rote Ursache newspaper as an editorial

The Russy Federation pulled out of the war after the putschists, calling themselves Proletariat Vanguard, overthrew Dzhugashvili and his central committee. It is only a couple of years later, and the costly luxury of factionalism Dzhugashvili tried to purge has reared its ugly head yet again. Tanechka and her dvoryanstvo mages have already declared that they are splintering from her fellow Second Revolutionaries.

Those reformists have gotten their way and ended the dictatorship of the proletariat far too soon. Their new democracy will just decay into capitalism as opportunists take over. We here in Germania Communist Party mourn the loss of the former Russy Federation, which accomplished more for communism than anyone could have ever expected.

---

Great Sages Descend - published in 1937 in the Cultivated News in Zhangzi

In a once-in-a-millennia turn of events, the eternal sages and great masters have sent us a representative. Her name is Chen Jing. She declares that the time of the battle for the world will soon be upon us. It is not clear how soon that is, as some sages have lived for hundreds of years. This could mean decades in the future.

Sage Chen Jing went on to tell us that the eleven who have received the mandate of heaven will be pulled to each other as the will of heaven makes itself manifest in them. Each will have a blessing that will be unique to their spirit.

She informed us that while these Blessed each reside in a different body, so they appear outwardly as many, they are also from the same source. Some have been separated from this source for a long time, even over multiple lives. It is neither correct, therefore, she explained, to call these Blessed people one being or many beings.

---

Mages who Served in the Great War Have Stopped Aging, Scientists Find - aired on December 1937 on German News Network

"While long-lived mages have existed very rarely in the past, scientists have confirmed what many have already suspected: mages who fought in the Great War have stopped aging. There is no explanation yet as to why only those veterans have gained this remarkable change in their physiology while other mages who use the same computation orbs now did not.

---

A League of Nations, What is it? - published in 1938 in the Berun Globe

In an effort to curb threats to us all and end the scourge of war, countries from around the world have banded together to form an international governing body. They call it the League of Nations. Despite opposition from the Allied Kingdom and the Unified States, the League has gained a wide berth of authority to handle crimes against humanity, violent mage activity, and organized crime.

Advocates believe that due to the deadly toll of the ten years of the Great War, a strong international body is needed now more than ever to curb the excesses of the kind of nationalism they believe caused the Great War. Chief among their advocates is the newly reformed Russy Federation, which has taken a prominent role in the governing body next to the Coalition of Freed Nations, which consists of former colonies like Bharat and Ruba.

Dissenting voices from the ambassadors of nations like the aforementioned Allied Kingdom and the Unified States claim that the broader powers undermine the principles of national sovereignty. They further claim that the Russy Federation and Coalition of Freed Nations are acting hypocritically, given their strong advocacy of national self-determination.

The advocates from the Coalition countered by claiming that the colonial powers only wish to remain unaccountable for their crimes against humanity. The Coalition further argues that the League balances the playing field on the international stage that has historically excluded non-European nations from participating in decisions that impact them.

Thanks to Hans von Zettour's efforts, a law enforcement body called International Police was formed in conjunction with the League's formation. Mages from all over the world are encouraged to join to find work that allows them to use their powers for good. The headquarters for Interpol will be located in Berun.

---

Tanechka's Angels Rob Albish Royal Museum - published in the Golden Moon 1945

Tanechka and her Russy mages strike again. This time at the Albish Royal Museum in her effort to undermine imperialism around the world. The people are asking: Will anyone stop her? If not Albish authorities, then Interpol?

---

Operation Gas Light is A-go - Angel to Interpol - mailed in 1946

Agent Müller,

Legadonia has foisted their angel upon Interpol. I have pulled strings to assign to you. She does not recognize the adult T.D.W.

Proceed with Operation Gas Light.

• H. Z.

P.S. This message has an alchemical coating on it that will cause it to self-destruct thirty seconds after opening.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Berun, Germania - 30th of October, 1933
17 years before the Present

I fiddled with the components with the clockwork of a Weiss-32 model computation orb on my bedroom desk. Master Nikolaus Weiss, who was Matheus' father and now, therefore, my grandfather, had instructed me to practice deconstructing, cleaning, and then reconstructing it. My decade of experience caring for my over-engineered Germanian machine pistol aided me immensely in this task. My apprenticeship with the Weiss family, of which I am now part, would take approximately five years.

As I went through the motions of my second time deconstructing the orb, I reflected upon the last few weeks. The day I left the Serebryakov household, the matriarch, and her husband hugged me and promised that I would be welcomed back anytime. They had spent my whole time with them, fussing over me and treating me like a cute little girl. I definitely had mixed feelings about it, given how much it reminded me of that incident in 1931, but I didn't complain. Visha kept distant and refused to acknowledge me as I left after I said my final thanks and apology to her. I could hear her mother chewing her out as Matheus escorted me to his car.

The week that followed hit me hard. Visha has been with me almost every day for the last ten years. The sudden absence of her from my side, which often came with the smell of her morning brew and her ear to listen to my struggles, left me addled and aching all over. I wondered if this is how divorce must feel like when one partner suddenly revealed they no longer loved you. There had been signs that she was straight before I confessed my feelings. There had been signs she shared some of her parents' prejudices against homosexual people. However, I had hoped she would see past those and accept me anyway.

It hurt knowing her parents' love was conditional. In my mind, they showered me with love and affection just like Visha had in her own way, but if they learned the truth, love would turn into hate and affection into cold shoulders. Every time they told me how beautiful I was and how I was sure to get a husband soon who would take care of me, they just sent another dagger into me. They thought they were being kind, but I almost preferred Visha's distant behavior over their constant flow of hurtful assumptions.

There is no happiness in a world where you cannot be seen for who you are. I knew this too well. I was an awful judge of emotions, but even I knew that this kind of love was intensely hollow.

Visha's response to sharing a sensitive piece of myself had become the model for how I saw the kindness of anyone who did not know the truth about me. I was only a little girl who needed love in strangers' eyes until they realized my secret and decided I was no longer human but rather a bringer of cultural erosion and a supposed goddess' wrath.

Part of me speculated in a spirit of dark humor that some people saw me as the alien or the demon in their horror stories, robbing me of my personhood in their moral cosmology. I knew my friends didn't actually think that about me because that would be just silly, but part of me believed they did. They saw a child who did not make sense and needed to rationalize that behavior. I could never explain why I was so different, though. I would just be sent to the mental asylum if I did. Then, I would never see them again. It would be a fate worse than death.

So being my full self and happy would never be possible.

I wiped my face. It was getting hard to see. I sat there for a long time until I could force myself to work and not feel like this. Even when I did, my mind kept chugging along this line of thought.

I thought about how Matheus would bring me to places full of people who loved and appreciated him throughout his life. He would someday get married. He had the right to get married. People would celebrate the occasion. He would be rewarded by society for it. They would love him for all of him.

Spending time with his social circle helped, but there was this suffocating pressure that the whole situation put on me. Everyone hurt me even in their kindest gesture, except for Weiss and the 203rd, who visited me. It was like I had to pretend every smile and expression of gratitude in order to play along with this narrative that I was a Normal like them.

I haven't felt this way since I was a man in my past life when I blindly accepted that society had rules and that rules needed to be followed. In this world, though, where I was born, every rule clearly became yet another unjust binding on my freedom and flourishing.

I also worried that I was preventing Matheus from finding a partner. Would she be okay with another adult, an unrelated woman in the household — one who dominated Matheus' attention and needed regular physical comfort? How would he broach the subject of my sexuality since that would be a deal breaker if the three of us lived together? Would it be the first thing he needed to establish, risking spreading my secret widely? Or would it be the last thing he told them before going forward with an engagement after he invested significant time courting her to get to that point?

This all assumed I never moved out, but the idea of being alone again tormented me even when I thought of it. I could not conscience living without Weiss at the moment.

Perhaps it was selfish of me to have hoped at all for a relationship with Visha. To think that a woman who couldn't feel the same way about me would give me the affection my heart desired anyway. That she would risk her livelihood and the bright future her parents promised her for me. Or that some twist of fate would occur, and I would find that she was bisexual and would still entertain my affections on the side despite the dangers that would follow such an affair. I just wanted her to hold me again.

Look at how irrational and selfish I have become.

During the adoption, Matheus had given me the choice of taking his family name. It was a rather emotional thing for me, which meant I really did not know what to think of the matter. If I had to describe it, I would say I had this visceral need for connection. The 203rd had been my family in spirit these last several years. My relationship with them had surpassed anything from my first life by kilometers. I burst into messy tears as I accepted his name. It was my official recognition of this connection. Degurechaff became a middle name, and my full name was now Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss, retaining my knighthood. I typically just introduced myself as Tanya von Weiss.

Over the course of the last couple of months, I depended on Matheus to travel anywhere. He had insisted that I wear the dress Visha's father had purchased for me for the first few weeks due to laws criminalizing cross-dressing, but we increasingly spotted women in outfits that challenged those laws. It was evidently not a law the police in Berun wanted to enforce for some reason neither Matheus nor I had picked up on. Regardless, that got me permission to get out of a dress I hated into my preferred trousers, blouses, turtlenecks, and overcoats.

Doubts hit me as I considered my clothing preferences. Was I a fake woman since I didn't like wearing dresses? Was I just fooling myself? Was I just a straight man like my father but placed into the shell of a small woman? Did I prefer this form due to some perversion of heterosexual attraction?

I busied myself with my computation orb cleaning practice as my self-doubt about my gender plagued me. Many of my doubts grew out of seeds of things I had heard in my first life. I had never learned much about these topics in Japan. It was unprofessional to talk about such things. Even as a human resources manager, we had only the bare minimum instruction about sexual and gender diversity, and it definitely did not go into how to figure out oneself. There was no guidebook or manual I could reference to make sense of my situation. Matheus had no clue, either. We could not just ask strangers either, as far as we were aware.

Neither Matheus nor I knew where to start to get me help. Just having one person who understood a fraction of what I was experiencing would have given me a necessary outlet. As much as Matheus loved me as a good father figure should, he did not understand what I was going through. He did not know what to say. He was always holding his tongue in uncertainty. Should I be upset because it is unfair? Or should I learn to just cope with unfairness? Was I overreacting? Or was my reaction completely justified?

When I had just finished reconstructing the computation orb for the second time that evening, I heard a knock on the door. My former vice commander, now my father, was out socializing after work, so it fell on me to see who was at the door.

I took my practice computation orb with me. When I reached the door, I ran the flight spell so that I could get eye-level with the spy hole. An unknown woman with a beautiful face stood on the other side. She had an expression I couldn't read, but I struggled with reading expressions in general, so that was usual.

When I opened the door, I picked up a mana signal from the woman revving up a spell. I reflexively activated a shield spell, and there I was there, hovering mid-air as we just stared at each other. The woman had her hand in her pocket, probably grabbing at a concealed computation orb of her own. Given how short-sighted Germania and other countries had been with the rapid development of more advanced computation orbs, there was now a lot of hardware on the streets that could turn a mage into an extremely nimble fighter plane with reinforced plating. Due to the efficiency of modern computation orb technology, civilians could easily get access to what should have been military-grade hardware. Now, I was face-to-face with a stranger with that technology at the door.

"I am a friend of Visha," the woman stated tensely. I held my aggressive stance for a moment and then slowly deactivated my spells. I kept my hand on my Weiss-32, which I had selected for my assigned maintenance practice because it had the flight spell programmed in it. "My name is Elena Müller. Would you be Tanya von Degurechaff?"

"That was my name once."

Müller's expression changed. I think I saw a smirk. Why would changing my name amuse her?

"I am here to talk. Visha told me what happened between you two, and I am here to smooth things out on her behalf. May I come in?"

I hesitated momentarily but then gestured inside.

As Müller came into the apartment, I took a moment to take her in mentally. The woman was a redhead that had black roots. Hair dye, probably. She was Germanian based on her rounded facial features. Her outfit especially stood out because it was no dress but a fashionable spin on the familiar pilot outfit worn by notables like Amelia Earhart. Her version highlighted her curvy and busty figure well. Müller was of average height at approximately 168cm, and that 20cm she had over me gave her figure a femme fatale gravitas that mine could never have, no matter how hard Being X's part shot of the puberty hammer hit me. My mind started wondering if we could date before I reigned it in.

I chastised myself for what my brain had done. For starters, why was my brain immediately evaluating her body like this? I was putting her body in categories and comparing myself to her in ways I never did with men. Sure, I could identify men I knew in a crowd based on their features, but it is like my brain just doesn't bother describing them at all. Men just blurred into the background while women my age popped into focus everywhere I went. Then my brain just deconstructs these women based on what makes them attractive to me or not.

Visha's uncomfortable expression when she told me that we couldn't share a room anymore flashed through my mind. I felt awful, like I had done something wrong and that the most recent victim of my pubescent brain was Elena Müller.

"So, are you all alone here?" the other woman inquired as she took a seat in our small dining and living room.

"I also live with my former Vice Commander Matheus. Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Müller?"

"Yes, please."

I went into the kitchen and went to work while we continued talking.

"So what do you do…Ms. Degurechaff?"

"Oh, my family name is Weiss now. Adoption, not marriage. I work at the Weiss family business cleaning and maintaining computation orbs. Soon, I will learn how to make some of the parts. You said that you came on behalf of my former adjutant."

I kept my speech professional but positive as if I were talking to a customer in my first life.

"Yes," Müller replied as her face got more serious. "Visha and I have known each other for fourteen years - that is four years before she joined your unit. Visha has always been…the words escape me at the moment. The important thing is she doesn't hate you. After she and I talked, things between you were more complicated than they seemed. She doesn't want to hurt you, I promise, but she needs time to figure some things out."

I stared at the water as it started heating up.

"Ms. Weiss?"

"Yes, I am listening." I had zoned out. That was happening more often.

"So, how are you feeling, if I may ask?"

I poured the hot water over some ground coffee for my cup as I took some time to respond.

"I don't understand it all that well," I began. "She was also so competent and understanding, everything a commander could have wanted from a subordinate. We had been together so long. I thought she would understand and that something could be arranged."

My cup overflowed as I lost control of my pouring. I tsk'd as hot water contacted my skin in my frantic effort to clean up the mess.

"You loved her, didn't you?" the woman in the other room asked. Her voice had softened. She wasn't offended by my homosexuality. Was she touched by the situation?

"I don't know." Despite all my private thoughts, I did not have enough confidence to speak confidently about whether what I had counted as love or not.

"Do you still want to be with her?"

"I don't know why it matters. She doesn't want to be with me. Visha made that abundantly clear."

"Yes, but if she had said yes. If she had accepted your feelings even if she did not share them, then what?"

I had finished cleaning up the mess and poured Müller her cup. I reentered the living room and served the coffee. I took a sip of mine before answering. It was dark and bitter, just how I liked it. My coffee couldn't compare with Visha's. While it wasn't nearly as terrible as ersatz coffee, it still felt like a sorry substitute for the taste I had gotten used to over the last decade.

"I don't know," I replied. I had naively focused just on telling her how I felt without really thinking about life away from the battlefield. I took a deep breath before continuing. "Perhaps Visha and I could have shared an apartment for a little while. Just having her around. That…would be enough. I would just focus on my work, and it would be enough. If she needed some support, I would be there. She would be successful in whatever she wanted to do, and I would be there."

Müller considered her coffee but didn't take a sip.

"We have milk but no cream or sugar right now," I explained. The war economy still made getting certain things incredibly hard.

She shrugged. "I guess I will have coffee the Tanya way." Taking a sip, I could see she didn't like it. I don't know if it was because her tastes were not the same as mine or just that my brewing was lackluster. Wiping her mouth on a napkin, which smeared her maroon lipstick a little bit on the cloth, Müller continued talking. "You might not know this, but Visha could never have been your roommate after the war. Her father wants to keep his eyes on her until she gets married. He would have never allowed Visha to live on her own. He still thinks that she will lose her virginity if she is off on her own without supervision and lose, by extension, her ability to get married to a respectable husband."

I drank from my bitter brew, unsure how to respond.

Visha also had it rough as a straight woman. I had Matheus, who just wanted to understand me and support me — as a proper father should, and my former adjutant had parents who "supported" her to conform to their expectations. The greater the expectation placed on who a person is supposed to be, the less you respect who that person actually is. The more you want a person to think a certain way, the less you want them to actually think. Not once did Visha's parents legitimately ask what I wanted in a way that left room for me to answer honestly. The few times I did, walking outside the box they put me in, they overruled the decision for "my own good." It was an authoritarian way of parenting.

"But I have to ask," Müller added because I had remained silent. I was just not suited for conversing anymore. "Do you think that just living with her would have been enough?"

How much have I wanted to be able to fly away from this awful world and surround myself with the 203rd right then and there — to be on a battlefield that made sense?

"Tanya, would it have been enough?"

"I don't know," I answered quickly before calming down and explaining. "Being there would just have to be enough. What other options do I have? What can I even do?"

"You can go out and fight for a world where you don't have to settle for that version of enough."

I blinked. What was she talking about?

"So, how often do you spend the day alone in this small apartment?" Müller inquired, abruptly changing the subject.

"Why do you ask?" I questioned back gently. It might have been a confession. I couldn't be with Matheus all the time. His position in the family business required him to go on trips with his father, and mine required me to stay put and practice.

"I am just trying to understand the former commander of my best friend," Müller answered cryptically. For some reason, she had a smirk on her face. I turned my head away from her and stared out the window. My face felt warm, and realizing that made me all the more embarrassed. "You are so cute, Tanya. Why do you join me for a walk?"

"But we shouldn't. It is getting late, and law enforcement will-"

"Will do nothing. You and I are mages. Wear whatever you want, and then put your favorite aerial mage medal. Even someone letting the men lock her inside a dingy apartment like this must have heard about the chaos going on in Europa."

"Even if that is the case, society has rules, and we must obey."

Müller chuckled at my reply. "Tanya," she started, making sure I was looking at her. When she had my attention, she leaned forward, causing me to panic for a different reason. The twenty-five-year-old had to know what she was doing in that outfit. "You owe society nothing. Definitely not to a society that thinks you belong in some insane asylum for your harmless natural inclinations. If anything, society owes you a debt."

My sensibilities balked at the classic radical line. I tried to form a response, but she leaned further across the table.

"So what do you say? Will you condemn yourself to a life in a lonely but safe prison or come with me and see what is possible when you do something you aren't supposed to do, but you know in your heart it is so right?" she whispered into my ear.

I gulped. Words wouldn't come out. My head betrayed me, and I nodded.

"Good girl," the older woman said in a sultry voice that completely malfunctioned my brain. I didn't even know who this person was, and my irrational, hormonal brain was making me act so unprofessionally. Matheus would be so ashamed of me right now.

When I came back to my senses, I was outside the apartment, walking somewhere with this person I had just met. I changed into my brown trench coat. Upon my lapel, I proudly placed my Silver Wings Assault Badge with Oak Leaves. I had left that I was going out with a friend on the counter for Matheus if he got home before me.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, looking around. I hadn't been outside without a male chaperone in what felt like forever.

"I'm going to a club to meet some of my like-minded folks. I think you will like them, Goldilocks."

"Goldilocks?"

Again, Müller had thrown me off with her free-spirited charisma. She had me completed at the mercy of her flow. How the last few years had whittled down my will that I could just be pushed around like this.

"It is a nickname. You should be used to changing your name. I go by Elya to my friends. You can call me that too now."

My mental perspective of my situation spun by how fast things were moving. She had already moved to the informal "you" in Germanian, like we were close friends or family — or a couple. Normally, I would have balked immediately, but I did not want to push back. I wanted to follow her lead. My desperation for her attention must be so obvious. I think I am feeling embarrassed — very embarrassed.

She went on talking as I kept up beside her on our trip to a club. "Did you know I am the one who gave Visha her nickname?"

"I didn't know that." It seemed there were a lot of things I didn't know about Viktoriya. Ten years with her, and I didn't know her best friend was this Elya person. I knew Visha sent letters to a friend, but I had started the 203rd with a paradigm of professionalism. I didn't talk about friends and family, and Visha reciprocated. I only knew her family's refugee status because the fact her family spoke Russy at home had been relevant to our operations on the Eastern Front.

"So, do you like it?" Elya inquired. "Goldilocks, I mean."

"Not really." I don't want to be compared to a child in a frilly dress from a children's story for multiple reasons.

"What would you like your nickname to be then?"

"Nichts." I had just said "nothing" in Germanian.

"Nichts it is then."

"Wait, that is not what I meant."

"Come on. I think it is interesting. It is like Odysseus tricking the Cyclops by saying he is Nobody. You are a brilliant strategist and epic hero, so the comparison to Odysseus just fits."

My cheeks warmed from the compliments. Her voice was so nice, and my heart did flips when she talked to me. I was about to suggest Odyssia instead, but I chose to keep listening to her.

"Being called Nichts will be pretty interesting, I think. It was like calling some tall 'Smalls.' You know, opposites. Calling you nothing is just emphasizing that you are really something."

The way she made me feel talking to me. My mind was mentally screaming. I really did want to be something, or rather someone, to Elya or a person just like her. Maybe someday I will find someone who made my heart flip, cared for all of me, and would let me love them. Elya proved to be pretty convincing about accepting that nickname despite my earlier reservations. She really had this real talent to just change my mind on things.

As we walked down the street, I saw all sorts of people walking around. Most women had hats with flowers in them and long dresses that went all the way down to their ankles in a show of modesty. Those kinds of outfits were what I had felt forced to wear based on customs and traditions in Germania. Theoretically, law enforcement could have charged Elya and me with crossdressing, which was a crime in this time period. These more traditionally dressed women sometimes glared at us like we were a pair of delinquents.

The traditionally dressed women I saw on the street either came in groups greater than three or with a male chaperone. We were the only group of two without a man.

While I internally balked at the still mostly intact patriarchy, I still obeyed per se. I was a person of order at my heart. Society offered us a social contract. We may not agree with everything that our country does, but we need to respect the law generally. As long as society respected individual liberties and provided the means to change the rules through some kind of democratic tool, who was I to complain?

That was the problem, though. Since I was born Tanya von Degurechaff, I have never had those liberties or access to the democratic system. I tolerated the sex discrimination with the understanding that, eventually, I would be granted freedom. I just had to affect assimilation into Germanian society and wait. Women like Elya and Visha didn't know that. They only knew the yoke of severe oppression.

My eyes caught a fancily dressed woman walking down a street. I almost missed that she had a man, her husband probably, on her arm. I really needed to work on this male-blindness I developed. Men were just so much less interesting to my hormone-addled brain than women, and this was going to become a serious problem if I didn't curb its excesses.

Was I this bad in my first life? A lot of my adolescence in that life was a blank to me. I think I repressed my memories of that time. How could puberty give such a response, like how one might react to trauma? Maybe it was just a relic of Being X messing with my mind. I had forgotten my name until I had that awful experience of returning to my past life for one day.

"We are here," Elya announced, waking me from my mental wandering. She moved aside so I could see a gaudy building with the name "The Golden City Club" emblazoned with bright light bulbs. I saw a man with an aerial mage badge out front. I didn't recognize him, but I could tell he had a computation orb in his left pocket. My instincts caused my hackles to rise temporarily until I was done figuring out my options for killing him if he attacked for some reason. Based on Elya's own subconscious reaching for hers in her jacket, I wasn't the only one who picked up some concerning habits. War had changed us, and the only thing we had learned to fear was someone attacking us in our sleep or another mage while we were awake.

"Names?" the male aerial mage asked.

"Elena Müller and Tanya von Degurechaff," my guide replied, using my old name.

Had she already reserved a place for me at the club today before visiting me? That was some confidence.

The guy used a spell to send a message a short distance before nodding his head. Given the advances in computation orb technology during the war, communication spells were undetectable except at close range unless one was casting specific interception spells.

Elya then led me inside the establishment. There, I realized I was out of my depth. The place was clearly a bar. I had been to bars before with my coworkers in my last life, but this was not the same at all. It was something I imagined a proto-typical gay bar to look like. There was a lot of cross-dressing, dancing in couples of all kinds, and modern music by this world's standards. Frankly, my Japanese salaryman brain lacked the pre-requisite experience and terminology to fully encapsulate what I saw with any completeness or tact. I thought it best if I avoided saying something wrong now I was outside my natural habit of the cubicle or the battlefield.

Based on what I knew, this was the kind of place law enforcement liked to raid. Some of the people patronizing the establishment were clearly not just here to talk with others like themselves. What caught my eyes, in particular, was what appeared to be the proprietor of the establishment paying off some well-dressed individuals near the back door.

Given that each of those men with rings on their hands carried concealed guns and computation orbs, I guess they were mobsters. At least, they matched some of the descriptions of one of the organized crime syndicates that had swiped a bunch of computation orbs and taken root in Berun. It would explain why the bar wasn't afraid of raids from law enforcement.

"Um, Elya, when you said I was going to fight, what exactly did you mean?"

The taller woman gave me an amused look. "You will find out soon."

My hackles raised. What had I gotten myself into? If Elya was in league with some yakuza-like organization, then I was screwed. She knew my name, where I lived, and my family. These ring-wearing mobsters might even go after Matheus, and then they would have me completely under their control, as I would do anything to protect him. I had to follow along with Elya's plan, or Matheus or I might wake up without a computation orb at the bottom of the Müggelsee and our feet encased in concrete.

She guided me to the second story, where there were some private rooms, and I did my best to remain calm. These rooms were suited for conducting meetings and had a large semicircle sofa that wrapped around a round table. There were also individual chairs against the wall that could be placed on the other side of the round table as needed. Each room had a bed that folded into the wall and could be dropped. From the looks of it, some people might be mixing business and pleasure in the other rooms.

Our room already had three individuals in it: two women—one in her mid-forties with very pale skin, brown hair, and serious brown eyes. The other younger woman was my age, with caramel skin, raven black hair, and enchanting amber eyes. There was also one guy.

Stop it, brain! That guy is saying something. It might even be important!

"--is Hilary Brecht, and this young lady is Sonetto Esfahani," the man said, introducing everyone. Unfortunately, I had only gotten the two women's names and completely missed when he gave his own. This was bad. I never made this kind of mistake in my past life.

(AN: This Sonetto is not the Sonnetto from the 1950s. The latter is named after this Sonetto, though.)


Keep composure. No one will find out.

Elya fortunately led the conversation on our behalf. "Mrs. Brecht and I know each other already from the BDF. For those who don't know, you can just call me Elya. It is better that way. The one next to me goes by Tanya von Weiss, formerly known as Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. She is one of the twelve knights of the Imperial War College, a recipient of the Silver Wings Assault Badge at the tender age of nine years, and the best person to be our muscle."

All eyes turned to me as I processed being voluntold to be the "muscle" of the dubious organization they were part of.

I definitely did not have the "muscle" look. Due to my diminutive height and penchant for using magic to assist with physical activities, I retained an embarrassingly weak appearance. I also had become a bit of a shut-in.

In a sense, I felt vindicated. Visha and Matheus had told me I was too paranoid when I confessed some of the reasoning behind some of my life decisions. Going outside with a stranger had already found me pulled into something most certainly dangerous.

"Why have I not heard of her if she is so accomplished?" Sonetto inquired, interjecting before the man could ask the same question.

The answer to their question is that the General Staff decided to put all the credit and, more importantly, all the blame for my actions on Erich von Lergen. It was all in order to obtain a peace deal through the Kingdom of Ildoa, which fell through due to politics. I couldn't just tell anyone that. Strict confidentiality and my own safety depended on maintaining this duplicity. Given that Lergen was probably going to get a lot of time or executed for my actions during the war, I was in no hurry to correct the record. It was just unfortunate my friend had to suffer in my stead.

I looked at Elya for help answering.

"Just take my word for it," the redheaded woman assured Sonetto. "Have I ever led you astray with my recommendations?"

The other three did not seem convinced. Since my life might be on the line here, I needed to play the role of the professional mercenary.

"Ms. Müller, I don't recall agreeing to be someone's muscle quite yet," I began. I immediately noticed how my voice dropped into a very familiar huskier rasp. "I would like to at least know more about what I am being asked to do before trading my services."

With that line, Tanya von Weiss had returned to her place inside her room all alone. Now, I was Nichts, the grizzled Germanian veteran who was ready for business. All I needed was my helmet, goggles, and mantle, and I would be in another uniform that sealed away but also protected that crying girl. Where Tanya von Weiss could not go outside or fight, Nichts person valued for her power and expertise could and would. People did not just respect her for her combat prowess; they paid her for it.

I was surprised by how easy this was. Then I realized this was hardly the first time I had spun a persona like this. The Salaryman and Soldier were just earlier versions to this new emerging self. It was not complete until I got a new uniform. That can be fixed later.

Hilary Brecht smiled. I had a feeling she was a woman who liked to negotiate and discuss details.

"Our associates have a few jobs where our interests align that require a mage your caliber to undertake," Hilary Brecht began. "If you haven't noticed, the country is in chaos. Organized crime has filled the vacuum as the provisional government figures itself out. Law enforcement lacks the technology and personnel to handle the situation. In chaos like this, we don't want the wrong people taking advantage of the situation and ruining all the effort we put into moving the clock forward on progress. The stakes for us are quite high."

She said "us" in a way that made it clear she meant people like us. What that meant specifically, I was not sure. Did she mean women, homosexual people, or something else?

Hilary continued explaining her position in this conversation. "We need to act now more than ever to take control of our future. If we don't, the people deciding our future will be those who want to bring us back into that horrendous war. That is why, in an alliance with the provisional government and law enforcement, my group has taken the initiative and made sure we could have this meeting. We need mages we can trust to fight on our side who will help us make sure this new constitution gets through."

Feminists like Hilary Brecht had the provisional government by the balls. Like most of the countries that had lost a huge chunk of their male population in the war, there was a reckoning. The monopoly of violence and culture necessary to enforce patriarchy had started cracking. Necessity forced women, whether they wanted to or not, into new roles. A combination of changing cultural norms over the last century and now just plain lack of men around meant women did not have to fear quite as much for their physical safety if they stepped out of the patriarchal line — Doctrine of Chastisement and all that jazz.

Tanya von Weiss might get mushy and sensitive about all this, but I was Nichts now. She was a tough-as-nails veteran. She most certainly did not let sad things affect her. Though I was certain by this point that I wasn't dealing with gangsters anymore, I felt strong as Nichts and had this urge to maintain character.

"And what do I get out of this?"

This earned me an offended look from Sonetto Esfahani. Was she angry at me?

Elya, at least, expected my response.

"We have some patrons among the Scientific Humanitarians and the BDF who can compensate you. Jobs will be paid out in one to five hundred marks based on how much our patrons invest. Some weeks may be busier than others. You may be required to travel around the nation for other jobs. Ms. Esfahani, one other person, and I will be on your team to assist as fellow mages, but neither Esahani nor I are combat mages like you. Additionally, I can convince some scientist friends to contract your family's company to produce the next generation of cutting-edge computation orb technology."

I desperately wanted to get my hands on a dual-core, and having these contracts would mean that I would have access to them as an apprentice in the company. The Weiss-32 I had was functional and better than the Type 13 Standard operation orb I used at the beginning of the war in some ways, but it had nothing on the dual-core Type 97 or the orbs the Russy Federation had started in 1929 that could produce barrier spells so dense we had to dump large amounts of mana into our penetration spells just to do the slightest bit of damage.

"If I am going to conduct some enhanced negotiations with your opposition for you and your associates, I will need a few other things. First, a retainer fee of one thousand marks. Second, I want none of this work associated with my real name. You can credit Nichts if it puts me in a good light, but I don't want any of our unfriendly competition tracing our operations back to me or my family."

The four others at the table looked each other in the eyes, and eventually, the man nodded.

"We can agree with that," the man whose name I still didn't know said. "However, we won't give you a retainer fee until we have proof that you can do the work we need you to do."

"I can accept that, sir," I confirmed nonchalantly. "When do we get started?"

"Sunday," the guy answered.

I clutched my stomach a bit. That was only a few days. I don't even know the whole team yet. I know Hilary said they wanted to seize the moment, but I didn't think she had meant so soon.

"We should also probably have some dinner," the still-nameless man added with a laugh. He looked at me quite intensely.

Why was he doing that? Did I have something on my coat? I looked down and saw something out of the ordinary.

Then Elya glanced between the two of us.

"Mr. Handel, if you would do us a favor and ring for service?" Elya requested.

The guy pressed a button on the wall near where he was sitting, causing a ringing noise, but more importantly, he confirmed his last name. Now, I didn't have to just say "sir" or vaguely talk in his direction.

While Mr. Handel was distracted, the redhead who had brought me here whispered in my ear again. "Why don't you talk to Sonetto? She is really nice."

Then, like magic, she had Mr. Handel and Mrs. Brecht's undivided attention. They discussed some complicated things involving concessions from the provisional government officials and getting proper authority from law enforcement to take extrajudicial approaches to rectify the post-war lawlessness.

I turned to Ms. Esfahani. She was quite pretty. I wasn't sure if "Sonetto" had one or two Ns, but I assumed two since its root "sonnet" had two.

I readied myself to talk to a woman who was my nominal age. It was a lot of pressure. I checked what I knew about the subject.

…

Wait, how do you talk to women?!

Images of lecturing and training my troops flashed through my mind.

Brain, I mean: How do you talk to women who are not your subordinates?!

At this rate, I going to make every woman I fall in love with into my subordinate just so I can have a conversation with them that I know how to have. That was problematic for multiple reasons. I also was not great at knowing how I felt about anything. Was I going to have to second guess myself now every time I got a new female subordinate if I recruited them because they were competent or because I was attracted to them and their competence?

In order to calm down again, I let the shell of Nichts settle upon me. I went through the mental script of small talk I used in my past life to do business lunches. That actually worked until we got our meals. I had some potatoes, wurst, and a salad. It was heavy, but mages needed it if they were going to fight.

Sonetto Esfahani just had a large Cobb salad.

"So what is your family like," the black-haired woman asked me.

"Well, I have Matheus…he is my adoptive father," I attempted to explain. "He used to be my vice commander during the war, but our roles have somewhat reversed as we both adapted to this whole situation. I appreciate how he has taken to the role after the war. I can't praise him enough.

"There is my adoptive grandfather Nikolaus. I am apprenticing under him in how to make and maintain computation orbs. I have only been doing maintenance, but I receive a small stipend for my apprenticeship that helps cover a good portion of our rent. My old battalion, the 203rd, is also my family. They visit me regularly to see how I am doing."

Soneto's amber eyes glowed softly as she regarded me. I had only seen eyes like that on that Legadonian soldier who would just never die. I didn't know how she had eyes like that.

"How about you, any family?" I turned the question around.

In response, she frowned and stared off towards a corner of the room. "My family and I don't talk. I moved to Berun after the war ended because I heard it was safer here for me. My family doesn't know where I am, and I don't want them to know. The Scientific Humanitarians took me in and got me into contact with Mrs. Brecht. Elya has also been helping me a lot or at least likes my special talent."

"Special talent?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Look," she said and raised her left hand towards me. Her hand was delicate, and she had long and slender fingers. I wanted to reach out and touch that hand due to a habit I had formed with Matheus. I was already struggling to hold my composure, and a yearning for contact grew at the back of my mind.

Then, a white lily blossomed in her hand. It was extraordinary for multiple reasons. First, I hadn't sensed the use of a computation orb. This was foci-less formula casting. Since foci cause pulses of mana when one casts a spell in them, brute-forcing the mental math like this significantly reduced the detectability that a spell was being cast.

Second, this was definitely an illusion, but it was so close to the real thing that it would have fooled me for long enough to be effective in the heat of combat. I was no slouch in mental math, but Esfahani was clearly on another level entirely. I had always wondered how a savant mage would hold up as an aerial mage. I am certain they would prove quite formidable by being able to hold one additional spell active.

Her being a real prodigy reminded me how I was just a fake one, and I felt a pang of what I guess was a shame for that. I still don't know why people like Zettour thought my college essays were out-of-this-world. I cheated with future knowledge on some, but some were just my ideas on this or that. I got the same praise regardless. I just could not believe any of it. Were they just trying to say something nice? Perhaps they pitied me? Maybe it was like when your child brings you their macaroni art, and you are obliged out of familial affection to rain praises upon the child. (It was not a policy with which my father agreed in my first life.) Regardless of everyone's opinions of me, whenever I met real talented individuals who were clearly smarter than me in some way, I knew I was not special and new. I was comfortable at my real place in the middle of the bell curve.

Never gold, always silver. My father in Japan just wanted to brag about his supposedly gifted boy, but that boy kept getting second over and over. The boy might as well have gotten last place for all it was worth.

"Ms. Esfahani, you are quite a talented mathematician," I sincerely complimented her, my voice returning to its unforced pitch. "This is a fairly good illusion."

She smiled but then frowned. Had I said something rude?

"Thanks," Esfahani replied while focusing her attention on my face. "But are you okay, Ms. Nichts?"

Elya bumped me to get my attention discreetly and then offered her hand below the table. I took it. Her hands were soft, unlike Matheus'. I rubbed my small thumb against her knuckles. The little gesture quickly reassured me that I was safe, acknowledged, and had someone who could care. I wasn't yet fully comfortable. This had been a downer of a day before this, and my Nichts shell was too incomplete to keep all the Tanya von Weiss inside. From experience of being in this state of distress several times before, I would have needed an arm around the shoulder and the ability to lean into someone's side in order to get comfortable mentally. Still, the small amount of contact was both discreet and would help restabilize my mood.

"It is nothing," I lied. There was nothing I could say. Visha must have explained my circumstances to Elya. I was glad that she did not fear me or treat any contact with me with suspicion. At least, it didn't appear that way. If anything, she seemed to enjoy my behavior.

After a few more minutes, the redhead spoke up to the group.

"I think Nichts here has had enough sitting around," she said, continuing to come to my rescue. I vaguely nodded. "Do you think you are ready to leave?"

I shook my head. The other three in the room looked curious about my behavior. How was I supposed to explain it to them? Elya and I couldn't just walk outside holding hands. Even if having aerial mage badges gave us some immunity, the newspapers had me properly terrified of what happened to homosexual people when they did get punished. I did not want to be experimented upon ever again with something like weird organ transplants to "cure" my supposed "gender invertedness" or tossed into a mental asylum.

This is a gay bar place, so they probably understand that then. It was the mental health thing. Elya and I were the only ones here that were veterans.

"How about a dance, then?" Elya suggested. None of the others seemed to care, and somehow, I was the only one surprised by the offer.

I was about to decline but stopped when I focused on her face. My cheeks flushed. It wasn't that she had a unique expression. The woman just had this beautiful face, and my precious reason fled me. I nodded softly, not trusting my tongue to say anything coherent. My stomach was all butterflies.

Elya's attentive gaze unwrapped what little remained of the shell I had made for myself, like a pair of scissors gently cutting through a flimsy screen. When she was done, my heart was once more fully exposed to her.

After excusing us, she gripped my hand firmly and led me downstairs.

I took in what the other dancers were doing. It was a partner dance of some sort involving sliding and gliding across the floor as sweet jazz imported from the Unified States played in the background.

"Do you know how to do the Foxtrot?" Elya softly inquired. I shook my head. I had never heard of it. It definitely was not a traditional Germanian dance or ballet I had learned in the orphanage. "Okay, I will show you."

She took my other hand as I took in what was about to happen. Due to the difference in height and knowledge, she performed the leading role in the dance. I still had a lot of issues with my gender that I hadn't unpacked yet. Playing the follower role both set my heart aflutter and made me feel like I was doing something wrong. There was a part of me that felt like I was signaling weakness. I wanted people to respect me. I also did not want to get hurt.

I could even mentally feel the physical reprimand from my first father for what I was doing right now.

"I know you are scared, and everything in your mind is screaming at you to stop and go at the same time," Elya diagnosed. This is another reminder of how much of an open book my face could be. I want you to focus just on me and this dance. Forget about the world. Just you and me—music, our hands together, and follow me."

I did as she instructed. I stared at her eyes. It wasn't hard. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a very tasteful amount of skillfully applied makeup that enhanced her charm. The red she had dyed her hair really gave her curls a pop to them. I could really imagine her being an actress. I did not know how she had so much time to learn how to master her appearance like this during the war as a mage, but I could hardly care while I had my existence so completely under her spell.

I took a deep breath, and she started to move at the perfect moment.

The dance was incredibly easy, or at least Elya made it easy for me. Round and round we went. I felt my hunger for contact ebb, and my heart swell. I didn't understand any of this. Rationality had been my steadfast partner for decades, and now Elya had shoved it aside and swept me into her storm. We hadn't even known each other for over a day. Honestly, I don't know why Elya was doing this or if any of this was normal. How long do you wait to invite a stranger to a dance at a bar like this? Was there a detailed manual on this? There had to—

"Focus, my little Nichts," my dance partner instructed as I started to lag behind.

Yes, ma'am! the inner soldier in me replied.

I dumped all my worries on the wayside once again about why and just focused on the here and now.

After a few minutes, the dance fully replenished my touch batteries, and then some. It was still disappointing for it to end. The rest of the night was mostly a blur, as Elya was my sole focus. I vaguely recall she had taken me around to meet various people she knew. Part of me at least remembers there were other people out there, Matheus, and I could finally talk to them about my situation.

When she took me home, I was surprised to find Matheus waiting for me. Surprisingly, he was a good sport about the whole going out without him. I think he may have wanted me to take more initiative in making my own friends and finding people like myself. As for me joining a mercenary operation to take out targets for law enforcement and others, I will wait until it comes up for now.

How do you explain to a guy that you are probably killing people on the weekends?

Matheus was definitely not going to be happy about me going back to that battlefield for which my mage instincts yearned.


Lorelei's Note:
I have a lot of experience with stigma stress. When I rewrote the first half of this chapter, I was crying due to just how familiar I am with those feelings. The intro is a bit long, but I hope it is alright.

We finally learn the origin story of the Nichts moniker and why Sonnetto's name has two Ns. Sonetto is her own person, and we will learn a bit more about her in the next chapter. The authorial reason there are two characters with this name is that I changed my mind about whether to publish this prologue chapter and decided to make a story reason for it. I basically redesigned Sonnetto in the 1950s timeline and then later made both versions canonical. I also added an N in the remake by accident for the same reason Tanya did.

1950s Sonnetto doesn't know who 1930s Sonetto is other than she is an old friend of Tanya's.

I got the name "Sonetto" from a character in Reverse: 1999, which is a game I like.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Interpol HQ, Berun - 10th of February, 1950

Sonnetto stood next to the one-way window outside the interrogation room. Next to her was her chief officer and housemate, Tanya von Weiss.

The short blonde was mentally prepping herself to grill the Tanechka's Angels, whom they had captured earlier that month. The three elf-like women sat waiting for what would be their last questioning before they were released as part of the bargain prosecutors made with the criminal mastermind Tanechka. Tanya had not gotten a chance to actually speak with any of the Angels yet due to the higher-ups in the International Court and the League of Nations grilling her about what Masquerade had done.

"Okay, so Sonnetto," Tanya signed anxiously. "Communists like these nutjobs believe everything they do is perfectly reasonable and fine even when the facts are staring them right in the face. The ideology justifies everything. They will never admit to any wrongdoing or apologize."

"So what is the point of interrogating them further?" the alchemical woman inquired.

"I got to at least tell the higher-ups that I tried to ask if they would spill the beans on Tanechka's location."

Sonnetto knew that her short housemate did not specifically have to do this interrogation. There were plenty of others who could have. She rarely did them herself due to her desire to keep her identity a secret.

"This feels like an excuse for you to vent your frustrations and prejudices on your ideological foes. Remember, we have agents from Russy and Jugoslavija in Interpol, too. You could get in trouble if you go around calling them all them nutjobs. You even wrote the rule that we are not supposed to talk politics on the job. You will get written up and have to do sensitivity training."

"They are not prejudices if they are grounded in facts," Tanya retorted, conflating slander and prejudice in a way that excused her myopias.

"I still think you will be surprised if you actually talk to them."

Her blonde housemate would not budge on it. Her certainty in her prejudices was as ironclad as any brimstone preacher's faith in the Lord.

Sonnetto could do nothing but shake her head in exasperation.

Sometimes, Tanya acts like she popped into the world from another time and place. Her worldview could be so anachronistic and, sometimes, even ahistorical.

The alchemical woman frowned ever so slightly after Tanya walked away. It was distressing for her to hear the same old tropes of hate-filled language even when it wasn't directed at herself. The language preceded the violence, and the mental association between those two was forever emblazoned in Roxanne's brain from the time of Alexander Magnus' bloody conquest of Persia.

Sonnetto wished Tanya could leave that battlefield behind from the 1920s. The communists were not the enemy anymore. Sure, some of them, like the Angels, committed crimes and were willing to use deadly force against Interpol agents, but not all communists did stuff like that. Sonnetto personally did not like the Angels, but she still thought Tanya approached the interrogation from a mindset beset by overblown prejudice rather than reality.

Sonnetto then turned to watch from the window.

Her mind turned to Tanya's birthday on July 18th. She planned to confess her desire to have a romantic relationship with Tanya then. It was about time, too. They had been living together for some years, and they had become quite close. The alchemical woman hoped that the blonde woman would accept her feelings even if there were no physical attraction behind her desire. They could make something work even if Tanya had reservations.

Then Tanya entered the room with the supposedly unapologetic Angels. As the officer of the law started her spiel, the three communists glanced at each other.

"That's her."

"It has to be. Just look at her."

"She's a few years older and healthier, but her face is the same from the painting."

"What are you talking about?" Tanya was thrown off completely.

"We are so sorry!" One proclaimed for the group.

"I know we can never make it right. Is there anything we can do?"

"I have to tell you how much you mean so much to us — no, to everyone! You really made such a difference in the world."

"May I hug you? If that is alright, that is."

Tanya quickly stepped back as the three Angels leaned forward on the table and started profusely showing sympathy for some unimaginable reason. The blonde then took a few moments to figure out where to continue in her practiced script.

"I want to know where Tanechka is!" Tanya demanded. Sonnetto could tell Tanya had intended to sound tough there, but without her Nichts persona, the short Germanian could not pull off being intimidating in a conversation. Fang might disagree, but Tanya being hypnotized was an exceptional circumstance.

While a flurry of excited conversation followed in the interrogation room, someone came down the hall and timidly signaled for Sonnetto's attention.

"Agent S, may I have a moment?" the person asked her.

The person who summoned Sonnetto was Agent U, who served as Interpol's Chief Scientist for all things arcane and otherwise supernatural. The scientist was a non-mage in her early 30s with brown hair styled in a practical short bob. She was a middling height, a few inches taller than Sonnetto. Agent U also had the pale skin of a white Germanian who did not get out much.

Agent U only ever referred to people by "Agent" followed up by the the first letter of their surname or pseudonym. Calamity had actually taken up the habit as well in order to keep communication in combat fast. In the Chief Scientist's case, Sonnetto had a hunch that Agent U was so trapped in her own world that she just did not "waste" mental resources on "trivial" things like people's full names. It could be infuriating, but Sonnetto kept her thoughts to herself. Agent U also only introduced herself using the same system, so Sonnetto and most other people did not know her by her full name.

The alchemical woman went to the hallway and out of earshot of the interrogation. Sonnetto could have sworn she saw a lavender tail with a purple tuff of fur poking out from Agent U's lab, but that could not have been possible. Demons didn't actually exist, did they?

"Thank you, Agent S. I need you to tell Agent N when she is done interrogating that I have a situation I need to report. I will be busy running urgent tests on— correction, with my assistants. Do you understand?"

Sonnetto just gave a thumbs up, and Agent U walked off without a word of "Thanks". Social niceties just did not naturally register with the Chief Scientist. They were "inefficient", after all. Niceties "should be assumed" just to save time. At least, that was what Sonnetto thought the brunette's philosophy was based on their frequent interactions synthesizing new alchemical formulae that Sonnetto could use. One of those formulae might actually enable her to speak, so it was not like the officer from Bactria did not appreciate the Chief Scientist on the whole.

While Agent U had a deficit in consideration, this was far from unusual for Sonnetto. Many people kind of just talked at the officer, telling her to do things. The alchemical woman had many marginalizing differences between her and the majority of Germanians around her.

That mattered a lot in a democracy like Germania's, in which being part of the majority gave one power. One's deservedness of respect and inclusion regularly came down to whether a person saw you as "one of us" or not. It was tribalism but as a form of governance. As long as people adhered uncritically to democratic norms, there would always be a dominant majority unaccountably wielding their power upon this or that marginal group.

From Sonnetto's perspective, it was very telling that these democracies, in their historical mythologies, celebrated every time they found a way to say:

"These people whom we once mistreated are not so different than us. What we thought were important differences were actually unimportant. Oh, what fools we were! We should not have treated them so differently because they there different in an important way. But all of that is in the past! We are better now. We will now include them in our majority coalition. However, these other people, their differences matter!"

And so the cycle would continue ad infinitum with zero self-awareness, in Sonnetto's opinion, until there was a reckoning with the question about what to do about people stubbornly always having yet more differences that made empathy hard. With more and more liberal democracies following the Silver Legion's lead on answering the question with "fuck empathy", Sonnetto feared for the future of the world.

In her own personal situation, some differences she had with the Germanian majority caused frustrating social dynamics for her to have to navigate, to say the least. For example, since Sonnetto could not talk like other people, some people just did not bother talking to her. Sometimes, it was because they were nervous they would speak to her incorrectly and be offensive. Other times, it was because it did not even cross their mind that they should have a conversation with her. It wasn't impossible to talk to her without understanding sign language. It just required time and patience.

With just this barrier, Sonnetto could see the contours of social reality bend around her, excluding her from social citizenship. She was not only left out of conversations but from the very idea of having a conversation with her. It was one reason why Tanya was so remarkable. The war vet had, without a second thought, learned sign language and set up accommodations not only in Sonnetto's social life but also opened the door for non-humiliating work.

Did Tanya learn this approach towards accommodation from the War College?

Sonnetto guessed that there might be a connection. Many veterans had lost eyes and limbs during the war. Tanya had helped set up Interpol in the aftermath of the war when mages needed to find work and baked in many of workplace norms to make accommodation the default. Tanya had described it as "returning to her forte", whatever that meant.

Not all her differences led to unwelcome social dynamics for Sonnetto. Namely, her alchemical tattoos might make her stand out, but they also make her no one important. People would not believe that the former Empress of Persia — or, rather, her body — might be this woman with tattoos and radically short hair. Being someone in Roxanne's life came with suffocating expectations. It had been like chains for Roxanne to be the Empress, and Sonnetto wanted none of those chains for herself. She had no desire to be anyone's someone aside from Tanya's.

Tanya also has a strong sense of her own difference to others, which Sonnetto had come to see more clearly after their talk at the restaurant a few weeks ago. It was the talk that Figmund Sreud had interrupted. In Sonnetto's crimson eyes, it was the blonde did not see herself as belonging to anything aside from her family. If you cut that one tether, Tanya might very well drift away entirely from the world. It was like she could have chosen not to be in his world. She even treated her ethnicity as something merely accidental, which it was, but also as if she did not see herself as Germanian in any other way than that was how people saw her. It was something Tanya accepted about social reality.

This reminded Sonnetto that there was still a whole well of secrets in Tanya.

For example, once, when they were planning a vacation, they considered going to the Akitsuhima Dominion. Tanya had been quite excited — at least, as excited as the woman let herself be. Then, while she was explaining how the Akinese might regard Sonnetto and what to do in those situations, Tanya looked like she had realized something but did not say what it was. Solemnity had draped itself upon her tiny frame with a crushing weight, and Tanya went to bed early. They decided that going on a trip could wait until Tanya felt better.

They still have not gone on a real vacation in the several years they have known each other.

Sonnetto wanted to press Tanya about what the problem was, but it felt like doing that would result in the same thing Sonnetto had heard from some of Tanya's exes. They would get to a point where they would insist that Tanya explain herself, and Tanya would refuse or, worse, lie. Then, their relationship would fall apart. Tanya was often oblivious about her own emotions due to a combination of subconscious repression and her brain functioning uniquely. Carefully talking to her about these emotions could bring them to the forefront of her mind, where she could notice them and process them more appropriately. The situations where Tanya was obviously lying, however, were what made relationships hard, if not impossible.

Sonnetto knew she had to press Tanya, though. She wanted to be one of Tanya's someones — not just the person who had to wait for Tanya to come home from her current use of stress-relief-oriented, surface-level relationships. Sonnetto wanted more than surface-level. A word did not exist for she wanted, but she knew she wanted it. She felt it every time she held Tanya. It was like Tanya was a possibility itself, and it was as ironic as it was painful that Tanya refused to accept the possibilities within herself.

Elya had often said that the "truth would set you free." On her birthday, Sonnetto would take Tanya on a date, and she would confess and ask for the truth that would free Tanya.

Speaking of the Devil, the blonde woman finally came out of the interrogation room. She looked like someone had spun her in circles several times. Sonnetto had been distracted with her own thoughts, so she had missed what had put Tanya in this state.

"So, how did it go?" Sonnetto inquired.

"They just tentatively promise me a meeting over coffee and maybe a dinner with Tanechka."

"Like a date?" the woman from Bactria had romance on her mind.

"Be serious, Sonnetto. I am not just having coffee with communists for frivolous reasons. This could be our big chance to catch her."

"What else would you two be doing together?"

"We have not figured that out yet. The Angels will get back to me closer to our meeting date."

"Do you think they will actually let you meet her if it would be a trap? They hate Interpol."

"That is the thing. They love me for some unfathomable reason, or so they say. They always do this thing where they know exactly how to get under my skin. This is just like that one time the commies put me in a cell full of things they knew would trigger me. I bet they planned this whole scheme with coffee ahead of time. They know all my weaknesses. Damn, commies. All they do is cause me grief."

Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss said that last part aloud.

"Weiss!" came a heavy voice.

Senior Officer Johann Armstrong had stopped a few feet behind Tanya. He had just happened to be in the hallway when Tanya had vented her age-old contempt against her hated foe. This foe of hers just happened to be people belonging to an increasingly popular ideological faction in global politics in this new era of revolution. This, in turn, meant more Interpol officers were coming from communist nations or had joined their local parties. One just so happened to be one of Tanya's superiors.

"Sir!"

"In my office now."

Sonnetto did warn her.

Hopefully, the sensitivity training will help Tanya.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Household in François-controlled Dzayer, Southern Continent - 5th of March, 1950

Edmond Perez nursed some scotch as he turned on the television to see what the news would say about what he and his ground had done. A sense of dread and inevitability ate at him.

"This is your World News report for the 13th of February, 1950," began the news anchor. "The Unified States has declared war on its southern neighbor, the Aztec Empire, claiming their god decrees that the Unified States should expand until it spans from the northern top of the Americas to the very bottom."

The League of Nations ran the World News Channel. The channel had an increasingly anti-colonial perspective due to the growing sway the Russy Federation and the Coalition of Freed Nations had on the international community and, by extension, the League of Nations. The Coalition were all former colonies that had banded together in a defensive, economic, and diplomatic pact in order to balance the power dynamics between the European powers. They struggled to maintain their unity due to some being theocracies, others liberal democracies, and some communist dictatorships of the proletariat.

Edmond Perez had worked with the Silver Legion by supplying them with "resources" for some kind of experiment, but he was too focused on his own fate. All that mattered to him now was the following news story. He took another swig of his scotch as the buzz started.

"Our next story involves the ongoing Dzayer Revolution for independence—," the news anchor began.

"It isn't a revolution; they're terrorists!" Edmond raged. The veteran mage hated the anchor's immediate anti-François bias in the coverage and just had to shout at the television every time they used terms that framed his country as the villains in the story.

"As part of the Tanechka's agreement with International Prosecutors in exchange for her Angels' freedom, she has submitted purported evidence of crimes against non-mages by mages and crimes against humanity—"

"What about the magical explosives and crimes against non-mages by the fucking terrorist mages!"

"—committed allegedly by the François Republic as well as extremist paramilitary groups. The—"

"The real extremists are those trying to tear our country apart!"

"— The Russy Federation has joined the Coalition of Freed States in issuing sanctions against the François Republic, and several countries, notably including Germania, have signaled they will too if Interpol confirms Tanechka's reports."

"It is rich that those krauts fucking accusing us of war crimes after what they did in Arene." His drunkenness had not quite yet robbed him of his eloquence. He had to take another draft. There was simply no way for him to watch what the international community thought of his beloved country without getting dead-ass drunk.

The news anchor continued in complete ignorance of Edmond Perez's stream of complaints about their coverage. "Albion, Ildoa, and the Unified States, who have all been vocal critics of international accountability as violating their national sovereignty, have sworn to stand by the François Republic in their efforts to suppress the nationalist movement in their colony in the Southern Continent."

"It isn't a colony! Dzayer is part of the François Republic! It is the southern half of…of…my country. I was born here, dammit! And so were my parents, and so was my…." He wiped his eyes and took another swig of his scotch before continuing. "Those seditious bastards want to kick us out of our own damn country!"

The somber anchor moved on to the next part of the news story. "What has the League of Nations most concerned are reports of a paramilitary group of mages allegedly conducting an air raid on civilians, killing many children and those undergoing medical treatment."

The screen displayed aerial photographs of the attack. Edmond Perez did not know how Tanechka and her Angels had gotten those photos, but he knew those scenes very well. He knew because he had led that raid himself.

He did not care that his group killed children. The seditious terrorists had killed children, too. They had killed his little boy in one of their magical explosive attacks. Mages could place explosion spells on objects, and if someone moved them, they would explode. The Germanians supposedly did that on dead bodies against Dacia to horrifying effect. Now, the Dzayerian mages were employing the same spell on innocuous things that would likely be moved like a full trash bag on the street. The news that Edmond typically read would almost exclusively talk about those damned bags and other crimes of the Dzayerian seditious mages — all with the most gruesome photos and rage-inducing headlines. Edmond vowed never to stop until every last so-called "revolutionary" was dead, and he would kill their families, too, so that they knew how he felt. It was justice, plain and simple, to him.

"Arrest warrants have already been issued for the ones allegedly responsible for the horrifying attack that happened only a couple of days ago, allegedly. Since the crime allegedly involves mage-on-non-mage violence, the International Court has assigned the Mages of Interpol 15 to investigate as well."

The screen then displayed pictures of Edmond Perez and his whole battalion of like-minded mages — the real patriots, in his view. Then, the news channel had a short Germanian woman and a man in a mask address reporters about how they were going to conduct the investigation.

Edmond Perez knew what he would do. Using his last bit of sobriety, he rang his contact in a criminal organization in Germania called the Ringvereine (Ring Clubs), which had supplied Edmond and his crew with military-grade mono cores. He might not have liked working with Germanians, but they had cores and were willing to sell them to him.

"Hi, it's me, Edmond. Do whatever you have to, but get that Agent Nichts to…uh…conclude that the Red Army asshole is lying."

His contact started negotiating a price.

"I don't care how much it costs. Take my family's villa. I don't care. Just put a…a leash on Interpol's favorite hunting dog."

Knowing Nichts by reputation, she would stop at nothing until he and all of his men and women were locked away for good if not executed. He was confident that despite the controversy it would cause, she would never recuse herself. That woman cared for nothing but bringing criminals down.

---

Patroling above Berun - 11th of March, 1950

I absolutely planned to recuse myself from the Dzayer investigation.

I glided through the skies as Agent Nichts during my regular patrols for mage crime. We looked like dots from the ground. While people could still tell we were up there, that distance was acceptable for the non-mages who remembered the war. The excuse for an Interpol officer doing patrols was just the need for aerial mages to fly regularly for our training and sanity. Flying was just as much a need for us as eating and sleeping were.

Being up here was also an excellent time to reflect upon my current situation.

I had the forms all prepared for who would be on the investigation team in Dzayer, and my recusal was necessary if I was going to navigate this hairy situation tactfully. I was a Germanian war vet, which would have just thrown oil on an already blazing fire of controversy on the continent. Interpol did not need any more accusations of bias in our organization reaching the front page of national newspapers in Albion and the François Republic.

Even if I weren't a vet, I would have searched for any excuse not to be handling this case. I hated getting between two sides of the League of Nations. No matter what you do, you make enemies. Your friends there would leave you alone, but your enemies would turn the screws on you until you quit.

In my past life, since it was so hard to fire some of your employees in Japan, you would just make their workplace experience unbearable. Assign them to an office far away from everyone else, for example. Maybe use it as a storage room while they are in it. Then, give them absolutely no work to do. Then, just wait until the pressure gets to them, and they quit on their own.

In this life and recently, I have already had several pointless inspections and reviews of my service record at Interpol. The national representatives were sure they would find something suspicious about me, but Elya was nothing if not thorough. That did not stop those critics from requesting redundant reports explaining Laurence's actions in detail. In the end, I had to suspend him without pay, which I was going to do anyway for non-political reasons.

Despite wearing my Nichts outfit, I still felt the urge to groan at my situation. I knew it was not something you were supposed to do at the job, even if no one could hear me up here in the sky.

Another thing I wasn't supposed to do was daydream, and yet I could not help it sometimes while patrolling. The battlefield played a significant role in my daydreams. It was a place where all I had to do was point and shoot at anyone with a different colored uniform than mine.

Sadly, I lived in reality and had to deal with the uncivilized world of police work. For starters, I couldn't just kill all the commies I wanted anymore. Instead, I regularly had to work with them. My invectives towards the Reds had recently resulted in me being sent to the same sensitivity training course I helped design. Sonnetto had pressed me to soften my stance. It would take work to break some old habits of thought.

Furthermore, the criminal world most certainly did not make it easy for us to find them by following the rules of war and wearing uniforms. Well, some gangsters and those evil shirt enthusiasts, also known as fascists, did, but they were the exception to the rule. Worse, sometimes criminals go so far as to wear our own colors. While I was a peace-loving individual, like any rational member of society, I did sometimes grow nostalgic for the 20s.

Enough daydreaming for me, though. I had to deal with the present mess my team and I all found ourselves in. I had thought Laurence's decision not to recover the stolen artifacts was terrible enough, but communists always found a way to make any situation worse. They were one of the very few things they were good at.

Basically, by giving us evidence that required Interpol's intervention, Tanechka had turned Interpol into an instrument for furthering her communist aims. In this case, she wanted to support the right of self-determination of oppressed peoples. I hated it enough when politicians abused the system to get me knee-deep into the middle of some power play between oligarchs. The only time a Red Notice from a politician hadn't gotten me directly involved with some game of thrones was when I rescued Sonnetto. Now, having a communist abuse the system to get me to play their geopolitical games frustrated me a hundred times more.

As much as the desire for freedom and control over one's fate resonated with me, I now had an incredible amount of pressure and scrutiny on me from the higher-ups in the League of Nations. Laurence will lead the investigation of the alleged crimes of Edmond Perez and his covert paramilitary group. I will technically be there as extra muscle in case something happens, but otherwise, I will just be there to observe. It would be an excellent opportunity to do some much-needed remedial training on his lackluster leadership skills. Honestly, I would have lengthened his suspension without pay even longer, but I needed him for this case.

As for the François Republic, they had already started railing preemptively against our interference in their domestic national affairs. Ironically, they helped write the same rules that gave the League of Nations and Interpol the authority to intervene in crimes committed by mages across the globe. Back in 1933, the François pushed for these rules primarily to empower the International Court to persecute Germanian mages and their superiors for their war crimes. Now, they were getting a taste of their own medicine.

In other news, Sonnetto had been acting strange again. The last time was right before Sreud hypnotized me. I was sure she would broach the subject of our relationship from all my experience with these kinds of situations. Perhaps she wanted to leave me, too. I wouldn't blame her after I canceled our vacation to the Akitsuhima Dominion without any explanation a few years ago and my refusal to talk about it again this year. I had been explaining how the Akinese treat foreigners and what to expect. I went even so far as to explain what it would be like for her if we ever moved there for retirement or because we changed branches.

Then, something happened to me. I don't know how to describe it well. One moment, I had been discussing all of this, and Sonnetto had interjected that it was helpful that I knew this information for both of our sakes. The next moment, I ended the conversation abruptly, went into my room, and locked the door. Sonnetto had to call my superior for me to let them know I wouldn't be going to work that day. It was a rather bizarre and unexpected situation, which I hope doesn't repeat. Sonnetto pressed me for an explanation, but some things should not be said.

I remember how Sonnetto sat in bed this morning, staring up at the ceiling. I was cutting apples and dipping them in chemicals, which she needed in order to eat the food. That was when I had this profound sense of deja vu.

I could not place it precisely. My hunch was that it might have been similar to how my exes and former housemates all ultimately left me. Not wanting any drama that would undermine our professional relationship, I quickly finished preparing my treat for her to show I was an appreciative manager and got ready for work before she could start the conversation with me.

---

Immertreu, Berun - 12th of March, 1950

Sweat pooled in Otto Bückler's pits as he watched his boss eat walnuts. Even through the din of new-age music playing in the background, the livestock thief and once-murderer could see his boss' every purposeful and dreadful exertion of force.

Crunch

Munch

Crrrrrunnnnch

Munch

The big man, The Fist of Berun himself, stood in the middle of a room while a terrified female prostitute held a bull of walnuts for him to crush. He needed no specialized tools to pulverize his favorite food. Just his illegal dual-core computation orb in his ring, a strength enhancement spell, and his massive, meaty hands.

A blindfolded and restrained gangster wept quietly as she awaited whatever her fate would be for whatever her crime was against the boss.

"It is nice for you to join us, Otto, my boy."

Otto did not want to see this.

The Fist of Berun gestured to the restrained woman. "Bloody Mary here was such a good second-in-command once, but you know why she is here now?"

Otto gulped. "Uh…No…I mean, yes."

"It was a rhetorical question, Little Otto."

His boss liked calling others small or negligible. The Fist evidently derived pleasure in some private vengeance from the act of belittling.

Only those whom The Fist trusted knew his real name. For everyone else, he had many monikers, from Crusher to Johann the Ripper. Most people just called him The Fist.

Unlike the other Ring Clubs of Berun, which stuck to prostitution, sex trafficking, and less violent crime, The Fist and his goons took on the role of handling jobs that required a bit of threat behind them. The Fist was a tall, wide-shouldered man in a red suit, which supposedly obscured any blood stains from his work. People in the dark corners of the clubs whispered that his suit used to be white as snow, but the amount of blood on it just would never wash out. It wasn't true. The rumor was all part of projecting his power.

Despite The Fist's graying hair, the brute exuded an aura of menace that cowed men half his age. If you did not know to fear him, just him lifting one of his hands sent terror down your spine. Those hands had only ended one life but created a legend out of him, which he exploited every chance he got to keep his goons in line.

"She failed me. I don't tolerate failure. When I ask you something of you, it is because I know you can do it. It is because I trust you. You know what it means if you fail?"

He did not answer this time. Otto knew better.

The Fist smiled, revealing his canines.

"You are learning already. It means that they lied to me. They took my trust and spit on it. They cheated me. They are doing something they are not supposed to do. Does that make sense?"

…

The Fist frowned and then shouted. "Does that make sense?!"

"Uh…no…I mean, yes!"

The Fist rolled his eyes. "Fuck my life. Well, that is what I get for hiring people who got caught."

Otto had been sent to the leech den, where mages serve out their sentences. The Ring Clubs offered mono-cores rings to mages and employment in their sometimes less-than-legal enterprises as bouncers, smugglers, and traffickers of the sex and drugs variety.

"Look, Mary here has been keeping a cut of the revenue for herself and her friends, thinking she can start her own operation. I've got to wait for her buddies to get here and fork over my money."

The Fist took this moment to make his point clear by getting right down to eat level with Bloody Mark. "Because if they don't come soon, I might just lose patience."

The poor woman barely kept herself together.

Standing back up, he faced Otto again. Then he snapped his fingers, and the nervous woman waiting on him rushed to get a manilla folder like her life depended on it.

Her life did depend on it, Otto reminded himself as he felt a pang of sympathy.

Being here meant that she was not getting rest for the long night later. She would need it in order to hit her quota for her pimp. Failing to meet that would come with painful consequences. It did not help that being around The First was purposefully nerve-wracking in the extreme.

"Now pay attention," The Fist commanded before passing the folder to Otto. "This is your job. It is simple. Find that man at that address. Bring him to me here. We need him as a hostage to convince an old friend of yours, Agent Nichts, to sink the Dzayer case for a client of ours. Inside this folder, you have pictures of the man, his known residence, and all the details you will need. There is even Agent Nichts' computation orb address for communication spells. I was going to have you contact her, but…Well, I don't think you will have the right effect I am looking for."

Otto saw a picture of his target, a man in his late twenties with a mullet cut, standing next to Agent Nichts. The two were holding hands. Was he her boyfriend? The file indicated the two were close but not much else. It also had a record that a mental asylum had recently released the man from a mental asylum.

He did not get to ponder long as his boss decided to have another snack.

Crunch. Munch.

"So, Little Otto, how many goons do you think you need to bring this mook to me?"

"Three," the hitman guessed. He and three others should be plenty to take down one guy.

"Take five. Remember, I want you to succeed, so I will make it so you can't fail. Right now, he is with one of his friends in a flat at that address. Bring him back as soon as possible. We don't have a lot of time to pull off this operation, and the client has paid top dollar to get this done by today. I have already brought reinforcements for this place if those dunces from Interpol actually show up."

Otto nodded.

"Well, don't just stand there. Get him now!"

"Yeah, boss."

Otto did not waste time. He got two of the other mages with rings and three other mundie goons. Then they all jumped into their Folksmobile, going straight for the address they were given.

---

S&T Flat, Berun - 12th of March 1950

"Ouch. How do you do a K?" Laurence "Laurence" Drake wondered as he stretched his sore hand. The diagrams were helpful, but some letters in sign language required a bit more spatial context for him that a 2-D picture could not convey.

"Look at mine." Matheus Johann Weiss demonstrated his K for the crime-fighting thespian to copy.

Laurence had spent the majority of his unpaid vacation/suspension with Matheus. The two had hit it off pretty well. For starters, the once-mind-controlled Germanian needed to get back in shape, and Laurence was more than happy to have someone join him at the gym. Matheus had gone from a bit underweight to fit in no time. The illusionist quickly realized that his gym partner had some ridiculously high standards for the kind of training he needed to be in peak condition.

Agent Nichts had slammed the book on Laurence when he got back. Endangering a "civilian" by involving her directly in the apprehension of terrorists, reckless command got the same Interpol agent killed…twice, and not prioritizing the artifacts were the most notable reasons for his suspension.

His commander had also complained about how the papers claimed that the Mages of Interpol had anti-mundie bias because they had only killed a non-mage and spared all the mages. By the way, she had spoken about the controversy, it almost sounded like she wanted him to have killed the communist mages instead of taking them in. But that couldn't be right, could it? Sure, negotiating with Tanechka must have come with more headaches for the higher-ups in Interpol, but we should prioritize non-lethal takedowns whenever possible.

…Hopefully, the sensitivity training has helped her. I don't feel comfortable working with someone who has a deadly level of prejudice.

On top of his poor evaluation, the blue-eyed disciplinarian gave him some new expectations.

A few of them involved his inability to leverage Sonnetto's abilities on the battlefield properly. First, she does not want Sonnetto to be used as a kamikaze, which he had to ask what that meant. When she did explain, he assured her that was not his intention, but Tanya had given that directive to her housemate as well. She told him that it was his job to make sure that when he was in command, he set expectations for his subordinates in order to avoid problematic behavior like self-sacrifice in the field.

Second, he was to learn sign language, which had brought him to this situation with Matheus. Even though Agent U was working with some of the scientists from the Greater Andea Confederacy and the Persian branches on developing thought-to-speech spells that innate magic users like Sonnetto could use, the illusionist knew that waiting or even relying on untested magetech was not wise. They might even be in a situation where they needed to stop casting spells in order to stealth up to their enemies. If that happened, he would be almost hopeless in communicating with the third in command for the Mages of Interpol 15 without sign language.

The Interpol officer was not the only one who needed a break after all this learning.

Matheus popped his back and got up. After glancing at the window for what must have been the third time during their training exercise, the mage veteran headed to the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink, Laurence?"

"Tea, please."

"There isn't any."

When in Ildoa….

"Coffee then?"

"What brand?"

Matheus listed several premium Persian and Andean brands of coffee.

"Any Aegyptus brands?"

Of course, there was one. The short blonde co-renter was a proud member of the Coffee of the Month club. While each brand came in little tins, she possessed quite a variety.

Laurence took a moment to take in the flat around him while he waited for his drink. The place definitely reflected the two occupants well.

First, he turned to what was clearly Sonnetto's space. The crimson-eyed officer's side had a shelf dedicated to a handful of ornamental blades from across the globe. Next to a record player lay a box of vinyl records of new-age music.

Not far from her music, Sonnetto had a writing desk where his coworker kept a series of journals. Each journal had a label for its date range and went back about two years. Given their size and quantity, the alchemical woman wrote quite a lot. Interestingly, her most recent one looked placed there by someone else with a note tucked in it.

There was also a painting space next to the window. Laurence did not know Sonnetto had taken to painting. Her supplies had their boxes and other containers organized on a desk. A mat under Sonnetto's painting station had quite a few splotches on it.

Laurence then noticed a painting on her easel and turned towards the large window leading up the alleyway, which opened up towards the north, giving consistent light to the space.

He walked up to it and grimaced when he saw what exactly Sonnetto had painted. She had made a provocative piece in some contemporary style he did not know, and it depicted the emotional landscape of her recent experiences in Albion, including her treatment at the airport, her first death, her meal with Polyxena, and her second death.

Tanya's brow-beating hit him even harder now, knowing this. How often had he actually spoken to Sonnetto during the trip? How much had any of them had? The woman always kept her expressions so minute, and then there was the fact that she was…

That was an excuse. It was on him for not making the effort to communicate with Sonnetto. There were always other ways to communicate besides sign language. Writing, standard word cards, and even simple gestures would have been better than just talking at her whenever he needed to affect leadership.

Reflecting on his actions further, Laurence could not help but notice every time he decided not to engage with his fellow agent. It wasn't just because she had tattoos or her intense crimson eyes. It was that he did not want to do anything wrong or fail in the communication. The thespian lacked the very script of how to engage with someone like Sonnetto.

Outside Tanya's example, he reminded himself. It was the only script he had, which was why he would do as the blonde had and learn how to engage with each one of his teammates.

To think he had prided himself on his ability to empathize and work with women. This was a world where there was a lot of callous disregard and friction with women in the workplace from men — at least, outside of mage spaces. He would derive a bit of pleasure from guiding men like Fang, who needed to adjust to this new paradigm. Yet here, he had let another myopia of his fester unchecked that rendered painfully clear how selfish his emotions were. He even knew about this festering because one does not avoid communicating with someone without the intention to do so, especially when that someone is a teammate.

In the whole painting, Laurence did not appear once. His absence there was not a slap in the face but an indication of his lack of leadership in his interpretation of the piece. He may have cleverly defeated Borislava. He even thought he must have been the hero that day, for he walked away from that massive explosion while holding the woman he once loved on his shoulder. It was like a scene from a movie, and he had been the main character for once.

That was not what Sonnetto saw, though. She remembered flinging herself into a situation against a foe she was not prepared to fight—one that demanded she gamble on her regeneration ability yet again. She had trusted him out of professional expectations and due to her training under Agent Nichts. Did he deserve any of that trust? He wondered.

Sighing, Laurence turned towards Tanya's side of the flat.

Where Sonnetto's side plainly proclaimed her passions, thoughts, and emotions, Tanya's was so unassuming and office-like that it was conspicuous in the absence of her inner world there. An overstuffed filing cabinet lay near a desk. It had locks that went beyond the standard affair one could get at an office store. One would be excused to think Tanya just felt at home in an office, but that may as well be like any disguise Laurence employed out in the field.

The only things on Tanya's bookshelf that communicated interests outside her work life were her volumes of economics textbooks and a collection of novels from a Russy-American author named Andrew Ryan. Separate from that collection proudly stood a signed copy of the egoist novelist's Skyscraper. Laurence had no interest in either economics or Ryan. The textbooks were too dry, and the author was too inflammatory for his tastes.

The spy in Laurence wanted a grand reveal. Who was real Agent Nichts behind the mask? What was he not seeing? What had he missed?

He had gotten a few clues when they were at the Berun office. After the bucket of cold water from looking at Sonnetto's world had been dumped on him, Laurence paid much more attention. The bizarrely touchy-feely Tanya von Weiss, after she came out of her holding cell, now practically screamed at him that something was up with his Captain.

Once Matheus finished the coffee, the Germanian man noticed Laurence's mood. Making firm but not overbearing eye contact with the thespian, Matheus inquired what was wrong.

Laurence confessed his sense of inadequacy as a vice commander and his thoughts while touring the main living space of the flat.

"That was something I had to learn, too," Matheus confessed. "You served in the Great War, too?"

Laurence could not answer due to his prior profession.

"It is okay. I get it. You did not see a lot of the frontlines by the looks of it, but there are always traces of the battlefield on a person, especially for us mages for some reason."

Then Matheus looked out the window, and Laurence followed his gaze. There was nothing to see—just an alleyway and gray clouds.

What was so interesting about it?

The mage veteran did not answer Laurence's private musing but instead followed his own line of reasoning. "The human brain is not capable of processing certain things. Explosions like what we had to deal with on a regular basis in the Rhine are not experiences that happen in nature very often. We did not know how much it would affect our soldiers until we had an epidemic of Rhine Dreams on our hands. We tried to find any way to help them and not just because we wanted to win the war."

It made sense that even Albion's enemy, the "evil" Empire, had familial-like bonds between their troops. It was just not something you thought about regarding your enemy when waging war. It was a lot harder to gin up public support when you were killing people whom you recognized felt love, too.

"When you experience something shocking or grief-inducing, the default healthy thing to do is let those emotions run their course, preferably with someone at your side to reassure you," Matheus claimed. He clearly had been reading about this subject for an unknown reason. "But as soldiers, we often had to put those emotions on hold in order to complete the mission."

Matheus walked over to Agent Nichts' desk and found a photo stuffed in between the two volumes of Capital and Interest by Eugen Böhm von Cawerk.

"This went even further for our commander," the man with a mullet stated as he handed the photo to Laurence.

It was taken around the midpoint of the war in the Russy Federation. Agent Nichts stood with all her troops, celebrating what they thought would be the end of the war. They did not yet know that the hardline Tarken faction would reject the Ildoan-negotiated peace proposal.

All Laurence could think was how small and frail she looked. The girl looked years younger than she actually was even then due to the stress and malnutrition that had delayed and hampered her growth. Why did anyone allow her to fight? Did they not think about how it would affect her?

"In leadership," Matheus continued while his interlocutor reviewed the photograph. "You can get trapped looking strong for your troops and delaying your own catharsis until everyone you are responsible for is taken care of. What if you don't know how to stop looking strong? What do you think happens when someone never releases all those built-up repressed emotions?"

Laurence did not know, and Matheus did not answer his own questions for the thespian. They kind of just sat there drinking for a bit in silence together, waiting for someone to say something.

Matheus broke the silence first.

"You want to be competent like Tanya?"

This question surprised Laurence because it seemed to come out of nowhere. Laurence simply nodded.

Matheus sighed. "I don't know what you think Tanya is, but her version of competence will destroy you."

That sounded ominous. "What do you mean?"

"Going back to your earlier question about how to be a better vice commander in Tanya's team, you don't do that by being Tanya. Yes, you need to be ready if anything happens to your commander. When you take command, your subordinates will need you. They will expect you to pick up where she left off. You will want them to feel comfortable with your leadership and meet those expectations they have for you. To respect you like they already do your CO; however, you don't accomplish that by acting just like your CO. If you are doing that, then you haven't been a good XO at all. If you have worked with them a long time and have the leadership chops, they should already feel comfortable and respectful of your leadership when your time to step up comes."

Laurence felt there was a story behind this speech. Had Matheus needed to step up when Agent Nichts suddenly could not lead her troops?

There was a question the spy had to ask aloud, though. "Is something wrong with her that I should know?"

Matheus took a draught of his coffee — a bitter brew softened with a bit of cream. "I cannot go into detail since that is something for her to tell, and I would not do it justice. You are also her subordinate."

The Germanian man took another draught of his coffee and then turned to Laurence again. "I will instead tell you that you need to be there both for your subordinates and your commander. It might seem obvious now to listen to your fellow teammates and make sure they are as prepared, focused, and healthy as possible for the next threat. It may also seem obvious that your superior will need help too."

Laurence felt a "But" incoming.

"But what is not obvious," Matheus continued, giving him the advice he had requested, "Is that you need to be so proactive about it. You need to constantly predict the future needs of your subordinates and CO. You need to predict future threats to them as well. As Tanya will tell you, if you are reacting, you are losing, and in this line of work, that means death — as you found out. After prognosticating, then you need to take the initiative, within the boundaries of your command, to set up the means of success and survival for men and women at your side."

The whole time Tanya's former XO spoke, Laurence sensed an image of Agent Nichts from back then during the war. Did she gaze towards the future as well when she led her troops? While Agent lacked the empathy Matheus clearly demonstrated, Matheus showed a lot of respect for his adoptive daughter's ability.

Then, an idea struck Matheus: "I do want to know how Tanya, your Agent Nichts, has been handling things in my absence."

"I thought her situation was private?"

"That is because you are her subordinate. I am her family. I have the right to know. She is not telling me something important. I don't want it to hurt her."

While he had spent a lot of time with Matheus, Agent Nichts had been too busy to interact with the two of them. Laurence did not know the extent of what the father knew about his daughter since coming out of mind control.

It couldn't be that he doesn't know she is gay, right? I really don't want to get involved in that discussion unless it is to stand up for my CO.

Then, a knock came at the door, interrupting their discussions.

Matheus went to get the door.

Then, the next few moments flash by Laurence's eyes. It was all so fast.

The person at the door had not been Mary. That was obvious. He shoved Matheus back with magically enhanced strength, sending him flying at the coffee table, breaking it in half with his weight and momentum.

"Hey, we need him alive," another guy declared. "Don't rough him up too badly."

Laurence saw the two mages in the lead with rings on their hands. As three non-mages moved towards the thespian, Matheus recovered quickly to face the mages. Laurence did not have his scepter or mask, so as the plain-old Laurence, he had to quickly figure out how to win while outnumbered in this unexpected situation.

Laurence inched towards Sonnetto's side of the room. The three goons knew enough to approach together. One-on-one, the thespian might have won, but not against all of them at once. That was why he needed to do what he did best—get creative.

He finally reached Sonnetto's collection of ornamental weapons, which were still functional as lethal force multipliers. Forgive me, Agent Sonnetto. He took the meanest looking sword, a Germanian zweihander.

"Prepare yourselves, you cretins!" Laurence affected knightly confidence while raising the blade in what would have looked great on a stage. "For you face me, Sir Lionel of Bath. You may not have heard of me, but not only am I a mage who fought the Devil of the Rhine and lived, but I am a master of the blade, trained in family's esteem and ancient arts. Know this: if any of your limbs cross that line, they will be chopped off forsooth."

The three paused and noticed the edge of Sonnetto's painting map. None of them wanted to lose a limb. As silly as his speech was, he had said it so confidently. Plus, Interpol in this new world (after the war, that is) had many colorful characters. They chose to stop at the line and were temporarily cowed by his intimidating swagger.

That gave Laurence a moment to look over to Matheus.

The Germanian war vet did something that the Interpol officer had never seen. When one of the mages overextended a punch, Matheus grabbed onto it and then hijacked his enemy's small computation orb. He then ran the strength enhancement formula on himself and knocked out his first opponent.

The other enemy mage, a short man with a bunch of nerves, went for his pistol under tucked in his pants under his vest. As the enemy mage fumbled to pull out his gun, Matheus ripped off the ring from the first mage. Then, one more mage had just arrived at the door, and he looked like he might be a real threat.

"I need you to come with me," the man with the pistol claimed with a bit of a stutter. "Or he will—"

While this was going on, the three men near Laurence suddenly became much less afraid of the Germanian zweihander and its wielder and started coming at him.

Matheus then went for a tackle, but not for the man with the pistol — for Laurence. The Germanian war vet activated a weak barrier spell that might block a knife or a single gunshot, and then he barrelled through the three non-mages around the thespian. Matheus grabbed Laurence with magically enhanced strength, causing the thespian to drop his blade, which he didn't even have a proper grip on. Then Matheus defenestrated himself through the large window near the painting station. Laurence was in his arms. Glass went everywhere but did not pierce the barrier.

The man with the pistol had shot several times during all of this. Two went wide. One actually grazed his ally and had unfortunately cut into the gangster's artery. The last shot pierced Matheus's barrier and nicked the veteran in the arm. It was clear that the pistol wielder did not want to kill Matheus, which made the escape possible.

They landed on the ground in the alley, where Matheus let Laurence back on his feet.

"Follow me." Matheus did not pause as he ran along some route through Berun that he had clearly planned.

The man definitely practices what he preaches, the thespian thought when he could think again. Had he been considering potential escape routes during our whole conversation?

Laurence had a lot to learn from this man.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Somewhere in Berun, 12th of March 1950

After an hour of navigating the back alleys and hiding, Matheus Johann Weiss felt the two were clear. They had taken cover in an old abandoned building near some squatters. No one paid them any mind.

Laurence had dressed Matheus with some clean rags they had bartered for by their politely discreet neighbors.

"Okay, it looks good," the thespian claimed after inspecting his work. "How do you feel?"

"I will manage fine, thank you."

"Don't mention it. You saved my life."

"It did not seem to be you that they were after."

They did send three mages and shot at Matheus even if they were not going for the kill.

"Then what was their plan?" Laurence pondered aloud.

"I have no idea, but we need to contact Interpol."

"You have that ring," the Albish man with green eyes reminded Matheus. "Does it have a communication spell in it?"

They had been so focused on making sure that Matheus would be okay and avoiding detection they avoided using unnecessary magic. They also wanted to avoid getting anyone else involved if things got serious.

Matheus tapped the computation orb in the ring. He felt something like a communication spell in it, but he needed to become more familiar with this device or new spells. The address for Tanya's dual-core fit into the preset place just fine.

It might work, Matheus thought, putting in a bit of mana.

It bounced off something, but it did not form a connection. Either Tanya did not have her dual-core, which was unlikely given her personality, or the spell was not for communication, he figured.

"I don't know if it works. I don't have the tools to check the formulae in this device to see if it is supposed to be a communication spell or not."

"We should not stay here much longer," Laurence decides. "Let us head to the Interpol office. I think that is better than potentially alerting the other mobsters where we are."

"We will have to go through a club district to get there."

"I think we can manage if we keep to the back alleys. I don't want to go out on the streets and get a cab until we are fully out of this area."

With that, they headed out.

After about twenty minutes of zig-zagging through, they spotted someone familiar.

"Tan—"

Laurence held him back and gestured to get quiet. The former spy leaned ever so slightly as to see what was going on. Whispering, Laurence explained what he saw.

"I see Tanya, Sonnetto, and Calamity, but the people around them are The Fist's goons. Those are probably the people who tried to capture us."

"Did they get captured too, you think?" Matheus wondered. "Also, who is The Fist?"

"I don't know if they were captured. They are in their casual clothes, and both of them are supposed to be working today. The Fist is a ruthless mob boss who blackmails anyone who is a threat to the Ring Clubs or their clients. Rumor is that he is a mage who tears people apart with his bare hands."

Matheus felt fear spike. "Why would those three be here then? What is happening to them now?"

"We don't know. One of the thugs grabbed Agent Nichts and shoved her to the ground. Then he kicked her."

Matheus had it. He was going out there.

Laurence held him back barely. The man had not fully recovered his strength, but he had several inches on the thespian.

"We have to be tactful about this, or we are going to get in danger, too. Okay, now, they let her get back up, and she is going inside with them."

"We have to get in there and make sure she gets out in one piece."

"We have to get to Interpol," Laurence replied. "I am on suspension, and you are a civilian."

"I am also her family. I am not going to let some thugs attack my family."

"Nichts will be livid if we mess this up."

"Tanya can be upset. People have to stop enabling her. What is important right now is that those three could be in danger. I am not losing any more family."

"Okay, okay," the thespian did his best to keep Matheus from rushing a bunch of gangsters who had gathered in front of a club down the street. "Calm down. I have a plan."

Laurence took a moment to take a deep breath. The black-haired aerial mage had a feeling that his buddy was still coming up with said plan.

"Okay, first you have to look the part," the green-eyed Albish man began. Matheus let him adjust his appearance. "First, let's get your hair a bit messy."

"Those bozos out front looked like they put a lot of money into their hair."

"Yeah, but that is to make them stand out and lend an air of romanticism to their thuggery. We want to fade to the background."

Matheus nodded. Well, he was an actor, so he would know better than me about being a background character.

"Next," Laurence continued, "Let's undo a few buttons. You don't want to look like a square."

"Are we done?" Matheus pressed. He did not want to wait any longer.

"Yeah."

Matheus followed Laurence down the alleys to the back of the building The Fist's goons had brought those three Interpol officers. He was surprised when the thespian pulled out a device that looked like a Waldstatten Army knife, but instead of blades and tweezers, it had various lockpicks.

"Where—"

"Let's just focus on saving Nichts."

With that, they snuck into the club Immertreu, where the goons had brought the three women, but as the door shut behind them, Matheus would have sworn he heard someone call out his name.

---

Near the club Immertreu in Berun, 12th of March 1950
5 minutes after Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya entered the club

Investigator Sue was on her allotted flight time when she heard gunshots. It took her a while to find the crime scene — Sonnetto and Tanya's apartment, much to her surprise. It had been ransacked with blood all over the floor. After contacting her superior, Mary Sue searched for the perps or Matheus, who was supposedly at the residence.

"Captain, I am checking the vicinity for signs of their location," Investigator Sue communicated with her superior. While her magic had changed with her transformation, a lot of her training just involved learning how to use it safely. She could not be the judge, jury, and executioner. It would not be suitable for her to impose her justice without accountability.

"We have already sent a team to investigate the crime scene," her Captain answered. "I tried reaching Tanya, but she is not in the office or picking up on her orb for some reason. Something is happening, and as the mage on location, you are depending on you to save Matheus. Wherever he is, that is probably where Tanya is."

While Mary Sue had a sense that Captain Weiss was no average Germanian veteran, the way her captain spoke of the blonde woman indicated a sense of debt and duty. Mary Sue could sometimes pick up on people's feelings of guilt. Captain Müller had plenty of guilt, especially when compared to Mrs. Weiss, who only occasionally had spikes of it. To put it in other words, Müller had a constant level of background guilt behind her actions, while Tanya von Weiss had particular triggers and would turn off her guilt when it got too intense.

Then Sue finally spotted Matheus and a man who looked very vaguely familiar. After relaying that information to her captain via communication spell, the investigator descended onto the street.

Her wings took time to learn how to use, but these magical mutations gave her a tactile sense of the magic keeping her aloft. Innate flying could never have the precision of computation orbs, but it felt great.

"Matheus!" the angelic officer called out after landing. A bunch of individuals with fancy modern hairstyles quickly surrounded her.

"It is Interpol," one of the fancy ruffians shouted, pointing a crowbar at Sue. "The boss suspected you might show up."

"Yes, I am with Interpol. I am on urgent Interpol business. I need to speak to—"

"You don't just get to come in on our turf and make demands."

"I am not trying to make—"

"No, you don't get to speak."

The well-coiffed individuals formed a tight circle around the angelic officer. She did not have room to spread her wings and fly away. If Sue hit any of them, it would be on her head. The law was highly biased against mages when it came to violence. Even self-defense could result in the mage doing time if they hurt their non-mage assailant. The specific circumstances under which mages could use magic in self-defense were intentionally limited to discourage this kind of behavior.

Investigator Sue activated the communication spell. Her transformation had turned it into a celestial sigil on her wrist. She lifted her wrist to her mouth and spoke into the sigil.

"She is casting something. Get her!" Before she could say anything, the ruffian swung her crowbar.

"Officer Sue, what is wrong?!" Müller had overheard the ruffian's shout. While only Sue could hear her captain, Müller could listen to everything within a short distance from the angelic veteran.

"Stop, we don't have to—"

Sue could not finish pleading with her attackers as they all started taking jabs at her.

"Feels shitty not being able to fight back, magdict, doesn't it?" one of the ruffians jeered.

"Magdict" was a pejorative used by non-mages towards mages. It conveyed the idea that mages were addicted to magic, which was a fraught issue among mages.

Pain seared through Mary Sue's right arm as the crowbar landed this time, breaking something. Magic automatically started flowing to that arm to mend it. This was not the worst Mary Sue had taken in the past. The Devil had shot her in the chest, and her abnormally high amount of magic kept her alive. She was not like Sonnetto, but she could bounce back from some injuries.

Pushing back her instinctual fear of pain, Officer Sue barrelled through the first opening she saw. Her wings took a battering, rendering them unfit for flight magic for at least a couple of minutes.

"Sue, what is your precise location?" Müller requested through the connection. She had the general location, but more information would make reinforcements faster. For whatever reason, the local police did not seem interested in getting involved at all.

"I don't know. Sorry, I need to focus. Under attack."

"All non-mages?"

"Yes…No, there are a few mages, but they have non-mages around them."

It was a classic problem between magical law enforcement and criminals. Non-mages became body shields for their mage counterparts. Sue could not fight without the risk of hurting the non-mages, but the magical goons did not have such a limitation.

Sue would have to hold out with whatever defensive magic she could muster until either she got authorization to use a level of force or non-magical reinforcements could take down the non-mages. The Interpol in Berun did not have as many non-magical human resources as local law enforcement, so this was more than complicated.

---

Somewhere in Berun, 12th of March 1950
65 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

Otto Bückler nervously fidgeted. This was really bad, super bad.

"Otto," came the voice of his boss through his ring. "Where is the hostage."

"He is with us. I promise!" He lied. Was he going to tell the truth and end up like Bloody Mary? No way!

"Well, get back here soon."

"Uh. We just have to take care of Karl. He got nicked in the neck and lost a lot of blood."

They had successfully stabilized the goon, but he would need plenty of rest. The doctor on The Fist's payroll would take care of him. Otto wanted more time to find this Matheus fellow. If he did not figure out something fast, the thief and his companions would be dead.

"We don't have time, Little Otto. This job needs to be completed as soon as possible. Every minute gives the coppers more time to ruin everything. If they don't scare you, I should. I want you here now with the hostage."

"Yes, boss! Will be there soon."

---

Immertreu in Berun, 12th of March 1950
63 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

Sue "The Fist" Rennolds popped his knuckles in stress. Only the upper echelons of his gang knew his name, and for good reason. If anyone were caught casually saying his name, he would go into a rage. His father decided it was a good idea to name him Sue. The Fist had gotten bullied relentlessly as a kid for it. The shame and dark memories associated with that name festered in him. Then, he grew bigger and stronger than those bullies. No one bullied him anymore. He was the one who hurt people and got to make them feel weak. He was The Fist now, or any other number of new strong names. No one dared say his birth name in his presence.

That was one reason Bloody Mary was in a gag. The woman had dared to try to get sympathy from him by using his name. Well, now she could not even beg for her life, not that he actually planned to take it. Dead bodies can't be scared of you, after all.

The clock ticked in the background of his office at the back of the club.

Every minute made him more anxious. He did an excellent job of converting that stress into an aurora of menace to keep his goons in line, but if he did not do something fast, everything could go up in smoke. The client needed this done today, and that was a lot of pressure. Just getting the files on a target who knew Nichts required paying someone off in Interpol and more precious time.

Bloody Mary cried out because his knuckle popping had alarmed her.

The Fist lost the remainder of his patience and called up Agent Nichts.

"Who is this? How do you have this core address?"

"Be quiet, or something will happen to your precious Matheus."

There was a muttered expletive, but the line soon went quiet.

"If you want nothing to happen to your boy toy, you have to follow our demands."

"He isn't my—"

"Shut up."

The line went quiet again. It was essential to control the conversation. Don't let them think. Make them feel urgency, so they act rashly.

"You interrupt again, and I will get mad. When I get mad, I hurt people."

His only actual hostage started whimpering.

"Don't interrupt me, Mary, or your fate will be worse than what I have planned for Matheus." He was lying, but The Fist needed to sell his ruse. Then, the mob boss grabbed Bloody Mary's hand and crushed it with enough force to break a bone or two. The woman wailed through her gag.

"Shit," Agent Nichts swore before going silent. Good, she understands the stakes.

He proceeded to instruct the mysterious Interpol Agent on what she needed to do with the Dzayer case.

---

Interpol HQ in Berun, 12th of March 1950
67 Minutes before Sonnetto and Tanya enter the club

Amber Canary (aka Calamity Amb) sat across from Captain Weiss at her office desk.

Amber did not know why she had two superiors at first until she had orientation and learned that Agent Nichts of the South Germania Office and Captain Tanya von Weiss were the same person. That had not shocked the ever-child as much as knowing that her temporary superior was the Devil of the Rhine. She had a conniption fit. She didn't care what they said. That mana signature was the Devil's.

Now that Devil was doing a huge favor for Amber.

"Thanks for helping with my asylum papers, Captain."

"Paperwork is not that difficult. In the future, you will be expected to fill out your own."

"I promise I will learn Germanian real fast, ma'am."

"That would be helpful."

She never imagined having the Devil of the Rhine, who had killed so many of the Allies' soldiers, help with your paperwork. To say it was bizarre was an understatement, but the world had a way of surprising people. The centennial gunslinger wouldn't break that nasty NDA ever, but after getting to know her superior better, she put aside her grudge. Amber was not a bounty hunter, and she saw a debt when she saw one. All this help getting her out of being conscripted into the Silver Legion's war on the Aztecs meant a lot.

It then got awkwardly quiet for a moment.

Amber decided to break the ice. "You know an Ildoan filmmaker reached out to me to help with his next big motion picture. I didn't know you Europeans liked Westerns, but I was so happy to talk about who I was. Apparently, they got some actor to play my old General during his last stand."

There was a slight pause.

After making a mental connection, Tanya von Weiss asked, "So, did you really serve under General Custer?"

"You mean General Duster. So you have heard of him?"

"Yes, that is what I meant, and only by reputation."

That name took her back. "Yeah, I served under him. That was a good bit after the Civil War. I had gone north to fight with the Union, stick it to those plantation-owning aristocrats, and end slavery. I always wanted to be a soldier, you see. I got all dressed up in guy clothes, and the boys were all good sports when they saw I could shoot good. Then, when the war was over, I stuck to the army and helped them with keeping the…."

Amber's face got all screwy with uncomfortable reflection. "Well, I didn't know any better back then. We were supposed to be the good guys, fighting evil, and I trusted that. You understand? I didn't realize General Biles was starving them into rebellion. When I did…I should have stopped. I am—."

Inhuman, a monster. I deserved to be this thing.

The Tejan took a moment to let the feeling play itself out. "Living this long is a curse that sometimes causes you to collect moral failings like thorny barbs to your pant legs and socks. Eventually, they cut you all up when you try to move forward. You know?"

Amber needed asylum status because the Silver Legion had conscripted all mages for their war on the Aztecs. It was the fate of mages pretty much everywhere in the West to serve in the military in the event of war. Some countries force you to serve for a few years after hitting the age of majority to get you battle-ready. Other countries did not trust their mages with freedom outside the military, and so they made you serve until you got too feeble. Having magic was a real curse when it came to all these responsibilities and restrictions to keep you from being a threat to the non-magical majority.

She was done fighting wars. Amber wanted out of the Unified States and the Silver Legion's genocidal expansionist ambitions. The magical gunner was done with the war environment that dehumanized her enemies to make the killing easier. If she had to kill someone, Calamity would make sure she internalized them as a person before she pulled the trigger.

She may not have been able to erase the past, but she was sure as hell not going to return to it. Sometimes, you just have to move forward past the pain and do the right thing now. Her death wouldn't make things better, Amber figured, but she was going to make sure she used her life to make the world a better place for everyone.

Her captain acknowledged Amber's point and gestured for her to resume the previous subject. Tanya von Weiss did not look up from the paperwork, and it was not clear if she understood how Amber felt.

"Well, General Duster and the others were all kind of like a family. We also had all sorts of people at Fort Canders, kind of like this Interpol outfit we have here. For example, there was Old Cash. She came from the Aztec Empire and wore this veil all the time. We thought it must be some cultural thing. Anyway, she was an excellent friend to General Duster and his wife. She was a fantastic midwife. Every child who drew their first breath back then at the fort was thanks to Old Cash.

"She also made these dresses with really daring necklines. While I am not the dress-wearing type, she had a way of making me feel envy on account of me being trapped as an ever-child. Anywho, give her some clothes, and she will make you something real pretty.

"I was even at her wedding to Sergeant Sherry. It was a beautiful sight. Anywho, I think you would have liked Old Cash. I will tell you her full story someday."

Amber noticed she had gotten off subject. She had the storytelling spirit, but sometimes that spirit took her on tangents.

"Anyways, back to Duster—"

Then, the telltale signs of a communication spell occurred, and Amber shut her trap to let her captain take the call.

"Who is this? How do you have this core address?"

Amber did not like what happened next, but her captain ordered her out of the office without explaining anything.

Something was up, so the Tejas Sharpshooter sought out Sonnetto, who might be able to help.

---

Interpol HQ in Berun, 12th of March 1950
52 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

I rushed to change all of the paperwork that had previously required me to recuse myself from the Dzayer case. I couldn't scuttle the case if I weren't in charge of it, and leading would affect my reputation….

There is no time to think about the long-term consequences. Matheus' life is in danger.

Once the updated paperwork went into my superior's lockbox, I returned to my office and waited patiently for the next call from the blackmailer.

Through the communication spell, a voice entered my mind: "Nichts! I... uh…you come to the Immerteru or else."

The mobster was obviously different from the guy who had called earlier.

I knew of the club. It was one generally suspected of doing sex trafficking, but that was not my purview unless we could get hard evidence of magical crime. Local law enforcement or the non-magical side of Interpol had to handle that until mages became involved.

I felt a headache growing as I heard this clearly incompetent mobster vaguely threaten me. He was not very detailed aside from giving me the address I needed to go to. In a hostage situation, nothing is more frustrating than a criminal who doesn't know what they want.

If even a hair on his head is out of place, I will….

I took a deep breath. The fate of everyone involved in this kidnapping of someone from my family will have to wait a little longer.

---

Somewhere in Berun, 12th of March 1950
51 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

Otto panicked, so he called Agent Nichts with the core address in the file The Fist gave him. If he could not find her boyfriend, he would just have to capture her instead.

"Why did you send her to Immerteru?" one of the goons asked Otto.

"Uh, well, I might need The Fist's help subduing her."

"Makes sense, sir."

He knew it didn't, but Otto had just made this situation one hundred times worse. He was not going to admit that.

"We better get to the club ahead of her so we can manage the situation for the boss."

"I thought we wanted his help."

"We do, but it would be better if we didn't need it. Make sense?"

The remaining goons did not look as convinced this time.

As they got to the car, they realized something.

"Where are the keys?" They had two cars. One car belonged to Karl, who was at the doc's. The other belonged to the gal who drove Karl to the doc. They had been searching the alleys by foot for Matheus. "Fuck, we have to get there by foot."

Hopefully, they would get there before Agent Nichts showed up. Otto certainly did not want to explain his screw-up.

---

Somewhere in Berun, 12th of March 1950
50 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

A rare thrill of excitement ran up and down Sonnetto's artificial spine. It had been a long time since she felt pleased about something. The cause of the celebratory mood was the new spell Agent U had synthesized through alchemy. Importantly, it would allow Sonnetto to speak with an illusory voice. It was still a prototype, which lacked the duration and mana efficiency for long conversations, but it was a start.

The first person Sonnetto wanted to show this spell to was her housemate, Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss. That was why she went straight to her office.

Just one thing: Agent Calamity was right outside the door.

"Sonnetto, I find you," the Tejan clamored in her broken Germanian. "Captain Weiss is. You talk her?"

"Yes," Sonnetto communicated through the thought-to-speech spell, earning Calamity a surprised look. A few-second delay in the spell still needed to be worked out, but Chief Scientist Agent U knew that.

Without further ado, Sonnetto entered the office and closed the door behind her.

"Sonnetto!" Tanya ran her hands through her hair frantically until it had become a mess of panicked curls.

"What is the problem?"

Tanya blinked at hearing Sonnetto's mental voice.

"Sorry, I don't have time to celebrate, but we have an emergency."

The blonde paced the room. Rage, concern, and dread waged a war. Her reason had taken a backseat. Sonnetto swore silver sparks popped around her housemate as Tanya muttered under her breath.

It took a moment, but the homunculus finally got her question out. "What is wrong?"

Tanya turned straight to her and got serious and determined. "Sonnetto, we have to keep this quiet. The mob has Matheus… and Mary. They must have captured Matheus at my apartment. I don't know if they killed Agent Masquerade. Now they want me to go to their club to meet with them."

Anyone who wants to capture Matheus must have some heavy-duty firepower behind them. Tanya had trained the man from the ground up and had a decade of combat experience in the most odds-defying operations. If you look up Commando in the dictionary and don't see a picture of Matheus, you should get a new dictionary.

Sonnetto wanted to get the same training as Matheus. The crimson-eyed officer had successfully coaxed Tanya into talking about the 203rd's training by getting the blonde to feel utterly safe in one of their evenings together at their flat. Tanya had confessed while in Sonnetto's arms that she had actually wanted Matheus and the others to quit with her over-the-top methods, and it had backfired. Now, there were at least two dozen super commandos like Matheus still in the world. Despite hearing this, Sonnetto still wanted that level of skill so that she could be more useful on the battlefield.

As her housemate discussed all that had happened and what she needed to do, the crimson-eyed woman noticed something.

"Did they say you need to go alone, or what should you bring?" She turned off the thought-to-speech spell to conserve its limited power and returned to using sign language.

Tanya blinked, and then she looked like she was starting to form a plan.

"No, they didn't," she replied, habitually switching back to sign language as well. It was also better if she did not want to get overheard. These guys seem like rank amateurs at negotiating, which means anything can happen. I can probably bring one person without raising any suspicion. Two would be pushing it. If I am going into a trap, I want you by my side."

Sonnetto understood. Tanya had a lot of experience to lean on. "How are you going to fight without your computation orb?"

There was no way Tanya would get into a club with a computation orb or foci on her.

"Can you absorb my dual-core?" Tanya wondered.

"Only up to a mono-core safely. Sorry."

Sonnetto could absorb most things if she coated them with an alchemical coating. Some items, like her pistols and rifle, had been purchased from Persia and could be released from their tattoos and reabsorbed indefinitely. Everything else required a new coat of reagent to be stored in a tattoo again.

The more energy an object she stored on her skin had, the more surface area it consumed. Due to her being an alchemical being, the tattoos could look like anything Sonnetto wanted and be moved slowly at will. Human alchemists could not move their tattoos if they used them. She needed the object to come off her skin safely, so she opted for tank tops and similar clothes underneath her cloak in order to have the surface area available to summon her gear, weapons, and alchemical ink wings.

Magical items had a lot of energy and did not always agree with her alchemy-based magic. Computation orbs and alchemy followed completely different magic systems. It was like trying to plug an AC electrical device into a DC power supply. A single old-fashioned and reliable mono-core would not overload the storage spell or Sonnetto's body, but a dual-core would undoubtedly do so.

With little time to plan, they started getting ready as fast as they could. In the locker room, both women switched into casual clothes, which was much easier for Sonnetto. The alchemical woman rocked tank tops and cargo pants. The only real difference from a distance was the lack of Interpol logos. Tanya wore slacks and blouses. The blonde sometimes wore a turtleneck when she was feeling like an "innovator", as she put it.

Tanya stuffed her duffel bag with her Nichts costume while Sonnetto carefully coated a spare mono-core with reagents so she could absorb it into a tattoo. Once on her skin, the white-haired woman could feel its core humming inside the tattoo.

Sonnetto also quickly absorbed several weapons, supplies, and gear they might need, and she always kept them pre-coated for missions.

When they got to the car, Tanya slid into the passenger seat like always. The blonde woman's short legs made it difficult for her to reach the pedals. Before Sonnetto could turn on the ignition, a knock came at the car door. The taller Interpol mage peered out of the window and then down. A cowboy hat stared up at her.

---

Calamity Amb was not about to let these two youthful knuckleheads rush off into danger without her. She had been in her forties once and remembered all the mistakes she had made back then. While Tanya von Weiss came across as a good deal more mature than most people the blonde's age, Calamity also had seen the last moments of a few commanders before they did something reckless and stupid.

"So, why am I not involved in this little hootenanny of yours?" the cowboy hat inquired in American Albish.

"Calamity, this does not involve you."

"Ma'am, I would like you to make it involve me."

"You will stand out." Captain Weiss answered from the other side of Sonnetto, struggling to make eye contact with the centenarian sharpshooter. The youngest of the team, Fang, would have been told to stand down, but Calamity Amb's voice carried the prudence of the ages, which changed the dynamic considerably. Experience trumped most things for soldiers like Calamity and Tanya von Weiss.

"I can look the part. See." Calamity Amb had put a handkerchief around her face like a bandit from the American frontier.

"They will see your eyes are unnatural and know you are an innate mage."

Calamity pulled out and donned some sunglasses from her vest pocket. She was a pro who covered all her bases before she did anything and had some acting experience from rodeos and Wild West shows.

Then she just popped into the backseat so that Sonnetto could finally start the car. There was no time to wait. The debate would have to continue on the drive there.

"Your ears?" Tanya followed up.

Her hair lifted ever so slightly at the sides of her head to entirely obscure her somewhat pointy ears. It helped to have complete control over one's hair.

"Your height?"

"It only makes me less likely to be a threat in their eyes. More importantly, I think I am taller than you."

"What? Really?" Captain Weiss then cleared her throat. "Well, you can't speak Germanian."

"I will just be all quiet like, and I also know some important phrases if needed."

"Give me a good reason why we shouldn't just drop you off at the first light?"

Calamity chuckled. "I will do you youngin's two better give you three good reasons."

The little gunner cleared her throat like she was about to give her case before a judge.

"Reason one: You are about to go into a whole hornet's nest of trouble by the looks of it. If you accidentally shake this nest, you will want the firepower I bring to the table. Remember that I am your team's arms specialist. I know the best use for their less lethal ammunition, so I can use them without accidentally killing someone. Plus, we both know that you, Captain, are not going to use the other one Agent S brought, given your whole proclivity of running off and going mano a mano with the biggest, baddest, nastiest, no-good son-of-a-gun you can find."

"Okay. Reason two?" Captain Weiss did not challenge the evaluation of her character. It was her role in the team to fight powerful mages. It was in her job description…which she had written herself, as Calamity had found out.

"Two: I listened to what you said, and while you two were getting ready, I filled out the paperwork for an emergency mission and for all that gear you took out so none of us get in trouble. I just so happened to put my name on this here operation. Now you have to take me."

"I didn't authorize…no, fine. Yes." Given the urgency, the captain clearly rushed through her preparations. Captain Weiss had no choice but to process the rest of Calamity's paperwork later.

"Don't forget the third reason—"

"No, you have me convinced."

"Ah, well, it is all settled then. Y'all were about to do something real stupid, I tell you, so I sure am glad you let me unstupid it for y'all."

"Don't mention it, Officer Canary," Captain Tanya von Weiss replied somewhat tersely.

The Tejan chuckled at what she saw as her superior's good humor. "Oh, just call me Calamity, Calamity Amb, or Agent C. The only people who call me Canary are my sister Mary and her great-grandkids. You know my sister actually wants to meet you someday."

"Calamity, I don't want to chit-chat right now. The situation is…."

The amber-eyed sharpshooter got extra quiet as she got the low down on the gravity of her first operation with her Captain. Her superior's level of recklessness made a lot more sense now.

---

Outside the Immerteru, 12th of March 1950
7 Minutes before Sonnetto, Calamity, and Tanya enter the club

When we got parked a little ways away from the club, some of the mob boss's henchmen came up to check on us.

"So why are you three missies here?" one of them inquired. His pompadour would have made it impossible for me to take him seriously if not for Matheus's life being at stake and all the other things I knew I knew about this crime syndicate.

"We are here for Matheus…and Mary."

"Oh, so you are with Bloody Mary? We have been expecting you." The gangster with the pompadour chuckled darkly.

I guess Mary's wings are tinged crimson, which kind of makes them look bloody. I have never heard this nickname for her before, though.

As I got out of the car, they gave us a pat down for computation orbs. I really missed the war right then because of what I wanted to do to these sleazy assholes.

"Hey, don't forget the goods. Bring the duffel bag."

I had planned to leave my Nichts' outfit in the car and run back to it if needed. I didn't come in my Nichts outfit because that would have been too conspicuous for anyone who saw me. My alter ego had international fame, and many Germanians saw her as a national hero. Plus, Matheus' life was in danger. I could take the hit of someone knowing how Nichts looked under her helmet for his sake.

Anyway, if they wanted me to take my duffel bag, that was quite convenient for me.

The gangsters ran mana through my duffel bag to check for computation orbs, but nothing activated, of course. The bag only contained my scientifically engineered protective gear. Despite how plain it was, the look had become iconic for my alter ego. There was no point really in adding Interpol logos. We had mana signatures and such to identify each other for the most part.

The man opened the bag. "What is this?"

"Nothing." That was one of my only jokes.

He pointed to the clothes. "Where is the money?"

"Money?" They didn't say anything about money? These gangsters are terribly incompetent.

"Ugh, whatever." He gave me back my bag, and I took it.

None of them suspected Sonnetto of alchemy. While greater awareness of alchemy was spreading to Europa, it wasn't well understood outside of professional magic craft. Saying you were a mage was like saying you were an accountant. People's primary frame of reference for accountants is their tax accountant, not an auditor or managerial accountant for a corporation, for example. In this case, Sonnetto benefitted from their ignorance of other kinds of mages.

Calamity barely got any notice aside from some snide remarks about looking like a kid in a costume. They treated her like she was the mascot for our group, which sure brought back memories for me.

"So you three work with Mary, huh?" one of them asked as they escorted us to the club.

"Technically…yes…unfortunately." It was hard to describe how weird it was working with Mary Sue as a colleague.

"I would feel the same way in your shoes."

Why is this gangster sympathizing with me?

Before I could think further on the matter, he shoved me to the ground and gave me a kick in the back, bruising my ribs.

Why does sympathy hurt so much?!

I kept my cool as Sonnetto and Calamity helped me back up.

"That is why you get for what you have done. The boss has half a mind to just off Mary right now, you know that."

"Understood," I answered through gritted teeth.

We entered the club, flanked by our armed escort. It was still early in the day, so the establishment was not opened yet. I could see The Fist's henchmen running about in preparation for a fight. If there were any innocent bystanders here, they were the prostitutes who did not have a home or had to stay there under duress. The palpable loss of their ability to determine their future due to coercive forces and desperation made my wrists flare up with divine mana.

It was also a harry situation for the three of us. I often struggled with anxiety and paranoia, where I assumed the worst fate would befall me and those I cared about. Sonnetto thankfully picked up on my discomfort and took my hand. That made banishing the nightmare scenarios from my mind possible.

They threw us into a guest room and locked the door from the outside, which made me anxious. The walls became more oppressive suddenly.

"Wait here until The Fist is ready to see you," a mobster shouted from the other side of the door before leaving.

"Sonnetto." I signed when the three of us were finally alone.

For her name, instead of spelling it all out, I just summarized all the letters in two motions. It was faster. We based many signed words unique to our profession on the first couple of letters and then a clarifying gesture. It was necessary with the language since 15% of our conversational vocabulary did not have official hand signs. Other practitioners did the same for their unique language environments.

I only had to sign her name to indicate that it was time to move on to the next phase of our plan.

"I have a suspicion something is not quite right."

"Me too."

"We should contact Captain Müller at least. If this is a trap, then she can help."

She started taking out the mono-core from storage as I rapidly got changed into Nichts.

First, I put on the goggles, and I could already feel my perspective shift. Then, I buckled my helmet into position. The chaos of my thoughts returned to a familiar structured order beyond the irrational excesses of this adult body's endocrine system. Finally, I buttoned up my mantle, and Nichts was complete.

I took the mono-core from my subordinate Sonnetto's hand and gave her the expected customary thanks. The call would have to be brief since I had a meeting with the club's owner shortly. Given the stakes of this venture, negotiations might get heated.

I activated the communication spell, which the people in this room could sense. Calamity, thankfully, only tensed up a bit. It had taken a while for her to get used to being around my mana signature.

Regardless, my family needed me now, so I was too distracted to solve that mystery.

"Captain Müller, it is me, Agent Nichts," I said into the spell.

"Oh, thank goodness. Where are you?"

"Immerteru, ma'am, with Agent Sonnetto and Agent Calamity supporting me. Mr. Weiss and Investigator Sue are here, too. I have come to rescue them. The emergency mission paperwork should have been filed."

"I am glad you are fully apprised of the situation. Sue is keeping me posted on her situation as much as she can. Given the circumstances, it isn't easy for her."

It made sense that Sue had kept in touch with her superior. She was an innate caster. The gangsters could not take her ability to use the communication spell from her like they could me. She must have woken up recently from her captivity during my call with The Fist and gotten ahold of Captain Müller.

"Captain, what is my level of authorization?" I inquired. If my colleague coordinated this operation, it would fall to her to make that call. As a proper employee of a law-enforcing organization, I fell into line and did as she would order.

"You have Class C clearance for non-mages. Do you have the proper equipment?"

That meant using beanbag shotguns and non-lethal magic unless we could isolate the mages in such a way that we did not pose a risk to non-mages. It was the same grade as my last operation in Ildoa and the most common clearance given for operations. Agent U had come up with the beanbag shotgun after I fed her some ideas from my world. They were nowhere near as effective as Agent Fang's martial arts, but they would have to suffice. While Calamity's early comment on the shotgun came to mind, I still signed the question to my subordinate to double-check we had them and got a quick confirmation.

"Yes," I told Agent Müller.

If it came to it, then Sonnetto would have all the ammo and firepower we needed…hopefully.

"We are going to talk to their boss first," I clarified. "They have hostages."

Before the acting CO could reply, I cut the spell. Someone had come to the door.

"The Fist will see you now," a mobster announced as she opened the door. She wasn't one of the people who put us in the waiting room. "Wait, Nichts, you are the one seeing the boss?!"

"He invited me here, so yes. Please escort me and my subordinates to the meeting. We have urgent business to discuss."

I disliked delays. It was clear that the mobsters in this Ring Club were not all on the same page about what was going on.

"Urk, yes, follow me. No funny business, copper."

"I don't do funny, rest assured."

As we walked down the hallway, I scanned my environment for threats, opportunities, and escape routes. Calamity did the same, which reassured me significantly. I had to signal to remind Sonnetto to scan. She was right that I should train her more.

The rectangular building had a ground and basement floor. Our waiting room was on the more illicit side of the basement level. The mobsters brought us to the ground floor towards a room behind the bar where presumably The Fist's office or meeting room was located. The ground floor had a symposium architecture similar to a church. Two long hallways with tables flanked a dance floor. At one end of this rectangle was the main entrance with large tinted windows facing the street, and at the other end was the aforementioned bar and office. I also picked up on two additional ones along the side hallways. The little I had seen of the basement level indicated a path going under the street that led to other buildings. These underground tunnels made traveling the city by foot easier but gave another avenue of escape.

On the ground floor, I counted approximately twenty individuals. Five of them were women, presumably part of the "night staff", which was the way I would refer to them given the ambiguities present. They were just eating some food. Two appeared to be pimps of some sort. Eleven were well-dressed and moderately armed mobsters of some variety, two of which were mages based on the rings on their fingers — mono-cores each by size. The mages, like usual, registered in my mental scan as having the highest threat values. Their mono-cores were relatively cheap and civilian-grade. Sonnetto could easily take them out with her favored dual pistols if they could be isolated from the non-mages and victims of this business.

Among those twenty, I had spotted two familiar faces — Mr. Weiss and Officer Drake. While I was not expecting to see my suspended subordinate, whom I almost overlooked, his presence made sense. Weiss and Drake have spent time together frequently over the last month in our apartment.

For some reason, they had mops and cleaning supplies. Did The Fist force them to clean the floors? No one paid them any mind, so that must have been the case.

"Wait here," the mobster told me before entering the meeting room ahead of us.

While we had a moment to ourselves and a safe distance from the other mobsters on the ground floor, the two men approached us. It was an opportunity to catch up with Mr. Weiss.

""We come to save you.""

""Weren't you captured?""

Mr. Weiss and I had both spoken simultaneously, and I could not really process what my former vice commander had said. I gestured to silence him.

"I am grateful that you are both okay."

"You aren't upset that we are here?" Drake wondered. "I am not in trouble."

He must have thought his failure to defend himself against these mobsters and avoid being captured reflected poorly upon his capabilities as an officer of the law.

"You should not feel guilty, Agent. The circumstances were understandable."

Drake looked immensely relieved. As his superior, I had the duty to alleviate unnecessary work-related worries such as this.

"And about Matheus being here, you don't mind?" my suspended subordinate followed up.

I pulled the man in close so he and I could say something to him no one could overhear. "Of course, I mind. Are you crazy? If things go poorly, I will make sure the man responsible for bringing Mr. Weiss here pays for every hair that is out of place on his head."

"Yes, ma'am!"

After releasing Drake, the man shook in terror. I thought I taught him more discipline than that. He needed to keep focused.

In the background, we heard some shouting. "They going to kill that angel chick" and "My money is that when they show up, the boss is going to kill Mary just to prove a point."

That reminded me that I had to rescue Officer Sue, which was something I had never thought I would have to do, but one must do their job even when they don't enjoy it.

My mono-core was in my pocket, and Sonnetto and Calamity were there to back me up. It was fortunate that the mobsters did not even second-guess the three of us showing up.

"Isn't it odd that they are just walking around like this?" Sonnetto wondered while gesturing at my suspended XO and former XO. "You think they would be tied up."

It was a good point, but before I could think about it, the door opened again.

"He wants to know why you are here."

"Tell him we want to see Sue—"

Then, The Fist himself shoved himself out of the room, causing me to jump back to get out of his reach. The man had this obnoxiously red suit. He loomed way above my meager height. It was a situation with which I had decades of familiarity at this point, but it did highlight how I needed to handle the situation with care. Adding to the stakes, I could sense him activating two cores in his ring. He outgunned me on top of having the physical advantage.

"Well, here I am," The Fist shouted at us for some reason. "You have a lot of nerve coming here and saying that name."

"What name? Sue?"

The other mobsters started giving us space. What is wrong?

"I am going to rip you apart if you say that name one more time!"

The man's face went beat red. I know Mary Sue could be infuriating at times, but this man clearly has a grudge against the angel-like woman—no wonder the mobsters said all those things about killing her earlier. I knew just enough about Mary Sue that I was not too afraid of her being killed without a lot of effort.

It was a shame we could not reach a mutually beneficial agreement. I was expecting to have a more rational conversation, but you really cannot set the bar low enough for some people. This situation was still acceptable in a way. He did hurt Mr. Weiss, and that came with consequences.

As I dodged out of the way of The Fist's punch, I signaled Agent Sonnetto to start passing out weapons. There was no more point in negotiating peacefully if he was already attacking us.

As I made my way away from him, I activated a voice amplification spell.

"This is the police. On the ground now, or we will respond with force."

Understandably, this resulted in a cacophony of screaming and people rushing for exits or pulling out whatever firearm or weapon. Only the night staff had the sense to get on the ground or duck to cover. I did not want any of them to get hit by bullets. My announcement was more for them than anything else. It was just proper not to get unrelated parties involved in these private matters, especially during more forceful negotiations. While I did not know how The Fist could run a club of this size with such hair-trigger prejudice for infuriating individuals like Mary Sue, that doesn't mean I had to stoop to his level. Sometimes, you have to be the bigger person.

While I handled The Fist, Agent Sonnetto took the lead in dealing with the minor threats. Agent Calamity and Agent Sonnetto both wielded beanbag shotguns, focusing down the non-mage threats who did not get on the ground or flee. My resourceful former vice commander had apparently acquired one of the mobster's rings at some point and quickly erected a barrier for cover as some gangsters reached for pistols and Berun Typewriters. I would stick to my mono-core and a mana blade. My suspended current vice commander, Officer Drake, wielded…a mop. We would give him a proper weapon, but he was under suspension and not authorized to use Interpol equipment during it.

---

Laurence "Laurence" Drake lifted his mop menacingly. "Come any closer, and I will wipe the floor with you."

The two mobsters paled.

That work?

Two beanbags then flew past either side of Laurence's head.

"Ouch! Stop shooting us." The two mobsters dropped their bats and put their hands in the air.

"At ground, now," Calamity Amb shouted in a mixture of broken Germanian and Albish, getting the two criminals on their knees.

"What should I do?" Laurence inquired, but Calamity did not answer.

Sonnetto ducked into the room behind the bar to communicate with him. The thespian followed her and attempted to repeat his question, hoping she would at least point somewhere. "What should—"

"Laurence, after we clear the dance floor and give you the signal, you can be the first responder and use this room to treat injuries. Ahhhh! Give me a moment to speak. Can't gun and talk. Help that hostage over there with the swollen hand. Bye!"

The Sonnetto's magically generated voice came out of nowhere and caught the man off guard. He did not have long to think, though, as the alchemical woman returned to Agent Calamity's side.

"More ammo," the Tejan called.

Sonnetto literally extended her arm out and used her magic to fill the weapon with more beanbags from her tattoos. The crimson-eyed woman had perfected the art of the rapid reload. In some guns, she could even replace specially manufactured cartridges from her homeland in milliseconds.

"Agent Sonnetto, secure Mary," Agent Nichts called out. "I think she is in the room behind the bar."

Sounds of muffled screaming finally caught Laurence's attention. There was another person in this room with him, but she was not Mary — well, not their Mary.

---

My announcement only ticked off the business owner more as I rushed down one of the side hallways toward the nearest exit. Most of the night staff had opted to hide under the dining tables there or had already fled into the summer heat outside.

"I should have known!" he screamed as he charged at me, ignoring my teammates to go in for the kill on me. "Mary is working with you, coppers. She must have tipped you off to our location."

"Yes, she is my co-worker, but—"

I had to change trajectories and stop the banter early as he literally tossed a table ahead of my intended path, blocking the side exit I planned to take. The man had a Beruner Typewriter, a machine gun popular among mobsters. I had to balance power between my flight and shield formulae. If he caught up to me, I would be dead. The Fist had a reputation for crushing or ripping apart his victims, depending on whom you asked. I was an avid advocate for not getting crushed or ripped apart myself, so I voted for pushing up to the limits of my military-grade mono-core computation orb to stay ahead of him.

Unfortunately, he had corralled me into the front corner. I went up to the ceiling and torpedoed myself towards the window near the front entrance. As I flew between his arms, I activated acceleration and mage blade formulas, temporarily dropping my shield, and attempted to stab at him. He successfully dodged my attack, and the blade only cut through and disabled his firearm.

I turned off those two formulae and reactivated my shield as I turned ninety degrees and defenestrated myself into the street, as one in magical law enforcement does when a meeting falls through. I quickly picked up altitude so I would have as much time to plan the next steps of my plans.

As I floated above the street, I sent a communication spell to Sonnetto. "I will draw The Fist outside. You focus on securing the building. I will get you an ETA on reinforcements."

Then I switched channels to Captain Müller. "The Fist has a dual-core. I am outgunned. I will try to draw him into a dog fight in the air if possible."

While the mono-core rings were probably unable to fit a flight spell, a spell coder would be remiss to exclude it from a dual-core. I would know. I have a spell coding license, for which I can thank my apprenticeship with the Weiss family.

"Understood, Agent Nichts. Reinforcements ETA 2 minutes. Thank you for arriving on the scene so quickly. Mary Sue needed help."

After confirming receipt of the information, I switched back to my channel with Sonnetto and gave her the update. We would both be switching to Müller's channel if the acting CO sent the signal to do so. One needs patience in these situations. Müller required focus to coordinate with dispatch and each of us, so we could not all talk to her at once.

---

Calamity Amb shuddered as another spell pulse from the Devil of the Rhine passed through her. One did not forget her mana signature. The little sharpshooter nearly pissed her pants when her Agent Nichts cast a spell in front of her the first time and basically declared herself the Devil of the Rhine. Old war jitters returned as Calamity attempted to maintain discipline. For all her bragging earlier, she did not know her superior was the most feared mage in the world.

A man with an unbuttoned shirt sat crouched next to her behind the bar. He said something in Germania that she did not understand literally, but his tone conveyed the meaning. Calamity needed to calm down. Let instinct and training guide her.

Then, the man activated a spell from his ring, and another very familiar mana signature from the war pulsed through the room. Calamity had to fall back on an old calming ritual of listing food from the menu of her favorite dinner. She hadn't needed it in years, but the ritual got her back into the fight.

Sonnetto, who was on the other side of the man, took one hand off her shotgun to conjure her pistol — loaded, naturally. Calamity pulled out her mirror and lifted it with her magical hair.

"One - eleven o'clock; Two - two o'clock." The Tejan had not lied about learning essential phrases for the job. Sonnetto nodded and tossed her shotgun far to the left. While the mobsters reacted to the distraction, she popped up, conjured her second pistol, and eliminated the three mages. The alchemical officer might not have fancy bullets or be a sharpshooter, but Calamity had to hand it to her teammate. Sonnetto knew how to use those pistols.

It wasn't easy to fire pistols with accuracy. Crossing your arms can give some added stability, but the key was making it worth it over a rifle. Having dual wielding allowed Sonnetto to target multiple threats without spraying bullets or resorting to explosion formulae. There were innocent people and non-mages in the room. They had to avoid getting those groups mixed up in the level of force necessary to take down mages.

As Sonnetto, who had a barrier spell up, kept a lookout for new threats, Calamity monitored the surrendered gangsters. The Tejan relied on Laurence Drake and Matheus Weiss to direct the people who were not gangsters to the safe room.

Things were feeling pretty good when another terrifying mana signature rocked Calamity.

---

As I flew above, The Fist looked up at me from inside the building. He was not dumb enough to come out in the open where he would not have non-mage body shields.

It seemed that I needed to take a page out of my subordinate Laurence's book and play the matador.

"Where is Sue? Sue-y Sue-y Sue-y." I amplified my voice to make sure he heard me. If he hated Mary Sue that much, then I would use her to my advantage for once.

Then I spotted the angel surrounded on the other side of the club.

"There she is."

That was actually a slip-up. I had not meant to say that aloud, given The Fist's hatred for the woman and her precarious situation. To salvage the situation, I quickly pointed at him inside the building. "You are looking tiny down there. Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Sue me then."

Insults and provocations had a place on the battlefield. When I fought that limey from the multinational unit during the two-person suicide mission General Zettour sent my former adjutant and me, we had exchanged barbs in Albish. It was just workplace culture for soldiers.

My provocation worked. The Fist made one look at all his men around him and then blasted into the air after me.

"You dare humiliate me before my men! I will tear you apart!"

I sighed internally. The man was humiliating himself well enough on his own. I had nothing to do with it. Some people were just too clueless.

He rushed up at me, and we entered a double-helix-spiral flight pattern. I had to dedicate all my attention to him just to avoid him. An early termination would leave my family with an inferior pension package.

The Fist zoomed by me. He had superior power and speed, but I had plenty of experience to handle such foes. I just had to conserve my mana. I would accelerate at full tilt only for short intervals and at a perpendicular vector from his flight path. Basically, I was sidestepping his charges. I am glad he did not have a gun anymore, or this would have been difficult.

Even though I could summon a mana blade, I did not actually want to trade attacks with him due to all my disadvantages here. It was better to wait this out until reinforcements came to subdue him.

The mob boss came at me yet again; however, before I could dodge, I had to quickly reverse my vector as a vaguely familiar ray of golden light passed by my intended flight path. I was sure that beam attack would have killed me. Unfortunately, that meant I could not evade my current foe.

"Gotcha!" He declared as he grabbed me by both arms and pulled them outwards like some medieval punishment for all to see. "I will kill you before all my men so they know what happens when someone says that name."

Mary Sue isn't that bad, I mentally complained as I pushed my mana out of the safe limit to prevent my termination from this life. I did owe Officer Sue for keeping me sane while in that holding cell. No one other than Mr Weiss knows how badly captivity and I don't mix.

Neither does being restrained. If there was a silver lining to this situation, I had my Nichts costume on, keeping my panic in check. Overly emotional Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss would have probably had a fit in this situation. That was why Agent Nichts was necessary for this job. Agent Sonnetto or Mr. Weiss could soothe the Tanya side of me when we got home.

My excess mana running through my arms started to flicker with the telltale signs of my unique brand of mana contamination. Even smoke and silver flames issued from the sleeves of my flight jacket. I had tried to avoid this for over a decade. Anything could happen to me, and knowing Being X's desire not to have to do the heavy lifting of spreading his made-up faith himself, I was probably going to end up some walking symbol like Sue. That was the last thing I wanted for myself. I wanted the freedom to decide who I was going to be.

I hope Müller has someone who can get me out of this bind fast.

Then, I felt the punishment of a certain someone's leaking mana bash into me.

"I heard your call, Agent Nichts, and I am coming to help!" Mary Sue declared, flying up into the sky with her golden blade of misbegotten justice that had nearly killed me.

Correction: Mary Sue might actually be that bad, Mr. The Fist.

---

A few moments ago, outside the club

Interpol Officer Mary Sue gritted her teeth. There had to be twenty ruffians and ne'er-do-wells out here. She had finally summoned a barrier spell as they circled her again. As an innate caster, she depended way more on keeping her concentration up. There was no computation orb to run the spells if she lost consciousness.

"Don't be afraid of her appearance. I heard from the boss that she is a weakling."

Mary Sue did not know where this idea that she was weak came from. She knew her power level was abnormally high. Her captain had made it very clear to her that it was for everyone's sake that she stayed on the sidelines during most operations. That was why she had been practicing ways to use her power safely.

"Captain, I need to know my clearance."

Her opponents with mono-cores bashed against her barrier, trying to get it to crack. Some of them pulled out guns and unloaded at her. These people would kill her if she did not keep the focus on her barrier spell, which held firm.

Her wings had magically healed from their beating earlier.

"I have escalated the situation to B," Müller communicated through the spell link. "Don't make me regret this, Officer Sue."

"You can trust me, ma'am."

There were four levels of clearance of usage of force against non-mages for Mages of Interpol:

• Clearance D - This is the default. One was to avoid any engagement with non-mages.
• Clearance C - Authorized up to non-lethal force.
• Clearance B - Authorized up to reasonable force.
• Clearance A - Authorized lethal force at one's discretion.

Activating acceleration and enhancement spells, several sigils across Mary's body burst into bright golden light. Mary Sue perceived time slow to almost a halt for a moment before the initial spike of acceleration wore off.

She then saw Agent Nichts burst out of the building on the other side.

"Where is Sue? Sue-y Sue-y Sue-y."

Agent Nichts knows my name and gave me a nickname! I can't wait to tell Tanya and Matheus.

No, focus, Sue. You have ruffians to bring to justice.

The officer drew on the power of justice all around her. Slowly, her vision turned to darkness, and the power blinded her, as it always did. She could feel a sword in her right hand and the weight of scales in her left. Then came the voices.

Devil! Bullies! Monsters! Incompetent Businessman! Murderers! Thieves! Liars! Cheaters! Crooks! Thugs! Evil! Father Kidnapper!

The rage of the nearby aggrieved hit Mary Sue all at once. The mobsters had committed sex trafficking, among many other horrible crimes, and the aggrieved from the surrounding area cried out for justice. Mary Sue would be the instrument of that justice. Some of those grievances were somewhat out of place but felt rather intense.

While she might not see her targets, her magic felt their guilt. With a swing of her blade, a wave of light forced all those who had tried to kill her to duck out of the way or get hit by a beam. The attack inflicted those hit with the fate she thought they deserved up to the anguish she absorbed.

Since her wings had finally healed enough to fly again, Officer Sue then catapulted herself into the air after Agent Nichts. She swung her blade once more at whom the aggrieved directed the most of their anguish. She did not know who that was, but her power prevented her from acting on her own prejudice. Sue could not know who had or had not gotten hurt by her attacks. She could only decide what level of punishment was appropriate for each grievance.

"I heard your call, Agent Nichts, and I am coming to help!"

---

Outside the club, in the air
A moment later

"Watch it with those beams, Officer!" I shouted at the berserker angel.

"Don't worry, Nichts. It only hurts the guilty."

Another beam attack went at us, and I had to lift my legs to my chest just to avoid it. The man holding me flinched. It must have grazed him.

"Guilty by whose standards?" I had to ask. It was a reasonable question for my rather dire predicament.

"Mine!"

The guy and I dodged again. It must have looked like we were dancing.

"That is not very reassuring!" I knew how crazy her standards for justice were during the war. There was a reason why we did not use this overpowered Interpol officer in practical cases. Just seeing all the people who had burst into flames and collapsed onto the ground, I knew I wanted none of the justice she had in mind.

Sorry, but I am not in the market for justice. Please do not call again.

"Please stop swinging that thing!" I demanded. It was a fair demand.

"Don't worry, only those I believe deserve justice get hurt."

"Even if that was the case, Mary Sue, you couldn't hit an aerial mage with those slow attacks unless they stayed perfectly still."

The Fist stopped moving for some reason. "...Mary Sue… I think might have been—"

I stopped listening there. Mary Sue's next attack did not heed any warning. The Fist opted to use me as a shield. I desperately pulled with all my might to escape from the beam of golden light towards me. Smoke started billowing from my sleeves again due to how far past my limit I had gone.

I don't want to die!

Fear gripped me like it never did before. The Fist had restrained me with no way for me to avoid my fate.

I shut my eyes as I let the inevitable happen.

Then, there was nothing. No pain. Suddenly, The Fist let go of my arms, and I heard a clunk below me.

I peeked one eye open and got a face full of an excited and magically blindfolded Officer Sue.

"See, I told you it wouldn't hurt you. It passes through—"

"Ouch, not so loud, Officer. I am right in front of you."

"Oh, sorry."

"And pull back in your mana. It is hard to breathe." Her aura put pressure on me like I was deep underwater.

"I'm so sorry, Agent Nichts! I didn't mean to."

Her mana quickly went back inside her, and I could breathe a sigh of relief. I then looked around more. On the ground was a very dead The Fist.

I guess his hatred for Officer Sue ended up being justified in the end.

"Agent Nichts, you are on fire!" someone shouted.

My sleeves still had smoke coming at them!

I flew down to the ground, where I saw Captain Müller. Tossing my mantle off, I examined the damage just as the last bit of silver flames snuffed out.

"Nichts, your arms," the other captain commented with concern.

"I know."

"You still have your mantle sleeves on them somehow," she claimed, gesturing to my discarded garment.

"What? No, they don't."

I lifted my arm so Captain Müller could look more closely. My arms had changed color and now had faintly glowing silver sigils on the tops of my hands and lines on them. I had mutated.

"Officer Drake, Agent Sonnetto, I need both of you to set a perimeter. Keep this area clear."

They confirmed orders and set off. The other captain and I found a private place. We quickly checked for additional mutations and flames.

"Nothing strange about your face, hair, or head," Elya stated.

"Captain," called Mary Sue. "Oh, there you are."

Then, she spotted us. Officer Sue had already deactivated her blindfolded form.

"Officer Sue, we are—"

"Agent Nichts, you are Captain Weiss! This explains why you are always at the South Germania branch office instead of here. Wow, that must be quite the commute."

I wanted to roll my eyes. While this might cause other problems, Mary Sue adored Agent Nichts and thankfully did not believe that "another angel" could ever be the Devil of the Rhine. The problem was that it gave the Legadonian yet another line to conclude that I was that Devil. Mana Signatures don't perfectly identify mages given repeats, but I don't need coincidences piling up.

"Do you need anything, Officer Sue?" Elya pressed.

"Um, an autograph, but that can wait. The Berun Police Chief wants to talk to you, Captain Müller."

"Okay, Tanya, you don't look like any more mutations are happening," Elya stated, addressing me. "You should stay here until we get you an ambulance."

I groaned. My mutations meant I would be spending a day or two in the hospital being checked all over for how my mutations affected my health or might affect the health of others. Then, Agent U wanted her turn, which was for the best. If anyone could figure out why my mutation had given Elya the illusion of sleeves, she could.

Turning to her subordinate, Elya gave her next order. "Go let Matheus and the others know that Agent Nichts is fine."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"
The two left me to my own devices as Calamity took over, watching over me.

She really is taller than me, huh? I don't know how to feel about being shorter than someone who was trapped at 12 years old.

As I waited for the emergency personnel to take me away, I could not help but feel like I had forgotten something important. I knew it had something to do with paperwork. Was it the forms I would have to fill out for this mission?

---

Near the club Immertreu in Berun, 12th of March 1950

They had arrived too late to intercept Agent Nichts. Looking at all the cop cars, things definitely did not go as planned.

"Um, what should we do?" one of the goons asked.

"Find new employment," Otto answered. Seeing The Fist being put into a bodybag after what looked like a terrifying fall, the former livestock thief reconsidered some of his life choices. "In another country, no continent."

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Interpol Forward Operating Base in the Monts du Mouydir, Dzayer - 31st of March, 1950

"Thanks." Sonnetto signed as I placed her coffee-flavored energy drink before her. Everything was precisely the way she liked it, and she always gave it before my subordinate even thought to ask. Through diligent internalization of her rhythms, I had mastered her observable needs, treating her like I had once delighted in being treated.

"Masquerade will be back soon," Elya announced. My vice commander, Agent Masquerade, had infiltrated the Covert Corp's paramilitary base by disguising himself as one of the suppliers of military-grade computation orbs. Those fake orb devices would have been booby-trapped to instead restrain the user and knock them out safely when an offensive spell was used. I had worked on the spell with Agent U, bringing my spell-coding skills to bear once again. Masquerade may lack firepower, but he always found his way in and out of things with ease. I trusted that if I did get taken down, he would at least get the rest of our team to safety.

I popped my back and stretched. A battle lay on the horizon. Elya's interrogation of The Fist's goons had linked Matheus' kidnapping back to Edmond Perez. The international community's opinions did not matter as much anymore. I couldn't recuse myself after my paperwork got processed during my extended hospital stay. Perez had made this personal in a way I usually strived to be above. As loath as I was to say this, I could finally sympathize with Mary Sue.

Elya had taken the lead on the capture of Edmond Perez due to my conflict of interest; however, like always, she never denied me the battle I wanted. Only mages who fought on the frontlines of the Great War could ever understand the siren call of battle that raged through me.

Lifting up my new arms, I inspected the sigils that lined my arms. We did not know how to use the magic in them yet. New magical circuits pulsed with my mana — greater than before but not enough to put me into the top ten percent of mages by magic ability. Skill and the Type-95 kept me ahead of the competition, but that would not last forever. Agent U had pushed me to try more advanced dual-cores and integrate other schools of magic into my arsenal, but I did not want to change too much. I would update my tactics and leverage the talents of my subordinates to throw off the other veteran mages trapped in the Great War with me.

"What do my arms look like to you?" I questioned Agent Fang. He had not participated in the rescue of my adoptive father and had only recently gotten to see my mutated arms.

"They are aglow with the silver flames of your Mandate, ma'am, and there are transparent mage blades."

His answer still surprised me, but I figured he was talking about something symbolic of his culture when he mentioned this Mandate. As for the mage blades, my training must have left an impression on him. Nothing else explained associating me with those spells that promised death.

"And you, Sonnetto?" I inquired of my housemate both in sign language and aloud.

"They look like you are wearing your favorite blouse, which looks odd given you are definitely not wearing it. No markings or flames or anything."

"Elya?"

"Just your Nichts mantle sleeves."

"Officer Sue?"

"Your right hand is aglow with a shining light that tells me it grants freedom to anyone willing to take it," the angel-like officer answered abstractly, which was unhelpful to me. She was only here because Elya had to bring her. "Um…well, your sinister
hand, how should I say this?"

"Don't worry," I replied. "This is weird for all of us."

"Well," Officer Sue started. "It is drenched in blood."

In other words, she saw both her version of the Devil of the Rhine and the heroic protector who saved the Berun from the Kaiser's Men. Luckily, she did not know how to interpret the blood.

Agent U called the phenomenon the Silver Mirror. My arms reflected what others saw me as based on their most firm impression of me. We had gotten my arms to be consistent for everyone once by accident, but I did not know how to use my new magical circuits yet.

I could see my arms as they, presumably, actually were. They appeared to be a mixture of my two lives. The shape was the same, but the skin tone had shifted a bit, and the little hairs had gotten a black color. It was like a color swap you might see for a fighting game. If I ever entirely changed, explaining why I suddenly looked more Japanese (or Akinese, in their eyes) would be a headache. My assumption was I was not mutating in the traditional sense but rather that aspects of my soul essence or whatever were being used as a template for my form. Calamity Amb's skin shifted towards a more grayish color when she mutated, so perhaps I could pass it off as just magic being magic.

When I held my tin cup up, my arms did not show in my reflection, which was more than a little concerning. If someone took a picture of me now, my arms would be missing all the way up to the collarbone. My actual clothes would be visible, though. The only way to capture my appearance was to recreate it in artwork.

Generally, only I could see my arms when I was awake, but when I slept, people could now occasionally catch glimpses of them. Sonnetto could see them the most often, for some reason, while the doctors could never. My arms had flashed with silver flames several times when the new magical circuits had formed, but that had stopped happening for the most part. When I had experimented with my new magical circuits through trial and error, I had occasionally triggered the silver flames to envelop my arms and change people's perceptions of another version of myself.

It was weird, to say the least. It was like everyone lived in entirely different realities when perceiving me despite all of us being in the supposedly the same world.

Masquerade arrived back at our forward operating base shortly after this discussion. Edmond Perez, the coward, had left his subordinates behind. We would still strike at the enemy base with extreme prejudice. A rare issuance of Clearance A had been given. We would capture those who surrendered, but the available intelligence pointed towards them wanting to fight to the death rather than be captured. The Francois government would not support us in this, and we did not have an army at our back (not that the Francois would let us bring an army into their borders). The League of Nations might consider creating a peace-keeping army pooled from all nations in the near future, but all we had now was Elya and my teams for this operation. That was plenty, in my opinion.

---

Interpol Forward Operating Base in the Monts du Mouydir, Dzayer - 31st of March, 1950

Agent Sonnetto glided beside her commander, Agent Nichts, through the dense array of paramilitary mages. The rest of the two Interpol teams stayed back in order to catch anyone who fled. Only Sonnetto and Nichts had the training and magic among the two teams for this kind of dogfight. The trap with the sabotaged mono-cores had succeeded, but the enemy mages had two dozen top-line military dual-cores from America for some reason.

Sonnetto had dedicated almost all of her tattoos to barriers and powerful flight spells. Agent Nichts preferred dogfighting with a partner in these situations even though she outclassed enemy mages with her quad-core, soul-bound Type-95. It gave her access to an angelic form just like Mary Sue's, for some reason. Sonnetto knew that soul-bound foci could cause transformations in their users since soul-binding was something that had seen some usage in Persia, but those usually turned their users into elemental djinni, not angels. A lot of mysteries surrounded the Type-95, and Sonnetto was not privy to any of that information.

The angelic form had changed somewhat from its previous incarnation. Now, her arms had those silver sigils visible along her arms. Her typical yellow eyes had become slightly more silver in color. Instead of inspiring calls to the Lord of Faith in their enemies, traces of something else had invaded the form more prominently than before.

Tanya's golden hair flowed in roiling curls that turned into raging silver flames. Each of her three pairs of wings boosted Tanya forward at breakneck speeds. Sonnetto, fortunately, could match it by summoning her flight spell in triplicate as well as her three pairs of inky wings. It required intense training to keep up with the Type-95, but an alchemical woman wanted to fly with Tanya, not behind her.

Her housemate's outfit had transformed as well. She now wore a kimono duster with a wave fractal design in black and silver. Below that, she had a top and leggings that fused Akinese-style outfits with the Germanian fashion that Tanya typically wore. This was a stark difference from the typical Rumelian toga look the transformation had created before.

None of this made sense to Sonnetto. It was just another secret to patiently wait until Tanya felt safe enough to share it. The woman from Bactria had a feeling that answer would explain why they had cancelled their vacation to the Akitsuhima Dominion.

Instinct and training pushed the two women mages to go into a tandem, tight barrel roll as they unleashed their guns on the crowd of mages. Specialized ammunition, thanks to Agent U and Calamity working together, had provided Sonnetto's pistols the firepower necessary to pierce the dual-core shielding. That could not keep up with the mid-air silver sigils that multiplied Tanya's optical formula eightfold, each with deadly inevitably with them.

Ten mages downed in their initial barrage. Fourteen were left.

Even without their leader, Perez, the paramilitary troops demonstrated their veteran discipline. They sent their own guided optical formulae back at the pair. Sonnetto protected Tanya's back as she did hers. They accelerated their minds and put up point barriers, blocking each incoming attack before it could hit them. A mage shell could not take an optical formula, but a focused point barrier could.

Sonnetto felt her first two barrier tattoos fully deplete and had to activate the third one quickly before they accelerated into their next flyby assault. The enemy spread out to avoid becoming the victims of explosion formulae and forcing the two Interpol officers to rely on optical formulae and other non-saturation attacks. The acceleration formula Sonnetto had used gave her the awareness of exactly how much ammunition their guns needed. Multiplying one's shots like Tanya did came with the massive drawback of emptying her clips almost instantly. This made Sonnetto's ability to reload weapons by summoning ammunition inside their weapons an enormous boon to the duo. Without ammo, even the Type-95 would be forced into using a mage blade, which would be suicide against this many veteran mages with topline equipment from America.

When the two had reached the furthest point away from their enemy in their U-turn flight path, the two turned to face one another. Sonnetto reabsorbed her pistol and got in close enough to touch Tanya's weapon. The angelic officer's face reflected nostalgia and slight surprise.

Is this what it feels like to have your partner call out someone else's name in the act? She clearly imagined someone other than me here again. Who was that person she had during the war? Why is she still on her mind now?

With their guns replenished, the two made their way back towards their enemy. They did not turn their backs to each other yet, though. While Sonnetto and Tanya could not effectively use explosion formulae against the enemy mages, the Fransciois extremists could be against them. Fourteen mana signatures appeared along their intended flight path. Sonnetto went in for a tactic hug so they could overlap each other's barriers over one another. They had to silence the entire world around them in order to preserve their hearing. Blinding explosions occurred around them as Sonnetto's body tightly wound itself to the more petite woman's familiar torso. It was just them for a few precious seconds. Together, in a way impossible in any other circumstance.

With the mental acceleration formulae activated in preparation for the enemy's second attack, those seconds stretched into minutes, during which they two communicated with their hearts and the subtle shifts in their mana. No words were necessary between mages at this level of magecraft. Sonnetto pushed so hard for Tanya to understand her in a new way, but the woman of silver was still trapped in the mental world of an old battlefield with an unnamed other at her side instead.

After they emerged unscathed on the other side of the barrage, Sonnetto let go of Tanya. Their barriers became separate, and their backs turned to each other once again. Their mana still beat with their hearts in tandem, but it was not the same. Their merging had ended with a feeling of incompleteness in Sonnetto's artificial heart.

What must I do to get her to see me as the one who truly belongs here? Am I selfish for desiring to be that person? I can't force Tanya to accept me, so I must let her also want what I want.

Their second flyby took out the majority of those who remained. It was just a matter of cleaning up after that. They stood no chance against the duo. Those who tried to flee were caught in the containment area set up by their teammates. If Masquerade had not sabotaged a good chunk of the mages, it would have just been more of a bloodbath. It was only by comparing Tanya to these other veterans that Sonnetto finally figured out why Masquerade and Calamity tensed up every time their commander cast a spell. Tanya was an unbeatable monster in the eyes of their enemies — the Devil of the Rhine.

---

Diamond Biolab on the Sebkha of Orlan, Dzayer - 3rd of April, 1950

A storm brewed over the Diamond Biolab. The state-of-the-art facility floated over a salt lake called the Sebkha of Orlan in central Dzayer. The facility contained everything needed to remain completely autonomous from the rest of the world, from its own agriculture to its manufacturing. Granted, the population remained at around fifty individuals. It was one of many such experiments conducted by the nouveau riche around the world. This one also specialized in studying pathogens and their effect on biodiversity.

Overlord Richard Diamond lined up his putt and took a swing. The golf ball went down the turf, which was imported from the Unified States, toward the hole at the end of the indoor golf course. With every measurable imperfection eliminated, the round object did not deviate from the path the man intended it to take. The best scientists and engineers money could buy had decided everything from the unalloyed titanium of his putter to the very ground the ball passed over. Satisfaction welled in his breast as it fell right into the hole.

"Mr. Perez, don't worry," Diamond commented. "You are exactly where you should be."

The man in question, Edmond Perez, had seen better days. Lack of sleep and poor appetite clung to his features despite the state-of-the-art facilities at the Diamond Biolab. Due to the American prohibition against alcohol, the man had to remain sober for the last few days.

"This is Agent Nichts we are talking about," Perez replied. "She will tear this facility apart to get to me."

"Ye of little faith. The Lord has a role for you to play. That was why I supplied you with all those arms to help us rid the world of the enemies of our people. Our role is not always what we expect it to be, but rest assured that she will not be a problem for me. I have brought one of our best American mages in to capture her. The Lord has willed it to be so in the grand plan he has given his Chosen before he left this world."

Perez had no idea what Diamond meant by any of that, and the glass of distilled water beside him offered little comfort. His benefactor from America had shown him recorded footage from Interpol taking down his paramilitary group. Despite their top-line equipment from Diamond Industries, the Mages of Interpol 15 tore those real patriots that had fought at his side apart.

What was the point of any of this? Why had Diamond insisted on separating Perez from his men and women? None of this made any sense.

Lightning flashed outside, and the waves became choppy. While the facility remained completely balanced due to his gyroscopic internals, the subsequent darkness as Perez's eyes readjusted had two amber ones staring at him. Those were the eyes of a predator whose fangs promised death.

---

Interpol Forward Operating Base in the Plaine du Tidikelt, Dzayer - 3rd of April, 1950

Kakania von Ugar guided her fellow innovator, Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss, into the armory that Interpol had set up for her and the arms specialists. Her lab assistants were still in Berun doing follow-up on their ongoing experiments, so it was just her today. Once inside, Kakania retrieved the gear designated for their ace's mission.

Records easily found at the paramilitary compound directed the Interpol investigators towards a Biolab owned by Diamond Industries in the Sebkha of Orlan. Intelligence provided by Liliya Ivanova Tanechka indicated that the lab came with anti-air artillery and weapon systems that would tear the Interpol mages to shreds, as well as a top-of-the-line American madar system. They could be disabled, but it would take a commando to infiltrate the facility. That mage would have to go alone because there was not enough magetech for more than one person to pull off a safe approach with a reasonable likelihood of success. Tanya had naturally volunteered to be the commando.

One of the League of Nations' higher-ups had commandeered this part of Captain Müller's operation. According to the messages to which Kakania was privy, even if Tanya had not volunteered, she would have been appointed for the role. The decision to ensure it was a one-person operation also struck Kakania as odd. There was an inconsistency, a contrivance present. She kept her mouth shut on the subject because the last time Kakania had questioned the discrepancies in Interpol, they had threatened to pull funding from her research. The higher-ups from the League of Nations, who had taken an interest in the Mages of Interpol, wanted a quiet and complacent Chief Scientist. Kakania did not know how to talk about this issue, and it festered in her gut like a rotten piece of meat.

There was no fanfare preceding Kakania's presentation of the magetech Tanya would use in the mission. Lifting an object that resembled a wristwatch, Kakania began. "Agent N, this will hide your mana signature while casting spells as long as you do not use over three hundred thaums of mana."

That meant most military-grade magic was off the table, including flight.

"Agent U, a question," Tanya interjected, using Kakania's preferred efficient designation despite having known her full name since the scientist was still a teenager. Tanya had been her father's friend, and that was how they eventually met a few years before the man had unfortunately died. "Does this actually tell the time?"

"No, unnecessary."

Much like reminiscing about the past, which Tanya understood too. Where the world expected so many impractical social rules of everyone in other women, the two women who diverged from the normal found each other's company refreshing. Both saw these rules for what they were — arbitrary, much like the watch's need to tell time. While Tanya played along with these rules, Kakania found them exhausting. The energy she wanted to use for science rapidly ran out if she donned a mask and played the socialite expected of a Germanian noblewoman. Where mages had their mana exhausted if they overextended themselves, Kakania had terrible burnout from trying to socialize.

"This is a wet suit," Kakania continued on a deliberately circumspect path around the tent. "Put it on."

The "please" was implied and understood between them.

Tanya closed the tent flaps and did as instructed. The Interpol officer had mastered the art of the quick change over the years, and in record time, Tanya was changed. Having a costumed alter ego lent itself to an odd skillset.

Lifting up a bulky hairclip, the Chief Scientist completed her outfitting. "This device contains a miniature mono-core that cannot exceed three hundred thaums. It can only use one spell at a time, but you can twist it here and here to alter the formula. It is preset to the oxygen spell, which will allow you to breathe underwater without detection."

"Does it work as a hairclip?"

"Yes."

It wasn't fashionable but could easily be hidden in Tanya's hair without detection. The mage was part of the Weiss family. She knew all the standard spell formulae. They would be much weaker than their military-grade equivalents but would suffice for this mission. Tanya would also still have her dual-core and Type-95 in case of an emergency.

Then Kakania tossed Tanya a grenade, which the veteran skillfully caught. "This contains sleeping gas. Pull the pin and toss as usual. Three seconds of exposure to gas will knock out targets. Takes fifteen seconds to deplete and thirty seconds to become ineffective. The effect will fill the control room easily. Use the oxygen spell to counteract."

"Okay!" Tanya clipped the grenade to the designated area on the wetsuit.

With a backpack full of food and other supplies for the traversal part of the journal, Tanya was all geared up and ready to go. She left the tent and headed out into a storm that had come out of nowhere. Kakania did note that the mage's arms appeared like she was wearing a lab coat. Intellectually, the Chief Scientist knew that it was an illusion of the Silver Mirror effect, but part of her smiled to know that the mirror reflected that Tanya was her lab partner.

---

Diamond Biolab on the Sebkha of Orlan, Dzayer - 4th of April, 1950

It was the dead of night by the time I crossed several kilometers between our F.O.B. and the lab. I had to cover lush grassland all by foot, using nothing but the hairclip for spellcasting. I left the backpack with food and traveling supplies in a thicket near the salt lake before diving into the water with the oxygen spell set up and active.

Had I not run enhancement formulae the whole way, I would have been entirely physically exhausted. I needed to wean myself off using magic for physical tasks. Matheus had encouraged me to join him and Agent Masquerade in their exercise, but I only had the heart to do cardio. I just could not explain to others why I had an aversion to any significant form of muscle-building. Plus, my reliance on enhancement formulae paid off in massive dividends by giving me the skills necessary to overcome my deficits in magic in other areas.

Upon reaching the facility, I noticed a submarine dock underneath it where the scientists presumable conducted their underwater experiments. At this late hour, I suspected that it was a safe bet, which proved correct when I saw no one there.

This was way before security cameras and other kinds of surveillance existed, so I had plenty of ability to maneuver. There would not be as many guards suspecting a stealth attack like this. Masquerade would have been instantly found out with their mana detectors, and he lacked the fighting capability to brute force his way out if needed.

I pulled myself out of the water and sprinted to cover. I had memorized the map of the facility given to us by the commies. The route I needed to take would require me simply going up two floors. There were no elevators in this facility. A staircase nearby would take me to the hallway that led to the central operating station that controlled the weapons. I just had to overload the computation orbs, and they would create a chain reaction that would blow up the entire room. I would have plenty of time to escape if all things went to plan. They never did, but that was what the Type-95 was for.

I switched my hairclip into a mana blade. It would be puny, but it would get the job done.

Surprisingly, no one obstructed my path until I got up to the floor with the control room on it. A Silver Shirt guard patrolled the hallway, which supported my personal theory that Diamond Industries was in cahoots with the Silver Legion. One can tell they are Silver Shirts by their blue shirts with the scarlet letter L on them. I could not determine from a glance if he was a mage or not, but whatever the very recent Communist intelligence about this facility contained, the League of Nations had personally given us Clearance A.

When I saw his back, I finally pounced. One hand covered his mouth while the other slit his throat with the knife-sized mana blade. I sprinted down the hallway to the control room. The specialized footwear that came with the suit made my approach quiet.

A glass door blocked the entrance. Surprisingly, though it could be locked, it wasn't. This was a level of hubris I did not understand. I quickly readjusted the hairclip to oxygen mode and placed it in my mouth. Pushing the door open, I tossed in the grenade.

I could hear some woman reading something mind-numbing aloud in heavily accented American Albish that mirrored Calamity's perfectly.

"...returns to the cradle of civilization, the pawn shall become queen once more, and this will be your sign that White Silver and the Devil, whom the Lord has given his children to restore their faith, will soon become known the whole world. Then the war to end all wars will begin, so prepare my children, for your faith is not of peace but sharpened by battle, and you are made closer to Him through your suffering."

When the woman stopped mouthing utter nonsense, I had the sense that all the silver shirt mages in the control room must have gone unconscious.

I dashed into the room, around the unconscious and soon-to-be dead bodies, and up to the previously manned control panel where the integrated computation orbs existed. Only the Americans and their Akinese allies had this level of magetech. They allowed mages to man the artillery precisely and infuse their weapons with spells. Tanks and other military hardware had similarly gained mage equivalents. With enough tri-cores, you could have nearly impenetrable tanks rolling through enemy territory. That was what was happening in the Aztec Empire as the Americans continued their war of expansion across the Americas. At this rate, the term American will unambiguously just refer to the Unified States.

The first lesson every mage learned was how to avoid causing a computation orb to explode. It was intentionally hard to do, but one could do it if they knew how. Even a military-grade mono-core would go off like a grenade. The explosion only got exponentially larger as the number of cores increased. Just by running my mana through the computation orbs as I straddled the unconscious body of a Silver Shirt mage, I could tell that these were tri-cores in the control panel. There was no way my team could handle the hardware these mages working for Diamond Industries had.

I pumped the necessary frequencies of mana into the orbs and verified the rapid loss of stability between the cores. As I hopped over bodies and hastily made my retreat, out the door I came through. I had only gotten two hundred meters down the hall and temporarily stored my hair clip in my hair when I heard thunder from indoors.

"Cobra!" Two butcher-like blades sailed past me and blocked me. They stabbed into the floor panels like the fangs of the aforementioned snake. "They left you to fight me all by your lonesome. Bless your heart."

I turned to see who my assailant was, and I immediately started charging up my Type-95. It was the same voice as the one belonging to the woman who had been reading earlier. Somehow, she did not go down with the sleeping gas. My barrier barely came up in time as the lightning latched itself to the handles of the blades and pulled them back to the enemy mage. The attacker was a woman who appeared to be twenty years of age, but we all knew that meant nothing to mages. She had long, off-white hair and amber eyes. Her outfit was a faded black top, a yellow skirt and bowtie, and grey leggings. In both hands, mighty cleavers shimmered with elemental energy.

The resemblance could not be a coincidence.

"I reckon you figured out my identity, White Silver, but it ain't going to do you any good.

"I can't say I know you, but I think I know someone from your family."

The woman carried her blades down the hall towards me. Lightning arced along the metal panels on the walls of the hallway. "You mean my lil sis? Yeah, we used to be two peas in a pod until the Civil War. I may not share the values of the plantation owners or these Silver Shirts, but this is what I have to do to protect my family. I will read their books and do whatever dance they want me to do because, unlike my sis, I don't have the luxury to uproot my life and defect every time the going gets hard."

I walked backward, slowly keeping us equidistance from one another, as the Type-95 built charge. Each core took but a moment, but I wanted to buy as much time as possible. The explosion would be my opportunity to flee from this person. Fortunately, the enemy mage shared her sister's chattiness.

"I must apologize. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Mary Canary, but do you know what everyone calls me Stateside?"

I took a deep breath. The explosion was imminent. I was well outside the explosion radius, and so was she. "What?" I asked, entertaining her.

"They call me the Tejas Twister!"

With that, she spun at me with an unbelievable speed like a top. The computation orbs in the control room went off, but she was all I could focus on.

Mary Canary commissioned from Naze​

I didn't have time to react to pull out my pistol before I had to retreat at full speed down the hall. Even the Type-95 at full power could not absorb all the force of those blades. Even if somehow Mary Canary had the lion's share of the magical ability in the family, this level of power did not actually make much sense given what I knew about how the two sisters came to be. No one aside from Mary Sue should even come close to matching the power of the Type-95.

With my pistol in my hands, I spun around to blast an explosion formula to slow her down.

It didn't.

In all my years in this world Being X created, only Mary Sue had frustrated me as much as this Tejas Twister did now. I should give her an award, but unfortunately, I was fresh out of "fuck you" trophies after the whole kidnapping Matheus thing had ended.

If one explosion didn't work, then how about eight? I missed the staircase to shoot again as I flew backward around the third floor of the biolab, but I did not have a lot of choices given the fierceness. Using the Type-95 to multiply my spell output, I filled the visible hallway with a saturation attack that should hit her.

"Urgent Fury!" Mary Canary shouted as she went into an aileron roll and zoomed past where I placed my explosion formulae before they even blew up. "Silver Wake!"

She literally flew past me and landed on the wall perpendicular to the ground, and a mana-infused sonic boom launched me away from her and onto the roof of the facility, where an aircraft of some sort looked ready for takeoff. Were they fleeing the facility? It was a jet. The runway wasn't long enough, but with a mage pilot and a powerful enough computation orb embedded in the plane, it was possible.

It wasn't that she was more powerful than me — she wasn't, but Mary Canary had surprised me with her speed, skill, and unfamiliar spellcraft. A century of experience was no joke, and her spells were all American originals I never encountered during the war. Much like what I had taught Fang, fighting an opponent you did not understand but understood gave them a significant advantage.

Her calling out her attacks was only a little odd to me. In karate and other forms of martial arts, screaming helped maintain proper breathing and increase power. I assumed Mary Canary did it for similar reasons. Given how powerful she was, I doubted any enemy would live long enough to memorize the codenames for her attacks.

The enemy mage floated up the stairs onto the deck. Rain, lightning, and the sound of the jet's engine filled the air around us. Droplets of water ran down my mage shell, only slightly obscuring my view of her.

"You disappoint me if that is all you can do with those outdated magicks, honey," she called out to me.

A few silvershirts had gotten on the deck. They had rifles and dual-cores that should be able to pierce my mage shell.

"That is laughable coming from someone who brings swords to a gunfight," I replied. Every second bought me more time to think of a way out of this, and my team had more time to cross the distance and get here to back me up.

"You really don't understand anything."

One of the mages shot at me, but I paid him little mind as barely any mana came off his attack. I flew in the opposite direction from Mary Canary, but before I could get ten feet, I faceplanted onto the deck. Rained poured onto my face.

I felt my transformation dissipate.

"You know my sister comes from America, don'tcha? Why the hell did you, White Silver of all people, not think we also had shell-piercing rounds?"

Calamity had ammunition specifically designed to nonlethally take down mages. It could go through mana shields and deactivate computation orbs. Even though the Type-95 was unique, it still followed most of the same rules as all other computation orbs did.

I had grown complacent fighting mobsters and other riffraff who used Great War magetech. If I got out of this alive, I would take more cases abroad. It would be like a work vacation. I definitely did not want to get caught unaware like this again.

Before I could switch to my backup dual-core, I got tranquilized and went out like a light. They had been outsmarted.

---

Richard Diamond followed Mary Canary, who was carrying White Silver, onto the plane. A lot of spycraft, planning, and good old hard work pull this off. Everything had to be perfect. As much as the prophecy gave them confidence, the future was not determined even for the Lord of Faith. The prophecy had only given clues about what might work. It was the duty of his servants to make the possible a reality.

Behind him, one of the soldiers blocked the path of the "cheese" for this trap.

"Hey, let me through! Interpol will be here any moment."

"Don't worry, Mr. Perez," Diamond soothed with his deep, charismatic voice of a masterclass businessman. "I personally guaranteed that Interpol would never captured, didn't I?"

"You did, but almost no one is here. I am on a giant floating coffin."

An apt analogy. Diamond continued up the ladder into the plan as he answered his former client.

"Mr. Perez, remember what I told you about how our roles in the Lord's plan don't always end up being what we expect? Well, you have served yours."

"What does that mean?" he shouted in desperation.

Edmond Perez found out not long after Richard Diamond and his employees flew off with their prizes.

The sound of the facility self-destructing in the background gave him such a thrill. The American businessman had always liked fireworks. No evidence would be left behind regarding the purpose of that facility. Ispagna and Ildoa had played their part in the League of Nations. It was just a matter of paying them back. Richard Diamond always paid back his debts.

---

Over the Atlantis Sea en route to Hashington, D.C. - 4th of April, 1950

I awoke to the luxurious interior of a jet plane. The feeling of handcuffs chaffed my skin until they suddenly didn't.

A mystery to figure out later.

I pushed my back against the chair to obscure my now free hands. The rage of being caged, no matter how gilded, started infecting my thoughts. Without my Nichts outfit, I lacked the psychological anchoring to keep my more irrational side from infecting my thoughts and distorting my will.

"Ah, so White Silver has decided to join us, and just in time for dinner."

A European-American man greeted me in a voice that sounded like he planned this all, further irritating me. We sat across from one another at a small dining table. A prime steak, heavily buttered corn on the cob, potatoes, and gravy lay before him. He took a bite and then signaled Mary Canary to serve me the same dish. The woman cut a piece of stake and held it up to my mouth to eat.

"Don't worry, none of this is poisoned or laced with drugs," the man clarified. "Just a normal all-American meal."

Mary Canary demonstrated after receiving another signal by eating the previously offered bite of steak and then fetching a clean silver utensil. I decided to eat even if it was bringing back some annoying memories from my early years in this life.

"It is an honor getting to finally meet The White Silver."

"Where did you hear that name from?" I asked between bites and sips of sweet tea (blegh!).

"The founder of our great movement, Arthur Pelley, my dear. It was right before the end of the war when he received a vision from the Lord. Our god told us to find you, and it is with great pride and honor for me to do that for the Silver Legion."

Being X is gone, and he still finds a way to ruin my life.

I figured I would let this maniac monologue give me essential information and let me think of my potential escape routes. I could still feel Kakania's watch on my wrist and the hairpin stored in my hair. My Type-95 and dual-core were nowhere to be seen.

"My name is Richard Diamond of Diamond Industries. Perhaps you heard of me?"

I had, but I had focused on loading up on carbs, which I needed to build up my mana again.

He kept on talking. "You know, when I was a child, the clergy had told me the Lord wanted peace. I believed them in my foolishness back then. Magic was god's gift to mortals to show us that he existed, they had said. They pointed to all the healing it could do as a sign that we were to mend, not destroy.

"But I got older and had to put away such a naive understanding of things. Blessed are the poor? Blessed are the meek? It's all a bunch of rubbish and lies meant to weaken us. They are the words of corruption spoken to us by our lessers so they can control us."

As a person from the 21st century, I internally groaned. One of the many headaches of going back in time was dealing with all the surprise and naivete around fascist ideology. The League of Nations was too pacifistic to handle the Unified States and its genocidal Destiny Manifest. It was just appeasement all over again. I had told my neighbors that a multilateral approach was necessary to fight fascism, but people from the Berun community just lumped me with the fascists for my neoliberal perspective for some unfathomable reason. I was just one woman in a world full of people, so I had very little power over world events and politics. At least the people from my old world knew better than to tolerate fascism.

The maniac kept running his mouth as I ate and plotted.

"My life all changed when I studied biology in college and learned about the survival of the fittest. Everything started to make sense. Inside every living thing was the desire to kill, consume, multiply, and conquer. The Lord did not make us peaceful but warlike. We are driven to war in order to clear away the chaff and let the cream rise naturally to the top, just like you, our precious unalloyed White Silver."

I ignored him for my own sanity. I spotted the door. It had a way for passengers to unlock it and flee the plane if need be. With all the Silver Shirts and Mary Canary, my only hope for escape would be to wait for an opportunity to bolt out of the hatch. I hope the hairclip and an emergency computation orb, thankfully next to the exit, would be enough. The depressurized cabin might kill them, but I doubted Interpol would punish me for escaping.

"Oh, what wonderful silver sparks are going off in your eyes!" he exclaimed.

I had no idea what he was talking about and just waited for Mary Canary to give me more of that inferior drink. Iced tea! It was several levels of abomination to the far more civilized cup of coffee. At least in Japan, we had ceremonies and traditions to elevate the drink. This really just tasted like sugar. It might have some caffeine in it, but not nearly enough to even give me a hint of the wakefulness I craved when working. Really, I could not relate to these fascists at all.

The corn on the cob was impractical to eat while pretending to be restrained, so thankfully, the Tejas Twister cut it off. Corn was something very American. Subsidies had ruined the agricultural industry in the Unified States in my eyes. If they let the free market decide instead of overreacting to the crop destruction during the Dust Bowl, they would have a much more balanced diet. At this rate, they would end up using corn in everything from plywood to gasoline.

"Where was I?" Diamond asked rhetorically. He did not sound like a person who lost his place. "Oh yes, the drive to war. No more obvious is that drive than in our magic. The Lord makes this clear through his Chosen — the mages. The Chosen feel a divine need for combat ever since the advent of computation orbs. Magic is the gift upon the world by our Lord to show us that he wills us to war, which fuels innovation, progress, and evolution."

My mind drowned out his speech with intense planning. I had enough of Being X's propaganda when I was at the orphanage. There was no way any of this was important or actually relevant to me. The little I did retain from his speech was mostly stuff I knew from actually having met the being they called a god. All Being X did was take away my peace, keeping it ever beyond my grasp no matter how hard I tried. My every action, following strictly the dictates of reason and pragmatism, served the purpose of bringing me a place where I could peacefully live out the rest of my days. Never did I misstep and do something that made the war worse due to some irrational prejudice on my part. Eventually, I just could not live without a battlefield despite all my attempts to flee it.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal went uneventfully. I remained quiet and nonresponsive. Eventually, everyone went to sleep, and that was when I bolted for it.

Before the guards could react, I was out the door and dropping into the Atlantis Sea with just a mono-core, a high-quality mono-core, but nothing to write home about.

The computation orb had everything I needed to reach the sea level safely. Being on those manned torpedoes paid off as I knew how to combine barrier and oxygen spells together for submersible travel. I just needed Mary Canary to give up the chase.

When I switched to the relatively bulky hairpin computation orb, my mage shell disappeared, and ocean water smashed into me. The oxygen spell combined with my wristwatch would mask my presence. I could just eke out a meek enhancement formula, too. It helped me swim somewhat faster.

Mary Canary flashed overhead like lightning, searching for either my mana signature or my head to get above water, but I never did. Eventually, she had no choice but to return to the aircraft, which had unfortunately not crashed.

---

Berun Cementary - 14th of April, 1950

Sonnetto could not believe this day had come so soon. Tanya had always seemed so impervious to everything fate threw at her, yet here everyone who loved her was, mourning her passing. It had been over a week since her housemate had gone missing, and after the biolab self-destructed and having found no signs of a living Tanya, it became official. Tanya was declared dead on the 11th of April, 1950. They had seen a jet take off and leave a contrail before getting in range of the facility, but it would be insane to think Tanya would be on it. No one thankfully landed on it before the whole thing exploded.

The funeral service included eulogies from each person who had volunteered and been approved by Sonnetto and Matheus. No clergy were present. Tanya wouldn't want them to have. Sonnetto and Matheus had personally checked the speeches ahead of time to make sure no one hypothesized that the blonde veteran had made any religious conversion in her final moments.

Many would give sincere speeches that touched on how they remembered her when Tanya was alive. The surviving members of the Salamander Kampfgruppe, in particular, provided the bulk of these speeches. While not all of them cried, some did. They regularly explained how Tanya's standards of competence got them through the whole war alive despite all the odds stacked against them. The Weiss family also showed up to discuss how she had taken care of her grandparents and assisted in managing the family's finances over the years to keep them above water during the Recession.

Sonnetto wished she could cry like that, yet her eyes remained as intense as ever to the others who had come to solemnize this day. She wanted to world to know the world to know how she felt. That was why she had painted the Tanya she knew — the one who had flown with her that day over Dzayer in their battle of Covert Corp. Despite all the explosions surrounding them, they had made a place for each other in their twin barriers. Tanya's eyes stared back in time towards the men and women who had fought by her side, which reflected in the images on her side of the bubble. Sonnetto's eyes looked forward towards what could have been.

Some gave politically motivated speeches. It was a tossup for Sonnetto and Matheus whether to include them. In the end, Sonnetto decided to include some of them because she thought it was important to solemnize what Tanya had meant to people as long as they did not impose their politics onto her. The late veteran had politics but did not like to make them known for various reasons.

The first speech that touched on politics went to Elya, who kept it concise. Basically, Tanya was someone who never intended to inspire or make a difference but did anyway. She saw herself as intensely self-centered and family-centered, yet always found a way to be in the right place at the right time to save the day. Her commitment to competence and due diligence was her greatest asset and weakness, leading her to always do the most at her own expense.

Hilary Brecht was the second to discuss Tanya's politics in depth. She called Tanya a problematic feminist icon. Tasteful criticisms were allowed. The idea was to give the full view of the woman, the good and the bad. Tanya was always ahead of her time. At the center of her worldview lay the idea that freedom meant the absence of coercion.

Despite assisting Brecht's organization after the war, Tanya refused the feminist label. Tanya wore the clothes she wanted to wear and fit the New Woman archetype perfectly yet characterized herself as conservatively minded. Brecht could not understand how someone so far forward in their daily behavior could hold such an opinion of herself.

As Sonnetto understood Tanya, her housemate had both obsessed over social norms and chaffed at them. Her spirit yearned for freedom yet feared society's hammer kept her back. Elya and Brecht gave Tanya an outlet to vent her frustrations on the limitations of her freedom in the form of violence, which was problematic for a number of reasons. Elya would have pointed to ends as justifying the means based on what Sonnetto had gleaned from a handful of short conversations about the stomach-churning relationship the two seemed to have had. Maybe the world was a better place given that Tanya had stopped the Kaiser's Men from taking over back in 1934, but did it have to be Tanya? Did it have to be that way?

Sonnetto knew that Tanya had been forever changed by the Great War. Tanya then let Elya mold her into the Interpol officer she was today. Sonnetto felt something for Tanya, which the crimson-eyed woman wanted to call love, yet she still knew Tanya had some deep-rooted problems. Brecht had not been wrong to call her housemate problematic.

The Devil of the Rhine, who Tanya had once been, was a mixed bag. With time and distance from the Great War, historians and legal experts painted a more nuanced picture of the figure. Not everyone agreed that she should be punished if she was ever found, as Mary Sue's ongoing investigation uncovered more context behind her actions. Tanya's deep-rooted problems would never go away as long as she ran from her secrets. The truth would set her free, Sonnetto felt.

But none of that mattered now.

"Who died?" someone asked. Sonnetto kept her eyes forward towards the eulogy. The person next to her sounded exhausted and familiar, very dehydrated, and with a raspy voice that sounded an awful like Tanya's when she did her Nichts voice.

Sonnetto, who had stood near the entrance to help guide people to their assigned seats between eulogies, tapped her thought-to-speech spell to answer the question. She had put in a lot of time preparing thought-to-speech spells so that she could give her speech alongside her sign language.

"This is a funeral for Tanya von Weiss."

"Oh no, I am so sorry."

"Don't be. We all miss her so much."

"I mean, I tried to call ahead of time, but the Francois authorities did not like a Germanian flying over their airspace without proper ID, Interpol or not. I was released a few hours ago. This American computation orb doesn't even work with our communication spells. It is like using an FM radio for AM. They are just not compatible if that makes sense. I tried to call the moment I had some change for a pay phone, but no one answered, and I did not have my phonebook to call other numbers. I decided to just fly the rest of the way rather than wait to get in contact since I didn't have any money for food or anything. I only knew to come here because I sensed your mana signature."

"You don't have to apologize or give excuses. You aren't the only one who arrived late."

Sonnetto heard the woman who had come late to Tanya's funeral take a draft of water from the station they had set up. For some reason, Matheus, who was giving the current eulogy, stopped mid-sentence, distracting Sonnetto further from attending to the person who had just shown up.

"This has to stop."

It is like I can still hear her. The voice was faint, like what a ghost must sound like.

"I am not dead. Everybody, I am not dead."

Wait what?

Tanya Degurechaff von Weiss walked into the room. She looked like she had just completed an Ironman competition and flown across half of Europa.

---

A World-Class Golf Course near Hashington D.C., Unified States - April 20th, 1950

President Philip Yockey watched closely as Richard Diamond determined how best to get out of the sand trap into which the man's golf ball had landed. The entrepreneur had taken a risky shot earlier, going for a more direct route instead of the more circumspect one that Yockey had taken.

"I am rather disappointed, Dick," the President of the Unified States confessed. "Losing White Silver will not play well with the ideologues."

A catty gave Diamond a sand wedge — the safe option.

"The story of her resurrection can be used."

"So, is this Tanya von Weiss really her?" Yockey questioned.

"Matches Pelley's mural perfectly, I guarantee it, Mr. President. I never—"

"Go back on a guarantee. You said that about bringing her to me."

His reports on Tanya von Weiss became quite thorough after he added his own inquiries to the countless other inquiries into her career and life during the whole Perez fiasco.

Diamond opted to switch to an iron, which would give him much more distance. This left Yockey with the impression that the businessman was brutish and forceful. In this position, trees blocked the path to the flag around a sharp curve. Diamond did not need an iron to get into the green at this point in this position. In Yockey's eyes, a wedge would get him on the greenway beyond the obstacle of the trees and give him an unobstructed shot for the hole.

All of this, the President candidly said aloud to his golfing companion for the day.

"She will come to us on her own," Diamond claimed boldly.

"Why do you say that?"

"We have her precious Type-95. We will just offer to return it to her when the time is right, and everything lines up perfectly."

Diamond lined himself not to shoot around the trees but through them. Yockey had to reposition himself, and then he saw it. There was a gap there. It was small, but a good golfer could thread it.

"I don't play a game without scouting ahead, Mr. President. I hope you don't mind."

Diamond took the shot and got onto the green near the hole.

President Yockey was dumbfounded.

The businessman did not gloat, but pride filled his breast. Even mistakes can be corrected with patience, knowledge, and effort.

Yockey cleared his throat. He knew a lost game when he saw one and said as much. They would play it out still. There was enjoyment in just seeing excellence and being near it, a sentiment with which Diamond sympathized.

"The progress in cultivating more pathogens is slow but should be ready for our overseas clients in five years," the businessman told the president, who had given Diamond Industries a hefty military contract to develop the product. The ecology of the salt lake in Dzayer proved invaluable for testing and developing it. Edmond had worked with the Germania Ring Clubs and Diamond Industries — such was his very exploitable rage.

Bringing Perez to the biolab was just a convenient way of dealing with two birds with one stone. The biolab needed to go after Tanechka had somehow figured out an inkling of what they were doing there and tipped off the League of Nations. Diamond also had promised to retrieve White Silver. While she escaped, Perez was dead, and the biolab no more. Most of the essential loose ends were eliminated.

While Interpol would be tipped off about Diamond Industries' involvement with the Covert Corp, who had helped provide resources for their experiments in exchange for their weapons, what could they do to stop the Unified States? It wasn't a crime to sell weapons to someone alleged of crimes by the League of Nations. At most, there would be an obstruction of justice charge, but any scapegoat could take the fall for that. You could not imprison companies or countries, and the owners were legally distinct from the companies they owned.

If the League of Nations had one fundamental flaw, it was that its teeth were not sharp enough to challenge countries. Interpol could only hold accountable leaders whose countries had personally given them over to Interpol through Red Notices. There was a vast difference between Interpol going after a paramilitary group or a few politicians for crimes against humanity and taking on the country itself.

Thinking about the pathogen he had helped develop, Diamond could not help but feel pride. No one understood the Silver Legion's true aims and how they involved the pathogen, except those at the very top like him.

Change was inevitable. Richard Diamond hoped White Silver would see that and realize he only wanted what she needed—a world that would understand her. The change had already begun, but it would one day envelope everything.

---

Concept Art for Mary Canary commissioned from Sasika Guruge

With Dress

With Armor​

Lorelei's Note:
I definitely realize that my writing drags a lot in places. One of the big pieces of advice from my beta readers was where to trim for this chapter, which was Tanya going off on a non sequitur about Elya and Kakania talking about her similarities and differences with Tanya. When I go back to previous chapters, one thing I will do is reduce the amount of reflecting going on so that chapters are snappier. We lose out in information but we will gain in readability. I have this volumetric habit anyways, so cutting down helps with that.
This chapter came about because DrkShdow told me we haven't had a chapter of Tanya demonstrating her competencies. That got me thinking about how to actually depict different ways the 1950s Tanya fights both alone and in a team.

Artists:
Naze: https://x.com/NAZENANI_3634
Sasika Guruge: @SasikaGuruge on Twitter (NSFW Artist page, so no link)

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Marketplace, Berun - 1st of November, 1933

Freedom (n.): To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing. - Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead.

That quote flitted through my mind as I shopped on my own for my family's needs and something that would help me keep the Nichts persona stick better. I read The Fountainhead in my first life in my senior year of high school in my first life, and it changed my life. The story is about a man with unconventional but innovative ideas who goes against the grain of society. It pits genius against society. While the depiction of the female lead makes me recoil in retrospect, I did not think about that as an angsty teenager. I wanted desperately to be one of those world-changing geniuses, not only so that my father could brag about my achievements to my aunts and uncles but so that I could have control over my life.

For the New Intellectual served as Ayn Rand's more developed conception of the role of genius few in society. As she wrote:

"The man at the top of the intellectual pyramid contributes the most to all those below him, but gets nothing except his material payment, receiving no intellectual bonus from others to add to the value of his time. The man at the bottom who, left to himself, would starve in his hopeless ineptitude, contributes nothing to those above him, but receives the bonus of all of their brains. Such is the nature of the 'competition' between the strong and the weak of intellect. Such is the pattern of 'exploitation' for which you have damned the strong."
[Ayn Rand (1963). "For the New Intellectual: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand (50th Anniversary Edition)", p. 152]

Rand used the word "exploitation" very deliberately, for it is not the worker who is exploited, as the communists would have us believe, but rather these geniuses. The Pareto principle (also known as the 80/20 rule), which underlies views like Rand's, states that roughly 80% of the production or benefits come from approximately 20% of the stock or population. Italian polymath Vilfredo Pareto, for whom the principle is named, discovered that 80% of the land was owned by 20% of the population. Joseph M. Juran further developed this theory and recharacterized it as the "vital few and the useful many" in order to make it clear that the other 80% of the population is not entirely useless.

At first, I attempted to emulate those great geniuses. Still, my long line of silver and bronze trophies and constant double-guess sabotaging my university entrance exams had soon proven to my father and me that I was no genius. I lacked the intoxicatingly attractive confidence of Rand's heroes in the face of uncertainty and society's dictates that made their smarts transcend into the realm of real genius.

Rand and Juran, thankfully, saw a place for me. If I could not be at the top and being at the bottom was unforgivable, then I would settle for being in the useful middle. Mediocrity — my silver existence — led me to a position in middle management. In this life, that had meant a lieutenant colonel.

That was why it was vital for me to find meaningful work in the post-war period. For all of Matheus' attempts to bolster confidence in my supposed competence, his father, Nikolas Weiss, fully expected me to get married and quit shortly after that.

I was not a NEET who consumed but did not produce. I was definitely not a communist who, in a jealous rage, killed off the geniuses they depended upon to survive and was surprised when a deadly famine occurred. I would not steal from those who had just because I failed to procure for my survival. Everyone had to take responsibility for themselves. If you cannot support yourself on your own as those geniuses could, then you should find a genius for whom to be useful. That person would not be a husband to me for countless reasons. Elya's team of scientists and activists was a start.

I went through the pitiful selection of foods available. While the Unified States had quickly rallied to prevent the Francois and Albish from starving, that borderline socialist country currently under the Reconstructionists decided that their soldiers should not share food with Germanians, fearing giving us plentiful calories would drive us into rebellion. I could not believe that anyone wanted war anymore.

It seemed so irrational, yet when I broached the subject with Matheus, he felt like we should have won. It did not matter to me. The sunk cost fallacy had no hold upon me. Sometimes, you had to cut someone or an entire division loose. Attachment only led to less efficiency, and less efficiency meant less production. What we needed was more production, not less.

I sighed.

"Oh, Fraulein Weiss, it is nice to see you, but you really shouldn't shop alone!"

I turned to see Mr. Serebryakov. He looked thinner and exhausted. Despite his noble background, even he had to get food for his family.

"It is fine. Being alone, that is. I know how to shop for myself."

"A smart girl like you, I don't doubt you. It is just that you know it isn't safe."

He wasn't wrong. Some of the soldiers of the occupying forces lacked discipline. More than once, Matheus had taken the time to help one of our neighbors who had gotten put into their place or taken advantage of. Germania lacked the leverage to object during the temporary supervision in the few months after the war. These soldiers left lawlessness in their wake as criminal elements filled the void.

I nodded but kept on my shopping.

"You don't mind if I join you."

I had no qualms. He was a free man. He could do as he pleased, and his company was not entirely objectionable.

Fortunately, the soldiers, who aggressively reminded us of our supposed blame in all this suffering, will be leaving shortly. As much as the Unified States simultaneously supervised and dictated the resulting peace with their humanitarian leverage, we had the conditional surrender that guaranteed us a greater degree of national self-determination. This Germania was closer to the Imperial Germany of my last life but still significantly divergent from that incarnation of the country. Our Foreign Minister Tarken might have had a revanchist agenda, but Minister Harden of my previous life was aggressively pursuing war if my memory served me right.

My Germania had a more peaceful overall bent. For example, Germania being invaded characterized the early years of the war, with many of us in the military striving to end the war as soon as possible. The dining hall at Headquarters purposefully fed the General Staff terrible food similar to what soldiers might have on the front lines in order to make sure the General Staff never got a taste for war or lost sight of what it was like for us soldiers.

With the nearly inedible food we have after the war, people might lose a taste for peace.

Germania was certainly no paper tiger before the war, but that did not justify our enemies declaring war preemptively. This made the depictions of us as heartless monsters who deserved this all the more insulting.

Heartless…what a familiar epithet.

"I know the competition is hard," Herr Serbyakova commented as we mutually struggled to pick out anything from the legally available food. "But you are a beautiful and diligent girl. I am sure you will find a husband soon."

Mr. Serebryakov did not mean anything wrong about what he said. One just needed to smile and nod along. I had practiced smiling in the mirror, actually. Elya had told me it would make people think I was safe and gentle. Given how Mr. Serebryakov did not treat me like a threat, it must have worked.

Perhaps if I had known how to smile properly, my adjutant would have reacted better.

"How are things with the young Frau Serebryakov?" I inquired. I could not call her Fraulein (or Miss). My former adjutant was in her late twenties.

"My sweet Viktoriya is…." He paused, searching for a polite way to say something. "Doing her best. We have tried to pair her with a nice Russy mage from our side of town, but it did not work out."

"She has gotten…." I lacked a polite way to say the same thing. My former adjutant had gotten intense. Where Matheus had become more desperately empathetic, and I had gotten mopey, for lack of a better word, Viktoriya had gotten claws.

She had reached that age where her parents feared she would become a "leftover woman". Like this unappetizing partially rotten apple I honestly considered buying, society considered women who reached their thirties as having been passed over. To be fair, Serebryakov did not look a day over twenty-five. All of my 203rd had quite the vitality, and even the stress of war and food shortages had failed to prematurely age them. Herr Serebryakov, for comparison, looked ten years older than his fifty-three.

My long-term friend Maximilian von Ugar had been in his forties but looked even older. He was practically knocking on death's door with a cough he could never shake. His daughter and I have been doing our best for him, but we knew his time was coming soon. There was no medicine, and I lacked any training in the highly technical field of healing magic, which created countless tumors without a proper understanding of what you were actually doing.

"You know, on Sunday, our Orthodox church is holding a soup kitchen," the Russy man mentioned. Both Matheus and Herr Serbyrakov had tried to get me to their respective churches. I had not desired it, even if food was offered. The price was too steep. The one time I had gone with Herr Serbyrakov and his family, I couldn't help but feel besieged and threatened. It didn't matter how kind they acted. Their faith taught people to submit and obey, and every icon and verse cut into my sense of self like razor wire.

I don't care if being a puppet or some kind of instrument of Being X makes them happy. That would be death to me. My only happiness was in being free in a way that I sometimes struggled to articulate, even with the helpful guide that Rand had provided me in my last life.

I declined him politely, keeping my thoughts off my face. Elya had been very insistent that I learn to school my features. By just going out and doing more things, my irrational excesses became significantly more straightforward to manage. I just needed to finish piecing myself back together.

Despite rejecting his offer and finishing my shopping, the tall man decided to keep following me to the army surplus store.

The factories had plenty of plain uniforms left after the war, and there was plenty from which to choose, even if no shirts or pants would fit my unique proportions. What I needed was going to be different from what I had during the war but similar. I did not need to be an instrument of efficient war, but my peace would be the product of violence.

"Why are you here, Fraulein? Do you need another dress? If you damaged the one we bought you, my darling girl can teach you how to make one. You can also just make one with a bolt of cloth. Matheus has a sowing machine for you to use, right?"

I did know how to use a sewing machine. I was self-sufficient. You could often buy your own patterns and then just make your own clothes. That was what was expected. Women typically wore cotton dyed black or other dark colors. It was easier to clean after the quotidian drudgery. Gentlemen like Herr Serbryakov wore fabrics and colors of status, such as velvet and pink. They didn't get on their hands and feet and clean floors or deal with any of the other countless tasks expected of wives and daughters.

"Just getting some work clothes," I answered honestly. "It is all really nothing to be concerned about."

You should dress for the job you want, after all. If you wear the clothes of drudgery, expect drudgery. I refused to be at the bottom. I would not survive the shame.

Serbryakov, for his part, opted to just watch over me. I found a helmet, some flight goggles, and a flight jacket. It might not have Kevlar, which didn't exist yet, but I knew I would feel safer and could affect more of that confidence I valued in geniuses if I had a new "suit" for Nichts.

He thankfully stopped chaperoning me once I arrived back at my home. I thanked him. Even with a computation orb on my person, it was better not to deal with the unsavory types. These Ring Clubs were forming that had previously serviced the soldiers passing through, but sex trafficking had seen an uptick as there were plenty of women having to make do alone in the post-war period. Some became prostitutes out of desperation, but others had even less choice.

---

Serebryakov Residence - 2nd of November, 1933

Hate and spite had taken the world and driven it mad with violence that consumed so many lives. Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov was no exception. The other people in Berun were no exception. A brick had been tossed through their front window while they had been about to have lunch together as a family. There was a message on it in Germanian saying something along the lines of "Commies get lost".

"No," Visha whispered.

"Child, we must get into the bathroom away from the windows," her mother urged her daughter in Russy. The matriarch grabbed Visha's arm, trying vainly to get the young woman to move, but Visha's stance did not permit her to yield.

"No!" the daughter shouted. She pulled herself from her mother's grip and marched to the front door, where her father had stepped out to get a look at the perpetrators.

Visha picked up her father's antique foci from its hiding place and took the brink. She charged the building material in her hand with a sniping formula. It would not be powerful, but a brick could do enough damage to send a message.

The perpetrators had gotten back in their car and had just begun to accelerate away. One perpetrator even wore a worn-out infantry uniform.

Visha lifted her arm to throw, but her father attempted to restrain her arm. A gentleman and civilian like her father had no chance to hold her long. It was enough time, though, for the vandals to get away.

"Why are you letting them go?" Visha replied pointedly in Germanian. While she would still use Russy with her parents often, at times like this, she wanted to highlight her new nationality - her loyalty to the Fatherland for all to hear. "The communists wanted to kill us! I fought for this country. I killed countless Russy soldiers defending it. Why do I need to tolerate those bigots?!"

"Viktoriya, stop this now!" Her father attempted to slap her. He had had it with both her wilfulness and the way she now regularly emphasized how many Russy soldiers she had killed. Her attitude towards her ancestral land had soured from the sheer quantity of criticisms of the Reds from her former commander. Couple that with her biographical trauma, vaguely remembered from her childhood but supplemented with her parents' account of events, and Visha had gained a hatred for the communist incarnation of her homeland. Now, there was just the Fatherland in her heart.

Visha easily stopped his chastisement by simply grabbing his wrist the way her former commander had taught her.

He was no longer stronger than her. He did not get to punish his little child anymore whenever she wasn't being the perfect, obedient, and quiet noble girl, which she could never go back to being. He did not get to stop her. He had not earned the right. He had not fought in the war.

He thinks that Tanya is the perfect angel. The kind of girl he wished I was. Oh boy, how much I want to burst that bubble.

Thinking of her former commander, Visha recognized Tanya had transformed her into someone who did not bend to such feeble adversity as what her father brought forth. The blonde genius had treated every soldier as equal regardless of gender or ancestry. Everyone was defined by their strength, discipline, and competence. She had been remade through a baptism of blood, mud, and sweat on the battlefield into a Germanian soldier. People like those vandals and her father belonged to a universe where absolute nonsense ruled over the world.

A bitter feeling entered Visha's gut as her regret for her awful actions toward her decade-long commander started to come to the surface. She then renewed her focus on the now. The Visha of now was staring down her father.

Her father nursed his wrist as a spark of fear entered his eyes. "It will not end well if we antagonize them," he warned.

"What do you think my commander would have done if some idiot tried this with one of us?"

The fear grew in him. Visha could sense it. A predatory instinct took hold as she took a step forward. He took a few steps back. He was a gentleman, she very much wasn't. The cute, innocent Visha had died near the end of the war when their loss was inevitable. Her father did not comprehend that Tanya and Visha were professional killers who knew how to efficiently use violence for maximum but always purposeful effect.

He didn't respond, so she answered. "We had turned our own guns on our own if they tried to desert the front lines when we needed them to hold. No one has ever done something this foolish before."

She didn't think Tanya would actually kill someone for being a bigot, but she would have definitely filed paperwork to make their lives a living hell. Maybe she would send them to some bunker where they would die the moment enemy artillery got in range of the juicy, easily spotted target.

She waited for him to recompose himself enough to respond.

"The neighbors can hear you, Viktoriya."

"Do I look like I care or don't know that?"

"If you had hurt those men, you know what would have happened. I don't want to lose you."

He was right about the consequences, and that pissed her off even more. The law enforcement only saw a Russy. Their noble status afforded them some perks, but with the monarchy abolished in the aftermath of the war, gone too was the Kaiser's protection for the Russy nobility that fled into his country. It was not uncommon for thugs and even some police to make snide remarks about her family when they were out. If her family were hurt, the police ignored it. If a Russy like them dared to retaliate, the Russy in Berun all knew there would be trumped-up charges against them. No jury or judge would side with a Russy over a Germanian. Not after so many had died in the meat grinder of the Eastern Front.

Visha walked down the steps and stormed off towards a bar called the Charred Barrel, which she knew Elya frequented. Other veterans hung out there.

Her father and mother did not bother to stop her. Her display of effective aggression had cowed them.

The rest of the way to the Charred Barrel, Visha reflected on the past couple of months of doing marriage interviews with suitors from her social class. Visha found some of them quite fetching, but things had not been working out. Some men found her height, bearing, or personality unattractive, which further fueled Visha's father to try to steer her to an affected cute and sweet personality that played into the popular romantic fantasy of the time. She could be gentle, kind, and sweet, but not when she was angry, which had become more regular these days under her parent's care.

The suitors who took a keen interest in her bothered Visha for another reason. The tall brunette's skin crawled under her attention. This had been a problem she always had to a certain extent. She did not like sexual attention, which was awkward because she did like men and wanted a relationship with one like other married couples. If Visha could find a good man who was neither attracted to her like that nor offended by her Visha-ness, that would be her ideal.

It did not take her long to get to the Charred Barrel. Inside, male and female mages mingled like they did during the war. Visha stood out because she was in a dress. She actually liked dresses, but she didn't think they were very flattering on her. At least not the more traditional ones her parents bought her. Ironically, Tanya hated wearing dresses but looked beautiful in them — like a doll in some ways.

She quickly spotted Elya's dyed red hair. The pseudo redhead was in her favorite femme'd up pilot uniform and sitting in a booth with some new guy Visha did not know.

"You guys sound really strong," Elya complimented him. She had this affected dimness that really bothered Visha. Their old friend post-war friend circle struggled to tolerate the new Elya. "And four of you are capable of using dual cores? You must be smart. How did you get them? I have to know."

"Yeah, we are quite something," the man boasted. He had drunk himself a bit silly from the euphoria of having Elya inflicting so much focused attention on him and from the woman's frequent encouragement. The poor guy hadn't even eaten the food he had ordered. Elya had gotten him eating out of her hand like nothing.

"I shouldn't be saying this," the man answered after another draft from his beer glass. "But my group got us some old Type 97s from the warehouse down in the old Moabit. The Kaiser's Men, made up of some of the old palace honor guards, are giving them to people who join up. You also have to do a psych exam to prove that you will not abuse the power or something, but it is crazy they did not charge anything."

Visha remembered the Type 97 well. It was dual-core technology that gave the 203rd an advantage in the middle of the war before their enemies developed their dual-core computation orbs. It took a skilled mage to use the finicky Type 97, so if this guy and his friends could actually use them, they were at least competent.

"Hey, Michael, it is time to go," a random man shouted towards the guy across from Elya.

"But my cheese sausage!"

"Should have thought about that before you ordered, so stop talking to the dame before we all get fired for being late for our shift."

The dejected man surrendered his plate of freshly ordered Germania delicacy to Elya before apologizing apologetically. Once he left, Visha slid into his place and placed the brick on the table. Elya raised an eyebrow, noticing the bits of glass and the message on it, but did not question the building material. It should explain everything about the rage and annoyance emanating from Visha.

The tall woman glanced at the abandoned meal. After a gesture and a nod from her friend and no one seeming to care, the brunette dug into it.

"You're incorrigible, Visha," Elya muttered with a shake of her head. "Where does this appetite come from?"

The woman blinked. "Mmhmm, cough, 'a soldier's duty is to eat' and 'you never know when your next meal will be, so eat while you still can.'"

"Tanya?"

Visha frowned. She had hoped not to talk about her former commander. Her silence gave away the source of her quotation. Doing a Tanya impersonation out of habit did not do her many favors.

"Don't you normally eat with your family today?" Elya inquired.

The redhead's voice had dropped the previous bubbly affectation and now sounded painfully like the best friend VIsha had once known before the war. It was the voice Visha wanted to hear. Something familiar to anchor her psyche. The vapid flirt Elya, who had pissed the brunette off only moments ago, had become a person to whom Visha could vent. A part of the aerial mage noticed this shift, but Visha needed someone like the Germanian girl who befriended her at the boarding school right now. Her mind deluded itself that the Old Elya had not died in the war, just like the Old Visha.

Visha properly swallowed this time before speaking. Her manners had not completely eroded away during the war, regardless of what her father said. "I have finally told my dad off."

The brunette woman ordered a fresh glass of water to help clear her throat. Visha had always disliked the smell of alcohol for whatever reason. Also, she didn't have a lot of money.

Visha ordered her thoughts about what had just happened and waited for her drink. When it finally arrived, the tall brunette spilled her guts to her best friend. Elya, for her part, patiently listened to all her exhortations about everything her parents were doing wrong and how the worst suitor of the bunch thought it was appropriate to tell her how she should dress for him. Visha was very clear she did not want to change for anyone. If they didn't like her, that was their problem, not hers.

When it was all out of her system, Visha took a moment to get into the bar. What set the Charred Barrel as an arcanist bar was the prohibition against smoking. Aerial mages like Elya and Visha depended on their lungs to survive at high altitudes, even with magic assisting them. The military had forbidden mages from smoking to preserve the tactical advantage superior altitude provided. Also, Tanya had a strong dislike for smoking. She even claimed that it caused lung cancer, though she could not point to any evidence.

Visha trusted Tanya, though. The girl's alien mind always understood this insane world before anyone else.

"Radioing in Visha," Elya japed childishly. "Report back to the conversation at once."

The former asylum-seeking refugee squirmed a bit.

"Thinking about Tanya, hmmm?" the pseudo-redhead correctly guessed. It was a sensitive subject, and Elya knew it.

"No!" Visha replied a bit too loudly, earning them stares from other tables. "No."

Elya smiled wickedly, just like she had when gossiping with her as a teenager in the dorm rooms.

"You. Are. Lying." How that woman could just figure out anything about a person with no effort was beyond Visha. "You two were very close during the war. I get it. I really do. You care about her a lot. Just not, you know."

Elya rolled her hand in the air in a vague gesture that made perfect sense only to Visha.

"By the way, unrelated," the redhead said in a way that made it very clear the topic was actually, in fact, related. "A couple of nights ago, I went Mr. Degurechaff's place and showed him out to a club."

Mr. Degurechaff?

"I gave him your apology," Elya continued. "He goes by Mr. Weiss now. Adopted by you guys' vice commander. Anyway, he was so cute when we danced together. I got to feel what it was like to be you. Towering over my partner. It is actually quite an experience. Makes me feel powerful. I think I like it."

Visha's ears went bright red as she figured out her friend was referring to Tanya. Gendering the petite woman as a man was clever because it would not raise suspicion of homosexual behavior and amusing because Tanya was, underneath her calloused professional soldier exterior, a kind-hearted, peace-loving girl who acted so cute when she had a bit of chocolate. You could practically see flowers bloom behind her whenever she had her favorite treat. At least, that was Visha's thoughts on the matter.

"I am sure she, I mean he liked it," Visha stuttered.

"Immensely, unfortunately, in some regards. He was so desperate, and he would have said no to anything I asked. Part of me wishes I hadn't ever met him that day."

Visha choked for a moment.

"You aren't? Did you?"

"No, you know me, Visha," she answered. It sounded convincing, and Visha believed it because she knew this Elya. The Elya-before-Tanya was a different person. Visha did not know what that Elya would or wouldn't do. "I will admit, though, that I like being liked. I don't care by whom. There is a joy in having someone's undivided attention."

Elya stretched her arms as she said that last bit, and then the redhead pointed at her own brown eyes.

"His biggest issue at first was his eyes. For all his supposed discipline, his eyes struggled to maintain it. To be fair, I leaned into it. A people pleaser, that's me."

Visha furrowed her brow. This did not sit right with her. The New Elya flickered into the foreground, ruining the illusion. Is she trying to be honest through blatant dishonesty?

"Anyway," Elya continued. "I could tell Degurechaff wanted to be polite and respectful, but his gaze would be drawn like a moth to flame. He had to catch himself once or twice when we first met. I think the late bloomer is in the middle of the worst of it, unfortunately. It should calm down when it runs its course, and Degurechaff had already self-corrected significantly after getting out of the house some more when I talked to him yesterday evening. I think I also might have met him at a particularly bad time when we first met."

That explains why the others in the 203rd figured the lieutenant colonel's sexuality out, but it deepened Visha's discomfort and embarrassment. She felt dense. Why hadn't anyone told her? Why hadn't Tanya told her sooner? Was Tanya keeping other secrets from her?

"Why are you doing this to him?" Visha pivoted, trying to take back control of the conversation. "It is awful to manipulate people like this, especially if you are not sincere."

Elya sighed as sincere guilt flickered through her affectation. It was as if she had baited the hook with her choice of phrasing and framing to get Visha to confirm her guilt.

"What did you do during the war, Elya?" Visha had to ask. The tall woman knew her experiences had changed her, but her old friend's transformation did not resemble any of the other aerial mages Visha knew.

"And I can't tell you what I was up to, just like you can't tell me."

Visha sat on that. After chewing on some food for a while to process her feelings and clear her throat, the taller woman returned to the previous subject. "How bad is Degurechaff?"

"He is still hurting. The war hurt him. The Empire hurt him. You hurt him with how you treated him after rejecting him. It is a lot to be open to someone you think you trust, and they betray you. I know what that is like more than anyone. Frankly, he needs help and people at his side to process the war and all the shit that is going on right now and not to feel so alone. He might be an adult, but going through puberty just makes all of this far worse for him."

"Are you using him?"

"No," she answered in a way that clearly conveyed to Visha that Elya meant the opposite. "How I see it, if I need him, and we do, I am going to at least help him with that loneliness. Being in that flat all alone without feeling like he was allowed to go outside on his own was clearly hard on him. I am using what feels like a soft touch by my standards, and he needs that touch badly. You weren't wrong about the whole touch-starved thing. I didn't know it was possible to be like that. It is like he sees freedom he desperately needs in others and drinks it up through contact to soothe his caged soul."

It was a really odd way to put it, but Elya always had this very exacting way of describing people. Visha knew that she had felt something was off when she had attended to Tanya before the older woman had put a stop to it. When she held Tanya, Visha's mind had drifted towards a peace where they were free from that war, where they could stop fighting and move on to new things with all their brothers and sisters with them. Free to be the person you wanted to be without all these demands on you.

Peace was freedom like an impossibly large sky above every demand or an ocean beyond the reach of her parents. In every direction you went, nothing impeded your path. No parents held you back. No general staff were in this peace, issuing yet another.

Visha took a deep breath. If Elya was going to bait Visha into giving her a guilt trip, then the taller woman would reciprocate.

"Did he take my apology well?"

"Like anyone who received it from a middleman." Her friend's snappy reply came with the suddenness and sharpness of a hidden dagger. The pang of guilt it induced matched Visha's need to feel it perfectly. Elya's exacting insight had made her an excellent gift-giver before the war, but now her gifts served a different purpose. "If you want to make it better between the two of you, talk to him yourself. Be honest about what is still bothering you. I can tell you didn't tell me everything."

"Fine, fine, I will."

Elya took a deep breath. "So there is a job coming up. We need talented people like you. Don't ask questions until you meet up with the rest of the team. Let's just say a familiar face has asked us for help."

The taller woman didn't immediately respond. She was still reeling from the massive guilt trip.

"Hey," Elya added. "You obviously want some time away from your parents. You have a lot of pent-up aggression you want to get out, and what better way than to serve the Fatherland with your best friend? I will even make sure you meet with the Colonel and get to have a nice long chat about things. Namely, with you apologizing. He has already apologized enough to you for every real and imaginary thing he could have possibly done to deserve this."

Viktoriya knew she didn't want to go back home.

"When is your team meeting, and when are they being deployed?"

"This afternoon and every day until Sunday, the 5th of November."

"How soon do you head to this meeting today?"

"When you finish this meal. I made sure it wasn't far away."

---

Ten minutes later, in a cozy Ugar residence in Schöneburg district

Sonetto Esfahani went still. A very excited Herr Ugar's daughter next to her kept asking all sorts of questions about why her eyes glowed and how her magic worked. "Next to her", in this context, meant sitting about an inch from her, which was her primary source of stress.
(Reminder that Sonetto is not the 1950s Sonnetto.)

"Kakania, please give our guest some time and space to talk," Herr Ugar commanded between coughing fits. He laid back in a recliner. A glass of water on the nearby stand soothed his throat. It had run out as the man of the house finished the sentence.

Conscious of her father again, Kakania rushed off to the sink with the glass. Despite the intensity of her fixation on the "anomaly" that was the Ildoan-Tunisiyahan woman, the young teenager did want to be a good person. Her father assured Sonetto of this as his daughter did what she could for the dying man.

"She is an awful lot like Colonel Degure…Fraulein Tanya," Herr Ugar commented offhandedly.

The yellow-eyed woman did not know what to make of the comment. Tanya came across as a bit cynical, but she did not seem socially blind like Kakania. The blonde Germanian further developed an impression of carefulness with other people. She had once mispronounced Sonetto's surname and profusely apologized for it like she had committed some kind of relationship-ending mistake.

Is Tanya sensitive to rejection?

Herr Ugar chuckled at something he observed in Sonetto's expression and then hastily drank a bit of water as his daughter came back.

"Oh, they have differences," he commented as if having read her mind.

"Who has differences, Papi?"

"Oh, it is nothing, dear. Why don't you take a seat? This time a bit further from Fraulein Sonetto."

His daughter did as instructed but then started tapping her foot.

"No tapping, please, dear."

The girl picked up her legs and hugged them as she leaned against the arm of the couch. Sonetto found someone fifteen acting this way quite queer.

The father clearly loved his daughter dearly, but he confessed to Sonetto that he did not know how to help her. He wanted to set her up for success and saw these odd behaviors as a detriment to that. Ugar did not want other kids bullying her and wanted to make sure Kakania could be part of a polite society where so many doors would be open to her.

Turning his attention back to the Sonetto, Maximilian von Ugar addressed her again. "Sorry about that. You don't know Tanya very well, but I have been her friend since college."

The genius mage blinked her glowing eyes.

"Can you believe she was younger than Kakania here when she graduated near the top of her class from War College? She was one of the best of the best among Germanian officers. It is where she got her knighthood and the von in her name, as well as where we met."

Tanya's mysterious nobility, which her father did not have, did peak Sonetto's interest.

"Assume you have a question about your teammate regarding this upcoming operation?" Maximilian inquired, insightful as ever. Elya highly recommended him as a person who had a way with people.

"Is Tanya afraid of me?" Sonetto took the offered opportunity to help solve the puzzle that was this Germanian prodigy. "I mean that I hate her or something."

"To a degree. She has been a bit out of sorts, her former Vice Commander has told me. It took me longer to realize she was terrified of everyone to a degree. There was a time when she was afraid of me in a different way. She doesn't understand how you or I feel. Our responses to her actions, which she perceives as perfectly rational, confound her. Because she cannot predict what we will do, Tanya is plagued with fears about what we will do if she messes up. Sometimes, this is a panic attack over being sent to the firing squad for failing a mission. Sometimes, this is a ruthless removal of people she perceives as going after something she wants. Her father and I have been talking for a long time about what we can do for her."

But why does she think the world is so cutthroat? Why does anything less than perfect terrify her?

"Is there a way to assure her that if you are mad at her, you will let her know first before jumping to extremes?" She followed up. Sonetto had literally said as much to Tanya, but the woman did not stop being hyper-sensitive to anything, and her brain convinced her that it might be a mistake.

"I assume there has to be, but you are better off asking her father."

As Ugar took a break from talking, Sonetto glanced at the teenager on the other side of the coach. The girl looked all bottled up. The stress of doing nothing and people talking about things that did not interest her radiated off her.

While they waited for the others to arrive, Sonetto decided to engage in a topic that interested both Kakania and her but, importantly, was not specifically about her.

Formulae, the topic she chose, was something Sonetto could do like no one else. Numbers had a beauty, music, and, quite literally, a magic to them. Countless sequences and patterns made themselves known to her unique mind. In many ways, Sonetto saw the world as made up of numbers. As a young child, she could interact with these numbers to produce the effects of cantrips even without foci. It had terrified her parents at first, but then she became one of the gifted or virtuosos.

"Virtuoso" might sound nice, but it had caused Sonetto nothing but suffering. Those who celebrated geniuses did not know how alienating it can be. No sooner had she outshone her older brother than her brother started tormenting her. He had hated that she was better than him. He felt dumb next to her. Getting her to stop shining made him feel better.

Sonetto could not turn off the glow of her eyes, but she could become passive around him. Let him play the games while she just watched and not cry when he quit before she won. This understanding carried onto her social life. Anytime anyone called her smart, she would quickly assure them that "she was normal" or that "everyone has their talents".

Her experience with her brother made her feel like her talent made others feel bad. It taught her that she was vane and a braggart to take pride in anything she did well. Sonetto did not make friends as easily as her brother, and by just insisting that she was normal and carefully following his expectations for her, her brother just barely let her hang out with his plentiful friends.

Self-hatred only got worse as fascism rose in Ildoa. Sonetto was different in another way — her orientation. While Ildoa decriminalized homosexuality in 1890, the moral police made public admonishments and exiled this minority. This was what had ended Sonetto's once-promising prospect of being a mathematician. While her brother taught her to hate her talent, those who loved numbers gave her a place to be her full self. She thought it would be OK to be her even fuller self. Someone reported her to the moral police, and the young college woman found herself headed off for Berun, the place for "immoral" to find a new life.

Everyone knew Berun in Germania was one of the best places to find community and safety if you were a transsexual or homosexual. She did not know anywhere else to go. The war was over. Things just needed time to get started again.

One thing led to another, and Sonetto went to the Golden City club and met with the Scientific Humanitarians and various Friendship Associations. She delighted in all the little lesbian publications that Berun had. Nothing like this was in Ildoa, as far as she was aware, not that her friends in mathematics were particularly savvy.

There was a knock at the door.

"Me!" Kakania proclaimed.

Sonetto arched an eyebrow.

"That is her way of saying that she has the door," Ugar clarified. "Apparently, 'me' is just more efficient for her than 'got it'. Fraulein Tanya's conversation on business management had quite the impression on her, though I don't think my friend intended it to have this effect on my Kakania. I hope she grows out of it."

Tanya entered the living room with Kakania holding her hand like a child pulling her wagon. The blonde, for her part, did not seem at all annoyed. Tanya had brought a few notepads and an aerial mage duffel bag.

"What is in the bag?" Sonetto wondered.

"Oh, it is really nothing."

The yellow-eyed mathematician did not press further.

After pleasantries and light conversation, they all got to waiting for Elya and her mysterious last member of their team for the operation on behalf of Germania's law enforcement into a warehouse suspected to contain stolen computation orbs.

This is where Kaka—

Like clockwork, the young Ugar started flicking her hands as Tanya continued her performative small talk with her friend.

"Sweetie, you need to stop fidgeting, especially around guests."

The fifteen-year-old just struggled to co-exist in a world where other people gave each other social updates, discussed the weather, or lamented the food situation. Try as he might, Maximilian could force Kakania to do small talk. The girl hated it. When the stress with this sphere of social reality got to the teenager, the pattern-seeking Sonetto noticed that it inevitably resulted in the teenager tapping, rocking, or ringing out her hands. Each time it happened, her father told her to stop, which caused Kakania to become a ball of anxiety.

Tanya handed over some things to the younger teenager.

"This notebook contains my ideas about where magic is going. Would you like to review it? Feel free to edit it or write your thoughts in the margins. I also got you an older edition of the next year's textbook. I know you already finished the current year, so I thought you would get a head start. Don't worry about it not being the current edition. They don't change much between editions, I promise. I checked it, and it is still accurate for the most part. I inserted notes where the book is outdated."

Kakania took the offered stack of parchment and book with several slips of paper in it with gusto. The girl then twisted to the side and proceeded to use Tanya's shoulder as a backrest as she got started working. The two had taken to the couch perpendicular to the one Sonetto was on, leaving the 'mathemagician' comfortably with her personal bubble untrespassed.

The father was about to correct his daughter's behavior again, but Tanya interjected.

"It is quite alright," she claimed. "This is perfectly fine for me."

"She should still—"

"Have permission!" Kakania declared proudly.

Tanya nodded her confirmation. "It is so, Herr Ugar. As I see it, we should not impose what we would not like on other people. There is nothing harmful in her act if I am okay with it. If she is comfortable this way, then how is this any different than a hug or other more common social gesture? She is quite free-spirited. I think people should be able to go against the conventions of society, for that is what makes the innovations of our geniuses possible. It would be a shame to stifle that in her."

Sonetto gave her teammate a dubious look. The blonde veteran mage had a questionable parenting style. There was an agreement between Maximilian and the Weisses that Kakania would live with them after his passing, Sonnetto had been told. In her opinion, Matheus Weiss had the more common sense of the two Weisses.

Tanya's philosophy of general permissibility outside the most obvious guardrails made some sense to Sonetto, who had chaffed under harmful parenting practices of the time. The mathematician, however, thought that allowing a child to check out from social expectations to this extent might cause problems down the line. There had to be a Silver Mean between an excess of conformity and a deficit, just like the ancient philosopher had argued.

As Sonetto saw it, Kakania wouldn't have to just interact with Tanya in the future. She knew how reinforcing negative experiences could be in creating bad habits. She did not want Kakania to use her struggles with talking to strangers as a justification for not having meaningful conversations with anyone other than people as tolerant as Tanya.

Then there was the whole fact that Tanya also apparently had ungodly high standards. The homework Tanya assigned Kakania was not something most fifteen-year-olds would be expected to do. The veteran war mage had called it "cram school" with a look that blended nostalgia with vicarious pride.

While Sonetto had just met Tanya, the last couple of days had been extremely illuminating in terms of her teammate's character.

Sonetto sipped at her coffee and then traced the Zhangzi cup's circumference with her left index finger. Its excellent craftsmanship soothed the woman from Ildoa.

Kakania then started bragging to her father about how she was going to become a great scientist when she grew up and how Tanya would set up a job just for her. While the girl sounded excited, her enthusiasm contained a double sadness, Sonetto knew from Ugar's private admission.

The first sadness came from the death of Kakania's mother a couple of years ago, which her fathers would soon come in a few months. Maximilian had become part of the provisional government, handling law enforcement issues in the former Empire. Still, it was clear to his coworkers and family that work was something he could no longer do. Magical healing was what both his mother had needed and her father currently needed. At the same time, Kakania could not do magic like Sonetto or Tanya. The girl's obsession with all things arcane stemmed from the desperate desire to save their lives. A lot of her ideas may seem to be cool gadgets, but underneath lay a view that magic should help people.

The second came from a feeling of powerlessness. The world swirled around Kakania, doing what it willed, and it only seemed like the mages could fly above it. By diving into Tanya and Sonetto's experiences, Kakania had claimed a vicarious sense of that power. The girl wanted to be helpful, to be part of the world of magic where no one got sick, and the impossible became possible.

Another knock came to the door.

"Me!"

Soon, Elya came into the living room with a brunette stranger with her. The newcomer was quite tall for a woman. She had apparent Russy features and a warrior's edge lurking behind her otherwise peaceful expression.

"This is—" The redhead began.

"Tanya!" the Russy interjected. "Why is she here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You need to talk to her. You want to talk to her. I need you on this team."

"Elya, not this again. What has gotten into you? You never were like this when we were kids. Why do you think you can set me up like this? You keep doing this to me and your friends since the war ended. Everyone has had it with you."

Sonetto reeled from the frantic, barely contained rage that bubbled out of the still-unnamed brunette.

Tanya just excused herself to go to the bathroom, hiding her face in her hands and taking her duffel bag with her.

---

"Freedom (noun):..."

They kept arguing outside. I could no longer hear those two anymore. I unzipped my bag. While I did not expect to see her yet, Nichts had another purpose other than to make the ideal mercenary for law enforcement. Now, I had a chance to impress her with a version of me that would not cause problems for us.

"To ask Nichts."

I took the goggles and placed them over my eyes. I wanted people to ask for me again, just like before.

"To expect Nichts."

I lifted the helmet and placed it upon my head, tucking in my hair carefully so as to not let anything out. I wanted people to expect me to be there. For my enemies to fear me but for my allies to know I would be coming to their aid.

"To depend on Nichts."

Finally, I lifted up the slightly too-large mantle. It contained my body and obscured my form. I wanted people to depend on me.

Agent Nichts adjusted her collar and inspected her appearance.

She looked composed.

A practiced smile effortlessly came to her face as the mercenary left the bathroom.

Serebryakov never has to deal with the Tanya with a bleeding heart again. I am the only one who understands how to maintain a professional work relationship and has no need for anyone else. They can trust me. I am free of everything unnecessary. I am Nothing; I am Nichts.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - May 26th, 1950

Father Rivera walked discreetly back to the church. The moon cast long shadows that night. The forest had gone entirely silent, and fear ran up and down his back.

The sound of something heavy flapping hit the ground.

"Who's there?" he called out. His eyes darted, but whatever it was always stayed just out of view.

A guttural, bestial growl encircled the clergyman in response.

Father Rivera held up a holy cross out at the creature of shadows. The cross' diagonal bars should draw on the power of the Lord, according to his faith. The church had entrusted the relic to him by the church to protect him in this land that did not accept the light of the Universalist faith.

"Begone, foul demon, for I am a man of the Lord."

"We both know that isn't true, Father."

The man stumbled as he took a step back. The animalistic voice sounded next to him, but it was just too dark for his old eyes.

"Oh, how you preached about love this Sunday. I heard all of it."

It…no, this person could speak, so they must have intelligence. He would try to reason with it.

"If you are part of my congregation, then why are you doing this? If you need—"

"I don't need anything from you."

"Then leave me alone!" He shouted, turning around and running towards the church as quickly as possible.

"You used her, but she loved you, didn't she?"

As he turned the corner, Rivera leaped at the fence of the graveyard next to the place of worship. His cross fell to the ground, abandoned there in his moment of fear.

Something like a lizard's tail whacked him in the side, knocking him to his knees before he could get to the other side of the fence. Rivera got up and slowly limped as he tried to find an out before he got cornered.

"Lord, if this your punishment for my sin, please forgive me. I implore you."

"It is far too late for that, Father. Your god is gone, but I am here."

Rivera gulped, but he would do anything to avoid the fate this monster promised him by finding him. The villagers spoke of a creature of darkness called Destripadora. The townsfolk said the creature just ate the livestock and tormented sinners who went into the forest at night or got too close to its lair.

"Destripadora, please, forgive me. I am but a humble man of the —"

An enraged snarl trapped the rest of his words in his mouth. Destripadora finally stepped into the light. They were no longer in every shadow, ready to pounce at him, but right there.

Rivera turned to look at his pursuer. He saw they wore a dark cloak, obscuring most of their face. Two orbs of pinkish-purple light acted as the demonic eyes. Glowing purple lines vertically crossed its face vertically, and despite its heavy cloak, a glyph on the creature's forearm emanated more of their sickening glow.

Its reddish-orange tail, a product of Andean sorcery, peaked out from his pursuer's cloak. Yellow lines went down its surface, which dimly glowed as it seemed to grow and shrink at will.

Destripadora, commissioned from Sasika Guruge​

"She beseeched the Lord as you led that mob to burn down her village," Destripadora testified. Their voice was now drenched in equal parts contempt and fondness, like they were talking to a lover who had betrayed them. "She called out to you as you had your congregation burn her at the stake for 'witchcraft'."

As the person got within a few meters, Rivera made a break for it, yet no matter how hard he pushed his body, Destripadora only got closer. He could even feel this immense supernatural aura weighing down on him and making it hard to breathe. His consciousness started to dim.

"You are far too learned to call the ways of her people witchcraft, Father."

Before he could faint, Destripadora lashed out at him. Their arm, small at first, transformed into a bestial claw that raked his back, shredding clothes and flesh. It was another instance of Andean witchcraft. He knew a few sorcerers and witches had been saved from the fire. Those who loyally attended his congregation and stayed out of the mob's way. The woman he was to meet was among them.

Adrenaline spiked through him as he fell to the ground. He feebly crawled up the steps of the church's entrance. He screamed, but no one came to save him. Why would they? He had made sure no one would disturb him that night as he found a new loving and vulnerable heart in his congregation to keep him company that night.

That person never showed up. He had even gone to her home, but she wasn't there.

Destripadora pulled out a wicked blade that seemed to bend its point toward his heart. No one had mentioned the prowler of the forest had a blade like that. Had they not really seen them, or was the weapon brought out just for him?

"You taught your congregant to feel guilt. And so many things to feel guilty for, too. Lust, greed, violent thoughts, hate? All are in you in your heart in spades. I can smell it. Strange that somehow coming to you is the only cure for this pain you instilled in your flock for feelings and thoughts everyone has. That is how you got your hooks in her."

They stabbed him. Blood filled his mouth, silencing his screams. Rivera couldn't help but think that if the woman who had asked for him to bring the relic were there, she could have saved him even then.

"As she came to you desperate to be rid of these guilts, you took her to your private chambers and showed her a love very unlike the one you gave your congregants during the day. Then, her brother discovered your scheme. Just like with the other obstacles to the schemes you faced among the clergy in the past, you had to get them out of the way. This time, you picked violence.

"Suddenly, your sermon went from loving others to the need to purge the evils lurking in the forest and the ungodly sorcery of witches. You pushed out or denounced any of the church leadership who spoke out against you and made the rest of your congregants deaf to the truths of those who threatened your game."

They stabbed him again. His vision started to fade as his blood pressure began to decrease from the wound to his most vital organ.

"When the deed was finally done, the ashes of her had not yet been washed from your beard before you went to the next lost soul desperate for love and an end to all this strife in her heart whom you had been cultivating behind the back of your previous victim. Did her body excite you as you kept that love ever out of reach? Did you enjoy it as you plagued her with even more strife in her heart? Did you know you tore her apart?"

Destripadora leaned down until their head was level with his and breathed in the scent of his hate. She then chuckled darkly.

"Now you will die, still unwashed of your sins, you disgusting man."

It continued its horrible cackle filled with that loving contempt for him as they stabbed one final time, and the world of the living was forever gone for him.

---

Berun Interpol HQ - April 16th, 1950

The martial artist Agent Fang had gone to the funeral for her supposed death. Despite it being a solemn occasion, he met so many people from Tanya's life, including the people she worked with in her first team, Interpol. He and Sonnetto really enjoyed the stories from Mrs. Serebryakov, who came with her three kids and husband. Fang got a feeling there was unspoken tension between the couple but only wanted to hear war stories.

Serebrykov could not tell them much due to confidentiality in military matters. The generalities were more than enough to pull the young man into the intense world of the Great War. Fang had admitted his jealousy not having been there, not to see heroics, but to hone his skills on an unrelenting battlefield. His romanticization of war resulted in a grave reprimand from his elder mage, saying that thinking fondly of war only brought it to your doorstep. It was like a curse you brought into being with your evil thoughts.

Fang could tell all the Germanians, not just the Serbryakov, feared another global war. Agent U had fallen into a particularly gloomy mood, sharing that Tanya, all alone with Matheus effectively incapacitated, had raised her from the age of sixteen to adulthood and assisted throughout the whole higher education for TU Wien. Agent U's brief descriptions of Germania after the war had helped Fang understand his colleagues' perspectives. Even after the Unified States had taken the capital of the Aztec Empire in only thirty-five days with magic-compatible mechanized units, the Europeans still refused to conscience another global conflict despite one becoming inevitable, in Fang's opinion.

Masquerade also gave Fang his opinion of the coming conflict. He sympathized more with the socialist and communist worldview due to his on-again, off-again relationship with the terrifying former Angel Jane Forger. (Currently, they were on-again, Fang discovered.) He agreed with much of their diagnosis of the causes behind world events but disagreed with their prescriptions.

According to the thespian, the ones who had come out the furthest ahead after the Great War were the Unified States, which not only avoided being bombed to rubble being an ocean away but also had invested heavily in their industrial sector during the conflict. The Europeans were more dependent on American agriculture and industry than ever immediately after the war, and the Unified States had made sure to lock in that dependence. Unified States even leveraged that dependence to "assist" the European powers in policing their colonies in an effort to keep those regions producing for capital interests in Europa and the Unified States, which used those regions for labor-intensive products and natural resources.

As Masquerade said, the question wasn't why the Americans would instigate another global war but rather why they wouldn't. They benefited so much from the last one. Now, they were more powerful than ever.

The cultivator from Zhangzi could see that Tanya's "death" made all of this even worse. The blonde Mandate holder had been Germania's lodestar through the Great War, making conditional surrender possible in their eyes. Without her, could they even survive another conflict? Ildoa, Ispagna, and the Akitsuhima Dominion had already allied themselves with the Unified States. The Allied Kingdom and the Francois Republic were considering it. Germania would be stuck between the Russy Federation and their increasingly fascist-complicit neighbors in Europa.

Fang could not blame the Germanians. It was the job of a Mandate to lead those drawn to their flame to victory. Her loss was extended to the domain of her duality's influence. Those Mandate holders were destined to get into conflict, and those who felt the sway of the duality would follow suit.

However, Tanya wasn't dead, and the global conflict was still some way off. There was a more pressing source of conflict and shifts in the power dynamics of the Mages of Interpol 15.

They were all sitting in Senior Officer Armstrong's office.

"You are going to have to step down from being captain, Weiss. We have a lot of pressure after the Dzayer case. You did what you were sent out to do, but there are questions about your leadership, especially around your refusal to recuse."

"There were extenuating circumstances!"

Armstrong sighed.

"We all know that, but it is the optics. Interpol is in a difficult position now, and everyone is wondering whose side we really are on."

"Sir, we aren't on anyone's side."

"Weiss, your comments about the Russy Federation that the inquiry's picked up say otherwise. I fought for you, and I really did, but I can't wipe what you said on record during the inquiries. This situation will only be temporary until things get better with the higher-ups at the League. What we need now, for the time being, is someone without a lot of history to take up leadership for MI15."

"Like who?" Fang inquired on behalf of his team.

"Sonnetto," Armstrong stated.

Fang blinked.

All of the homunculus' teammates, besides Calamity, who barely understood any of this, leaned forward to look at her. She tapped her forearm, activating the more efficient alchemical thought-to-speech spell Mk. 2 (Agent U's patent is still pending).

"It is due to seniority. With this new spell, I can call shots, and who better to call the shots than Agent Nichts' duo partner."

While Sonnetto was no empress like Tanya should be, in Fang's opinion, the crimson-eyed officer did know quite well how to hold herself in positions of authority. Her voice had a refinement to it that quirked Fang's interest.

"It isn't all bad news for you, Officer Weiss," their superior placated. "Your 'workacation' around the world has been approved."

Mrs. Serebryakov was right! Fang exclaimed in his thoughts. Even thinking about things can make them happen. This new ability is awesome.

"Elya insists your team accepts it," Armstrong continued. "Captain Sonnetto?"

The woman switched back to sign language and let her now subordinate Weiss translate. "This is the first I have heard of it."

"I believe your housemate said something about hitting four birds with one stone."

"Which are?" Sonnetto's hand conveyed she felt dubious about all of this. Her face was a hard read, but Fang had discovered that Sonnetto and others who utilized sign language tended towards bluntness about how they felt in Germania.

Weiss squirmed a bit, and now all the eyes were on her. Taking a deep breath and pulling down the lip of her fedora, the blonde gave a speech like she was addressing her troops before battle.

"Okay, listen up, team. We are about to embark on a trip that will accomplish multiple objectives for our team's continuing education requirements. First, we need broader exposure to different schools of magic so that we may more effectively counter it in the field. The world is rapidly becoming more global, and so is magic. We cannot isolate our mindsets to this continent. That is why I selected three different locations where different forms of magic are performed.

"Second, this will give us valuable experience working with Interpol officers from around the world. We will be working with the local MI team at each location, assisting them with their caseload for two weeks. As the world becomes more polarized, it is essential that we, mages of Interpol, stand together. We are the last line of defense against those who would use their magic to destroy our peace. We do not have time to be fighting each other or even struggling to communicate.

"Third, MI15 probably should give the continent a break from us. We cannot afford another scandal. The trip is planned to take eighty days exactly before we have finished circumnavigating the globe."

Then she just stopped talking.

Sonnetto signed something, but Weiss did not translate this time. The not-dead officer did sign something back to her housemate, though. As they went into a semi-private conversation, Masquerade must have picked up enough to be known to look away.

"Perhaps you two should take this conversation elsewhere," Armstrong suggested.

---

In Tanya's Sonnetto's Office

"You thought a workcation would be a good substitute for a vacation?" Sonnetto groaned in sign language. "Tanya, you are incorrigible."

They had gone into Tanya's—Sonnetto's office to finish their conversation.

"I am sorry!"

"Will we at least go on a real vacation when this is all over?"

"Okay! I promise that when we get back, I will take time off. You can personally ensure I can't go back to the office."

"Thanks. So where are we going first on this workcation around the world?"

---

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - May 29th, 1950

"Welcome to La Cumbrecita, my friends," said the leader of the mages of Interpol 54.

"Happy to be here, Captain Rodríguez," Calamity Amb replied in Ispagnish. It was a rare moment where she had an advantage over most of her teammates when it came to communicating. Being from Tejas, she had a lot more need to know the romance language than Germania. Masquerade and Agent Nichts also knew the language.

Calamity sipped her hot cocoa as she looked around at the immense forest surrounding them. It was wintertime in South America, and this place was thankfully mild during its colder months. A cabin had been provided to them in which to stay. While the flora was different, she had seen countless picturesque vistas like this in Happalachia, from the soft rolling mountains to the homes among the trees.

What would have made the view more scenic would have been if the town had not cleared large swaths of trees to build the town further. The smoke from the controlled burning has a stench in the air that Calamity Amb could not ignore.

She was still happy to get some time to relax. They had docked in the Río de la Plata yesterday and then flown inland for several hours until they reached the previously decided meeting place in La Cumbrecita. The town was convenient for the tasks MI15 would be assisting this South American branch.

"We have two cases for you to help us on today," the captain got started. "The first case involves the Sanchez Cartel. Their leader is Dario Sanchez, and we received a tip that he might be working with the Silver Legion and the Falange to undermine stability in Argentum. Doctor Khuyana González will lead this case. She is a medical professional and a magical healer. Her plant-based spellcraft will serve as a great introduction to South American magical arts. While she lacks offensive spells due to her deeply held beliefs, her healing magic is par none. Those working with her will be investigating one of Sanchez's Kola factories for any signs of criminal activity, so we will conduct a more thorough investigation later to find these lies."

Doctor González was a woman of middling height with chin-length black hair that she had spiked up. She had a plain tan collared shirt, dark green pants, and a brown satchel. Calamity thought she was relatively quiet and reserved. Surprisingly, Fang quickly joined her team. Agent Nichts and Captain Sonnetto followed suit.

"Second, we have had a killer on the loose. Mages in the town sensed a magical anomaly last night, so we have gotten involved. The townsfolk claim the murderer is an evil spiritual beast, which they call Destripadora in Ispagna or Awqa in Quechua. Doctor Harrison Jones will lead that case. He has a doctorate in archeology from the University of Hindiana in the Unified States and is familiar with ancient legends and magical artifacts. You are to assist him in uncovering the identity and apprehending the killer."

Doctor Jones had a five-o'clock shadow, a wide-brimmed fedora, and an A-2 jacket. Agent Masquerade and Agent Calamity paired up with him. Not only did the archeologist speak Albish, but he also had countless stories about his adventures in finding magical artifacts across the globe, which they had found out during the icebreaker last evening.

With the teams settled, the two groups set out. They were "burning valuable daylight" standing around the cabin, as Agent Nichts would say.

---

Paso del Diablo, Confederacy of Greater Andea - near the border with Aztec Empire - May 30th, 1950

Captain Sonnetto flew with the team over the mountain-side trial of Paso del Diablo. She couldn't help but think that it would have been nice if she and Tanya were walking the path together. While the path looked vertigo-inducing, mages tended to develop a fondness for heights the more they flew.

Doctor González, or rather Khuyana, as she insisted they call her, mostly kept discussing the mission for the first day of travel. Despite Khuyaya's sweet aura and reserved attitude, Tanya seemed drawn toward and even flew side-by-side with the South American mage. Fang, riding his flying nimbus, looked giddy as a schoolgirl watching the two quietly bond over their journey as if he knew something was going to happen between them. That just made the crimson-eyed officer more annoyed with the situation.

The two had just met! How is it so easy for Khuyana to get Tanya, who is in her alter ego, just to calm down and lower her walls like this?

Sonnetto caught herself glaring at their temporary teammate, quashing feelings of jealousy. What made Tanya look past her and to other people? Was it her appearance? Tanya would not want her housemate changing her appearance for the blonde's sake.

Was it because they were coworkers? Long-lived mages strongly tended to pair together, and Interpol had plenty of such couples despite the tensions it created. Given the tiny world of the eternally young, it was not practical to forbid their relationships. It was just understandable that you would want to partner with someone who matched your lifespan in some way.

Khuyana seemed to notice Sonnetto's mild ire because she gave Sonnetto a placating look before adding some distance between herself and Tanya. This symbolic olive branch also brought an end to the surprisingly energized and one-sided conversation Tanya (as Agent Nichts) had with the spikey-haired officer.

Sonnetto sighed internally. She felt guilty about getting jealous. Tanya was not the only one not acting their usual self today.

The alchemical officer tapped her arm, activating the spell which allowed her to speak. It wasn't perfect still, but it allowed her to communicate with more than contextual beeps during flights where sign language was impractical. They would still need to use those beeps in a firefight because her hands wouldn't be available to activate the spell, which required her to touch it with her hand.

"Agent Nichts, what is our ETA?"

The helmeted officer lifted her computation orb, which depicted a map of the region. "We should be arriving in one hour, Captain."

"I would like to ask Khuyana about how her magic works."

From what Sonnetto could see, the officer from Argentum flew without the assistance of a magical cloud, computation orb, or alchemy. They were supposed to learn more about this magic, and this piqued the white-haired woman's curiosity.

Tanya acted as the translator between the two.

"We draw our spells from our gardens," Khuyana answered. Her voice was a bit on the deep side and quite soothing. "We have special seeds that we slowly coax into storing the formula for each spell we want to cast. By connecting our soul to that plant, we can utilize the spell it grants."

"That must take a long time to cultivate your spell arsenal."

"It does. Sometimes, it takes decades for some of the more powerful spells, and while we can give seeds with the formulae we have created to other mages, we can't draw power from each other's gardens."

"What prevents you from just growing a forest of spells?"

"There really isn't much point. It takes such a long time and so much of your attention to raise each plant to maturity that you wouldn't be doing anything else. Some do this, of course, finding joy in gardening and sharing their creations with others, but most of us keep modest gardens with one or two copies of each spell we need, much like computation orbs do."

"What happens if a plant in your garden dies or someone kills one of your plants?"

Khuyana rubbed her x-shaped rosary in stress. "Well, the plants won't die of old age until the caster dies. If someone goes into their garden and deliberately kills their plants, not only do we lose access to that spell, but we suffer as if a part of ourselves just died."

Sonnetto wanted to drop the subject there as the officer from Argentum had gotten sullen all of a sudden, but Fang pressed further, seemingly oblivious.

"So your gardens must be pretty vulnerable?" he asked.

"They are our most personal sanctuary. We do not let others cross into it lightly, even just to appreciate our many flowers. Not every plant is beautiful either, but each is a piece of ourselves. Even if someone does invade it with the intent to destroy our garden, we still have ways to protect it."

"Okay, I think that is enough questions," Sonnetto announced. Khuyana's mood had only gotten worse. Captain Rodríguez had told them that a mob from La Cumbrecita had burned down a nearby village to rid it of 'witchcraft'. Khuyana had not taken it well when she found out about it. The loss of homes was terrible enough. Sonnetto knew what it was like to see villages put to the torch during Alexander Magnus' conquest of Persia, but she could not imagine what it would feel like for a mage like Khuyana to have their entire garden burned down.

The South American, however, decided to share a bit more of her thoughts.

"Many illnesses are linked to the sins trapped within our hearts," Khuyana explained, watching Agent Nichts closely as the blonde monitored the map for their navigation and continued to translate. "We can cure them through the act of confession, but that is just treating the symptoms, not the true disease — the strife that lies within the heart of each person. It has long been my greatest aspiration to find a cure for this evil. Imagine no longer feeling jealousy, hate, or greed. It would not only be the greatest accomplishment in all of medical science but could bring about world peace. Sadly, all I have found is a failure on that front."

"I don't think you can remove duality from the world," Fang shared. "In all that is good is evil, and all that is evil is good. To forget that is to be blinded to our own flaws or, in some cases, our own virtues. One that we know quite well in our work is strength and weakness. Inside strength is the weakness of excessive force, and inside weakness is the strength of gentleness. As my master taught me, nothing is without its opposite, not in the world or ourselves, and to eliminate all evil truly, one would have to destroy everything."

"What about pain and suffering?" the Andean mage followed up.

"In pain is knowledge and an opportunity to improve. Pain is a teacher, and when experienced in its proper time and place, much like shame, it can steer us from vice. We are warriors, so we know of pain.

"As for suffering," the young man continued. "Suffering is a kind of nothing, no offense Nichts."

"...None taken, Agent."

Clearing his throat, Fang finished explaining. "The absence of connection is the suffering of loneliness. Of feeling, numbness. Of sustenance, starvation. So on and so forth."

Sonnetto decided to pipe in as something came to mind. "You can have too much of something too. I met… a man once who believed there was a Silver Mean between two vices — one of excess and one of a deficit."

"So, like in medicine," Khuyana added. "Too much can be a poison, and too little is impotent. If you get the dose just right, you can create a cure."

"Wisdom and the ability to balance, perhaps that is the real good," Fang mused. "And true evil is in the imbalance."

They continue to discuss less philosophical subjects for the rest of their journey.

As they flew over the beautiful landscape, the new captain of MI15 wondered how the two Albish-speaking members of their team were doing back in La Cumbrecita.

---

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - May 30th, 1950

Agent Masquerade guarded his eyes as the noonday sun reflected off the snowy rooves of the house, temporarily blinding him.

They had gotten only a little headway on the case. The locals did not have much more than what Captain Rodríguez had told them. Monster, in the night, and prowls were all things they already kind of knew about the killer of Father Rivera, the town's priest of the Universalist Faith. What they did not know was that this monster had been haunting the village for some time, coming only out at night. It had apparently killed and eaten some alpacas and goats. The local mages explained that they could not properly read the full mana signature.

"I think we should go back to the murder scene of our late clergyman," Doctor Jones told the team.

Masquerade liked the vibe he got from the man. The stories about punching Imperials in the face to escape when Jones had gotten captured during the Great War and getting into raucous bar fights in Casablanca just oozed B-movie energy the thespian just had to appreciate. While Jones did not go looking for a fight, it seemed the man had a way of walking into them.

Once they arrived at the scene of the crime, the archeologist pulled out a ruby with silver filigree.

"Well, I think it is time I show you how I investigate crimes," Doctor Jones declared as he put some mana into the strange object. "This artifact was lent to me for my officer work. It allows the caster to make mana visible temporarily. This device normally would only pick up where spells were cast recently."

"But if Destripadora is constantly emanating its mana like the townsfolk say, then this here doohicky will lead us straight to her!" Agent Calamity exclaimed. "That's some smart thinking, partner. How does it work exactly?"

As if to answer her, a light emanated from the gem as if it were an electric torch. The device revealed twin misty trails of purple and orange mana particles that were too fine for a mage to sense.

"Was Father Rivera a mage?" Masquerade inquired.

"Not as far as I am aware."

"Then were there two killers?" the thespian followed up.

Calamity knelt by the mana mists. "By the looks of it, the orange one must have been a dog, given how low to the ground it is. Maybe there really is a magical beast involved, explaining all the animals that died."

"We will find out," Officer Jones added, turning the light towards the insane path Destripadora had taken last night. "Anything could happen. It's a long way to the perp."

They followed the path until they spotted a cross on the ground. After giving it a look, Doctor Jones waved the church staff who were staying out of their way to take it.

"Isn't that important evidence?" Masquerade questioned.

"That cross is an important artifact," the archeologist explained. "It belongs with the church even if it might help us with the case."

The dapper Albish officer could understand that.

At least he didn't say it belonged in a museum. I don't want to deal with the Angels anytime soon.

Once they finally got out of town, they flew low over the impossibly windy path of this prowler in the night as the gem led them to it. Masquerade knew at least that the other team didn't have to follow a route full of neck-breaking turns to find their target of investigation.

---

Kola Factory, Confederacy of Greater Andea - near the border with Aztec Empire - May 30th, 1950

It had been a long boat trip to South America and then to the factory.

The trip had only started off as a pain, with the Germanian mage travel authority telling me they could not find my record under Tanya von Weiss. They insisted that even if I had "died", they would still have me. The staff asked if I had a maiden name or another name I had gone by. I let them know Degurechaff worked, which required me to get my old identifying documents. I kept it locked away in a safe deposit box at the bank, along with my old medals and most of my old photos.

I had gotten visas before without any trouble under von Weiss, so something had happened pretty recently. I had asked what had caused the change. The record apparently said something about a correction memo from the Germanian Federal Central Tax office. Unfortunately, I didn't have any more time to delve into that before our trip, so I had Matheus and my accountant look into it on my behalf.

I internally groaned as we landed outside the Kola factory. My mind still raged as this brought to mind several frustrations. Not only did the Francois take my pensions, but they unleashed the greatest evil in the world upon us Germanians — Income Tax. Our government had no choice but to stoop to looting from their people to pay those damned reparations. Despite the fact that the debt was paid to those sore winners, we still have that governmental skullduggery.

Well, I have paid every last Mark I owed and not a Mark more. I triple-checked all my returns with an accountant. There shouldn't have been any issues. I will have to wait until I can send a telegram to Matheus and get an update. Anything involving taxes is too stressful. If they went ahead and decided now, after more than a decade, that my paperwork for my adoption wasn't valid, that could cause me more than a few problems, given Mary Sue suspected the name Degurechaff as possibly the Devil of the Rhine. I was more than a little worried, but I had to stay calm and trust that my allies could manage while I had this trip.

Finally, putting that out of my mind, I pulled out our warrant to check the Sanchez's Kola factory.

"El Jefe, Interpol is here!" called out the factory manager who had met us.

"Bring them in. I am expecting them."

We walked in through the garage door into the mixing facility. The smell of chemicals and sugars filled my nose as I took in the wonders of industry happening around me. The Kola Factory was this world's equivalent of the Coca-Cola company, I was sure. I highly doubted they had anything to do with espionage efforts in South America.

A tall man came down a metal, grated staircase to meet us. He had black hair and wore a black suit with a pink undershirt. Subtle cresses lined his brow, and the dark roots of his facial hair colored the lower half of his face.

"It is nice to meet you all," he greeted us. "I am Dario Sanchez, owner of this company. I am sorry that you went all this way for nothing. I would be more accommodating, but you understand that stopping production for this inspection costs us dearly. We would like to get this finished as soon as possible. Let us have a quick drink in my office so you can see for yourselves the quality of the product we are creating here. Hopefully, that will assuage your worries."

I sympathized. No one likes an inspection, announced or unannounced.

We followed the businessman up the stairs and across the catwalks above the mixing vat for the caffeinated beverages. Khuyana sniffed the air and furrowed her brow. It was just a drink, but maybe she was unfamiliar with it. In a decade or two, though, it would be one of the most popular drinks in the entire world if my past life taught me anything. Our case leader would get used to it in time.

If there was anything odd about the factory, it was the shark tank near the CEO's office. Sonnetto grabbed my arm as we neared it. Did she think I was going to jump in it or something?

"I must ask why the sharks, Señor Sanchez?" I inquired.

"Agent Nichts, can't a man have his hobbies?" the man countered as he went to an ice chest to fetch a steak and toss it into the water. "These darlings are some of my prized possessions."

The sharks ravenously fought for the meat instantly as their instincts drove them into a frenzy. Khuyana stroked her rosary again as if it would actually help her. Sometimes, I wished I could explain how this world was long abandoned, but there was no way I could prove such a claim.

There was no law against owning sharks, so far, be it for me questioning a genius or whatever passions help him innovate.

We entered his office, where we sat at a large table. Three of his managers came in with us, standing behind us. I took a seat first, and Sonnetto quickly took the middle one, leaving our case leader on the other side of her.

He poured each of us a glass of his Kola product. Sonnetto denied it due to her dietary restrictions. I was about to take some. It had been too long since I had tasted Kola.

Khuyana motioned me to stop me for some reason. Taking a moment to order her thoughts, the reserved officer spoke.

"May we see where you store your ingredients?"

"They aren't poisoned if you are worried," Sanchez replied. He motioned to one of his managers to drink from Agent Khuyana's cup. Then, a new one was provided for her.

She looked at the cup for a few moments, bringing it up to her mouth but not drinking it. She put the drink down and then addressed the CEO again. "I must insist, Señor."

The man sighed, and we all got up and followed the man back into the factory. Despite the staff of the factory being on the light side today, it felt kind of crowded. They followed and watched us carefully and moved next to crates with tarps over them here and there. Sonnetto and Khuyana shared a look with each other and then looked at me. I shrugged. What was bothering them? Weren't we all just getting along splendidly?

Sonnetto pointed at her tattoo with her grenade-firing rifle in it. I blinked in confusion. My head hurt as I tried to think what this meant, but it was like a partition had formed inside my head. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't understand why my captain and our case leader were so tense.

We eventually got to see where the ingredients were stored. There were kola nuts, which gave the drink its caffeine; caramel extract, which gave it its color; and sugarcane, which was the preservative and sweetener of choice in the Americas and Europa.

This display did not satisfy Agent Khuyana, who kept forging ahead. She did not explain to any of us what she expected. The air got tense as she got to the garages where incoming raw materials come in.

There, she knelt and found a green leaf on the ground and a few dried-up ones in a place the cleaners must have missed. The workers on the catwalks still watched us intently, waiting for us to leave so they could continue their work.

Captain Sonnetto signaled for Khuyana to wait for some reason. We three moved a bit further until we were near the garage doors again and some barrels. Only then did Khuyana address the business owner who had let the distance grow between us? His three managers and twelve employees with hands in their work overalls stood around him. Sonnetto stared at me with deep concern and placed my hand on my dual-core.

"Why are coca leaves in your plant, Señor Sanchez?" she inquired. I kept up translating for Captain Sonnetto. I just assumed that coca was a made-up part of the drink from my prior life. Now I thought about it more: there were kola nuts in the drink. It made sense that coca would be in it, too.

I admit I was no herbalist or medical professional, so I did not really know what the big deal was. All I could do was trust that our temporary teammate knew what she was doing.

Sanchez frowned and rubbed his chin. "You know how the employees can get after a long day of work. I assume some of them must have brought some to chew on."

"That would be legal use, but that doesn't explain the coca scent coming from your product and this entire factory."

Wasn't that just what Coca-Cola, or rather Sanchez's Kola, smelled like? Why was Agent Sonnetto looking so concerned?

The setting sun cast a long shadow upon Sanchez's face as the CEO sighed. "You are too smart for your own good, Agent Khuyana?"

Before I knew what I was doing, my body lept to cover to avoid potential anti-barrier ammunition and pulled up my barrier. A firefight broke out, and my mind just did not seem to register it for some reason.

Sonnetto ran in front of me for some reason to shield me further, but her eyes were only on my torso for some reason.

I went for my holstered mage officer pistol when something red and sticky rubbed against my hands. Looking down, I saw blood gushing out of my body and onto my shirt from several bullet wounds.

I must have put up my barrier too late. I had never been this slow before. What is going on with me?

As my consciousness faded, I knew at least that Sonnetto and my teammates in La Cumbrecita would probably be safe. They were strong. All the people who cared about me then flashed through my mind. Those close to me and the rest of the world could go on without me.

I was content with my death this time. No longer did I feel like I was fighting myself and the world. I finally felt what I always wanted — love, genuine connection, and peace.

A light then filled me. Something soft and kind washed over me. My consciousness started to come back.

I could sense an influence in my mind. It was so much like the Type-95's during the war when it had twisted me into saying all of those praises for Being X. I manipulated my mana with the fine control I had developed over the years with my reasonable application of the enhancement and analgesic formulae and used it to shove out the foreign influence that had somehow gotten in there.

Then everything came back. I saw the Rhine — all the mud, the mentally scarring din of artillery fire, the train rides that brought you past countless rotting pieces of this or that corpse, the crying new recruits who could not handle it anymore after they saw someone they foolishly befriended bite it, and how surviving more than a week in the meat grinder gave you seniority. How could I ever forget that man-made hell? You learned not to get too close to people to get through it, but if you beat the odds and got to the other side of it, you ended up with a family of people who were changed like you were.

I saw that Russy prison and how I was forced into a dress. The commies had deprived me of the perfect soldier who allowed me to pretend I was just following a career path and following orders. All I could do was sit and think and process. I could feel every moment Visha or Matheus should have been there. It drove me to tears. Everything that had happened during the war had hit me all at once as I had nothing to do to distract myself and was alone with my thoughts.

Did Sonnetto understand war? Did she know why I had to spend time just being with those who had fought in the war?

More importantly, why am I just lying down on the job?! I am not tired. I feel fine; no, I feel better than fine.

I awoke to the feeling of my head on the concrete floor and a hand on my abdomen, filling me with a warm but gentle mana. I saw Khuyana looking down at me in relief and glanced down to see what must be the last bullet floating out of my body. I could feel my body knitting itself back together rapidly, but without any tumorous growths that would have occurred if I had tried the same stunt. Her speed was astounding. There was no anemia, so she must have magically replenished my blood as well.

I then noticed my ears rang with the sound of gunfire and optical formulae, and I knew what I needed to do.

Where is my gun? Some people have a past due order for some holes put in their bodies!

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - May 30th, 1950

Agent Calamity's long, off-white hair flapped lightly behind her as they flew over the trees. If Destripadora had not taken such a circuitous route that required them to backtrack multiple times, they would not have gotten there sooner.

As the sun fell behind the Andes, they finally reached the den of Destripadora.

"It is a lot closer to the church than I expected," she said.

"Yeah, about a half a mile," Doctor Jones added. "It appears our perp lives in town."

Masquerade looked confused for some reason.

They set themselves down on the ground before they checked the premises. It was a small house with a lush garden full of plants Calamity had never seen before. To be fair, most plants were new to her here. The garden was at the back of the house, with a thorny hedge acting as a natural fence.

The Tejan sharpshooter put her hand on her Colt .45 as she walked the perimeter of the domicile.

"Don't enter the garden," Jones warned.

"I admit it looks nice, but we are dealing with a murderer here."

Jones gestured his seriousness and the need for both of the officers from MI15 to listen carefully. "Not only can we get in a lot of trouble, and not only in the legal sense, this is an Andean mage. That garden has more than thorns protecting it."

"There can't be too many Andean mages in a town of this size," Masquerade smartly deduced.

"You are right," Jones commented as his face furrowed in deep concern. "Most of them were driven off or burned at the stake. We were lucky Doctor González was not in town for the incident. She was already struggling a lot with something and had turned to the Universalists to help her."

"How is just murdering all those people like that even legal?" the Albish gentleman inquired, exasperated.

Calamity sighed. "It ain't that simple out here, Agent M. Mob justice is still the law of the land in many places in the Americas, especially out in the sticks. For some, it has become a kind of sickening entertainment."

"How is it that no one speaks against it?" Masquerade pressed, distraught as he recalled what they had been told about the razing of the village nearby.

"Because it ain't that easy!" Calamity shouted louder than she intended. "Maybe one in ten thousand will stand against the mob. For most, when you are up against that kind of zeal, you are just thinking about not getting in its way and how to protect yourself and your kin. Most folks want nothing to do with it, so they just watch or turn their heads."

Masquerade clenched his fists. "So what you are saying is that the world needs heroes, then?"

"You know there ain't no heroes in this world," the ever-child officer answered. "And I definitely will never call myself one after what I have done. In this world, moral cowardice might be a dime a dozen, but I have seen things change. It just takes a bit of a jumpstart, and then the ones turning away or just watching realize they outnumber the mob."

"What does it take to jumpstart it then?" the sad and angry thespian demanded.

"If I knew, I would be screaming that from the mountaintops until the world knew. Instead, I am here dealing with this case and doing what I can to make a positive difference for once."

With that, the three got started casing the perp's abode. The Interpol officers saw nothing suspicious outside the building. The place just looked cozy and nice, but there were no signs anyone was home. Knocking on the door, no one answered.

"I guess we will need a warrant," Jones let them know. "Hopefully, your Captain and the others are doing better."

---

Kola Factory, Confederacy of Greater Andea - May 30th, 1950

Sonnetto rushed to Agent Nichts' side but was too late. A massive barrage of bullets rained down on them as Sanchez's men unleashed fire on them from all sides. Nichts had not picked up on the cocaine used in the product, which would have been fine if they had decocainized it before shipping it globally. It was evident by the cover-up that they weren't. From what Interpol knew, most of the factories sold the legal product, but they suspected Sanchez's didn't. Their buyer probably wanted to ship it somewhere with weak customs and a vulnerable population.

Nichts should have picked up on this, or maybe Sonnetto was being too harsh. She would be more sensitive to the smell of chemicals in the air than her housemate.

No, that can't be the whole story.

Nichts had been acting weird ever since they started working with Khuyana like Nichts had forgotten how to fight and was blind to all the signs of danger around them. Sonnetto had tried her hardest to convey what was going on, but nothing clicked for the blonde. It was like she had suddenly lost all of her battle instincts. A Nichts who was not afraid of others was like a completely different person.

Now Nichts laid on the ground bleeding out, and there was nothing Sonnetto could do for her.

"Clearance B, Fang, take out the gunners. I will handle the mages."

The martial artist nodded and literally ran up the scaffolding to the catwalks to eliminate threats. Bullets from the non-mages just bounced off him like Fang was made of steel. Given how his magic worked, that was not far from the truth.

Khuyana summoned a giant bubble around herself, Nichts, and Sonnetto. With the translator down, they had to go with context clues in their communication. The healer quickly got started removing the bullets and regenerating the flesh and blood in their downed ally. Sonnetto hoped that the Andean mage had the healing chops to make up for her lack of firepower for Nichts' sake.

Right now, though, Sonnetto needs to focus on Sanchez's mages. Instead of using her trusty dual Colt M1911A1s, she opted for the more powerful mage rifle, the STG44. The Germanian firearm had a Persian Grenade launcher attachment.

The alchemy-powered officer shot one after another of her specialty mana-disrupting grenades, another gift from the ever-talented Agent U. She could keep up the fire due to her ability to reload her weapons while firing them passively. The dozen computation-orb-based mages encircling them did not know what hit them as the explosives arced through the air and homed into the nearest mage. Those closest to Sonnetto and Khuyana got the worst. The alchemist explosion wouldn't destroy anything but rather burst into magical interference, knocking them out of the air and eliminating their shields. That made them sitting ducks for regular mage rifle fire.

There were three major reasons Sonnetto had taken this route. Khuyana's surprisingly durable barrier absorbed the mages' optical formula sufficiently enough to allow Sonnetto to focus on offense. Like most mage barriers, one could shoot out of it but not into it. Secondly, the grenades had a low risk of hitting unintended targets like her own team. Her team had mostly grouped up with the exception of Fang, who had gotten into a martial arts battle with one of Sanchez's "managers". Finally, they were not in the air but all inside a building with a low-hanging roof. The mages couldn't just get out of range of the grenades or easily outfly them. The homing was good but not so good to use in a dogfight.

Sonnetto only picked off two of the dozen European-style mages before they got their magical barriers back up. They were mono-core users, so Sonnetto could still pierce their barriers with a sufficient amount of her alchemy-laced rounds.

"I am up!" Agent Nichts shouted to let Sonnetto know just in time as the barrier crumbled around them. The two got into their duo flight pattern immediately.

Khuyana was not so fortunate. Defenseless, one of the mages Sonnetto had knocked out of the air flew at the Andean mage. The enemy mage had dropped their weapons during their fall, but that did not stop her from grabbing Khuyana and dropping the officer into the pool with the sharks.

Sonnetto did not have time to think about that as Nichts and her had their own swarm of threats out for their blood.

The two housemates flew back-to-back, overlapping their barriers and spinning as they unloaded. These grunts were a cakewalk for the ace of aces, and now her head was back into the game. After Nichts unloaded her p38 sidearm, Sonnetto quickly supplied her subordinate with the blonde's preferred rifle.

With the mage grunts out of the way, they went after Sanchez, who had hopped into a truck. It wouldn't be fast enough to outpace them, but then the two other managers from earlier blocked their path.

One had transformed his arm into something resembling a bear's but much more massive and made out of blue mana. Despite being several meters away from the two mages, he lifted a claw and swiped at them. Sonnetto gave a contextual beep to dodge, and Nichts followed her command. They broke as three mana blades passed by their previous location.

Is this what Andean offensive magic looks like?

Mana blades cut through barriers like a hot knife through butter, so Sonnetto's call had saved both of their lives.

Then the other manager attacked. Both of his arms had become serpentine with snake heads for hands. When this Andean mage lowered his arms forcibly, the serpentine magical constructs extended rapidly at Sonnetto. One snake missed, but the other swerved just in time for its massive head to bite into the homunculus' barrier. Its teeth pierced the barrier and stabbed into Sonnetto.

"HR would like to talk to you about keeping your hands to yourself!" Nichts jeered as she sniped the manager with a guiding formula.

The snake disappeared instantly, freeing Sonnetto to just barely dodge another swipe from the other guy's bear claw. Tanya and Sonnetto circled the remaining manager, who had put up a hefty barrier like Khuyana's earlier. No matter what they did, it wouldn't crack, and Sonnetto did not have any more grenades. If she spent all her remaining magic on this guy, she would become a sitting duck.

Suddenly, a massive mana signature like Mary Sue's nearly knocked Sonnetto unconscious by the sheer sudden intensity of it. One beep and the two dodged as a massive claw-like beam attack passed through the manager's barrier and shredded him apart.

Sonnetto turned to watch several non-mages fall unconscious as the mana in the air overwhelmed them. This time, it was not due to Fang's ki-fuelled strikes. The Captain of MI15 scanned her surroundings, but the source of the mana moved with an uncanny ability to avoid her gaze.

"You two have much to confess," a strange voice called out from all directions. It was speaking Quecha, but Sonnetto understood them perfectly despite not knowing the language. "Your suffering will not end until you do. The longer you wait, the worse your fate will be."

Sonnetto tapped her arm to activate her communication spell. "Who are you?"

"They call me many things: strife, enemy, savage, plague. I lie in all hearts. The more you deny my existence there, the more power I have."

"She is La Destripadora," Nichts claimed as she landed next to her housemate. They got ready for another fight. Fang, free of any more targets to take out, watched from the catwalk in rapt attention of a man going to an action movie, which concerned Sonnetto for a different reason.

Fang could wait, but the question on the captain's mind then was: Why was Destripadora here and not in La Cumbrecita?

---

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - May 30th, 1950

Warrant in hand, they returned to the perp's home. Masquerade had a hunch that Doctor Jones already knew who the murderer was, but the man of action kept the truth locked in his heart for now. Was this Destripadora a lover or close friend of his?

"So, should we kick down the door or break a window?" Calamity asked as she double-checked her Colt .45 at her side had the right ammunition for a powerful foe.

"Neither," Masquerade replied as he saddled up next to the door. The door had a hefty and expensive American Sovereign Lock. The former spy deftly pulled out his thieves' tools and racked the tumblers of the lock with the metal comb pick. Despite the dollar amount for the lock, most of that price went into brand recognition and suppressing the competition, not into the lock's quality. It did not matter how bulky the lock was if the lock itself could be picked with the most novice of techniques.

"Paint me green and call me a cucumber. How'd you do that?"

"Calamity, it was really nothing."

"Now you are just being a braggart."

No, he wasn't. Masquerade did not know if it was worth it, breaking it to her that most locks would not stop an experienced picker. The illusion of safety helped people sleep at night, and the illusion of difficulty dissuaded amateurs. Illusions like the value of money made the world go round, and when utilized by a pro like Agent Masquerade, anything became possible, even when people knew they were being tricked.

Especially when they had arrogantly thought they had actually seen through all the illusions and were no longer being fooled, he thought darkly to himself.

The Interpol officers entered the premises, reannouncing themselves as they did so. The house seemed to belong to a religious woman by the looks of the X's on the walls, and delicates hung to dry. Not wanting to tear through the home, Doctor Jones pulled out another of the magical artifacts lent him for his investigations. It was a crystal skull of some sort.

"This will allow us to take someone's mana and take fragments of recent actions. It isn't typically very useful without the person."

"But perp leaves a lot of mana pollution wherever she goes," Masquerade added. "This place has a lot more than the crime scene, that is for certain."

"It will be less accurate than having the person feed magic into the skull still. We should still get something."

The ambient mana in the room pulled into the skull as Jones started saying the magic words in a language the two MI15 officers could not understand.

The skull's eyes brightened up, and its jaw shifted as it got ready to speak.

Jones pointed the skull at a wall and motioned for the Masquerade to snuff out the candles they had lit earlier.

Ethereal images were projected on the wall. The skull spoke on behalf of Destripadora in a voice so ghostly that it was not clear if it was the artifact's fault or if the creature of strife just sounded like that.

The skull first displayed the scene of the murder. The three officers all spoke Ispagnish so that they could follow along.

"Destripadora, please, forgive me. I am but a humble man of the—"

"She beseeched the Lord as you led that mob to burn down her village. She called out to you as you had your congregation burn her at the stake for 'witchcraft'."

The scene continued from there.

"She clearly knows this Rivera monster," Calamity spat.

"It doesn't—"

"Quiet!" Jones told the two. He listened carefully. Worry radiated from the grizzled archeologist.

Then, the vengeful murderer's face became visible through the skull's eyes. Jones froze the scene so all of them could see her clearly. It would have been too dark for Rivera, but the ethereal light of the esoteric spell could see into the darkest depths.

Destripadora by Sasika Guruge​

Her ears had extended into fae-like points. Most notably, she had a tail.

"A mage with mutations?" Masquerade commented. "She shouldn't be too hard to find, especially with that tail."

"She looks a bit like Doctor González, doesn't she?" Calamity asked. "A cousin, perhaps?"

While the hair was styled the same way, the woman had reddish-orange hair instead of the physician's typical black.

"No, that most certainly is a teammate."

"Then, we got to warn Captain Sonnetto, pronto!"

"They're too far away."

Jones held up his hand. "There is something we can do, but first, we need more information."

The archeologist pushed further back in time with the skull's power. The images flickered off as there was less magic to power it now.

The group heard the Andean mage speak, her voice no longer distorted by whatever transformation overtook her.

"Inside each person, there are two natures…our will to love and our will towards strife…if these two parts can be housed separately, the strife in our souls can be excised."

Then another voice spoke. "The Board of Governors…and the Bishop of…will now hear…the proposal of Doctor Khuyana González…."

Raucous voices of several individuals then came out of the skull. It is hard to parse them.

"González, you are all talk and no results."

"You have not been…since the war."

"...new obsession."

"Order, Order! González, speak your case."

"Distinguished governors," the Andean mage started. She must be at some medical board to get funding for some experiments, Masquerade determined. "...I dreamt of a future…a cure to save humankind…to make us worthy of the Lord of Faith again so that he will return…world peace…a cure that will cleave the evil from the good."

The skull sputtered as the sound of the scene faded in and out.

"Where does the strife in their hearts go, González."

"Proposal denied!"

Skull went silent for a few moments. Masquerade thought it must be done, but its crystalline jaw moved to speak again in its stomach-churning way.

"This is the moment!" Agent Khuyana's voice came. "This accursed feeling in me. It rages within, but it also lurks in everyone I see. It lies just underneath their facade, coming out in the dark when no one can see. But I also see their love suffocating underneath all this hatred. Lord, why have you given me this knowledge if not to guide me to this formula."

Another shuddering motion from the skull.

"We should stop this," Masquerade cautioned. Fear gripped his heart, and not only because of what the skull was doing. There was more going on than just whatever the physician had tried to invent.

Calamity screamed as a spectral hand grabbed at her. She dodged out of the way but had gotten even more pale. "Stop the damned channeling."

Sweat wetted Jones' brow as he kept going. "We need to know what she did and see if there is something we can do to help. She is my teammate."

They understood that, but as ghost-like figments of mages long dead came into the room, the two officers were quickly losing their cool.

Spectral words started appearing on the walls, and Jones read them aloud as they appeared.

"5:42 am. The formula is complete…administered the seven centiliters… to myself. I am feeling a…euphoria…no noticeable…Time to prove…to be free from this horror…become a proper angel of the Lord…. Suddenly, uncontrolled, something is taking hold. Agony, filling…killing..out of breath…its death, no a creature."

The jaw moved again as the reanimated ghostly mages from a bygone era drifted towards the living. Masquerade picked up a candlestick, lit it, and waved it at them. The spirits seemed to remember enough of their lives to fear the flame.

Calamity pulled out her pistol.

"No, don't," Jones shouted.

"What am I supposed to do!"

"They can't hurt you."

"How can you possibly know that?"

Before Jones could give the obvious answer, a bestial voice emanated from the skull. It was clearer now that they were closer to the present again.

"I am alive! Filled with hate, greed, and jealousy, but oh so alive!"

"You are just a reflection in my mirror," González meekly replied. "If I close my eyes, you cannot haunt me."

"That isn't me in the mirror, but us," Destripadora countered. "You will forget this conversation like you always do, but for as long as you live, you will always have me."

"Father Rivera will be here soon. He will banish you with his relic, demon! The Lord made me an angel. He had promised me the power to change the world before he left. I will use it to fill it with love."

"You will fill it with strife! You feel the coming battle call you."

"I refuse!"

"You can't refuse it just like you can't accept that Father Rivera doesn't want to help you."

"You are lying."

"You have closed your eyes, but that is because you know it is true."

"Stop it."

"You need me. Open up your eyes."

"Please. I can't."

"He killed her. He killed all of them."

"I don't want to believe that."

"Open up your eyes."

"I…can't. I don't want to see this part of him."

"He will hurt you. He will use you. I don't want this to happen to us. Please, if you won't save us, then let me."

"You kill and hate and destroy. That is all you do. You are evil!"

"I am not evil. I am you. Just let me do this for us before it is too late."

"..."

"Please, he is almost here. Let me be in charge before you forget me again. Now, Khuyana."

"Okay! But— AHHHHH!"

The sounds of a painful transformation filled the room.

A ghost then went through Calamity. "I can feel his mana signature!" She jumped away in fright. "It is like he is really there." She couldn't help it anymore. She shot the ghost, and it dissipated, causing the ancient mana signature to fade from their mage senses.

"There has to be an answer," Jone muttered.

The crystal skull went dead. It had depleted the last of the mana.

"No!" Jones raged before putting the skull away. "Dammit."

As the ghosts disappeared, Calamity collapsed to her knees and panted.

Masquerade leaned on the wall with nothing but his magic scepter and a candlestick in the other. He had seen horror before. He had performed it. These spooks felt more real than anything.

It took the two ten minutes before they had the wits to care about the case again.

Masquerade took a deep breath. "How do we get her soul united again?"

"Yeah, you're the necromancer," the Tejan added.

"I am not a necromancer. Do I look like an alchemist? I am not sure."

Calamity and Masquerade started thinking about what they should do next.

"Well, if Destripadora is with Capt'n and the others and just this bundle of hate and bloodlust, she might attack them if she gets unleashed again."

"Yeah, Agent Calamity Amb, those claw and tail magical constructs she used when she killed Rivera will throw them for a loop. I did not know Andeans could do that."

"They can, but Doctor González can't," Jones corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"She has never grown any offense spells as a matter of her faith."

"She's a pacifist then."

"Destripadora clearly isn't."

"Which begs the question of where she got those spells?" Jones muttered before his eyes went wide. He pulled out the ruby and sprinted outside. The other two followed after a moment of confusion.

"Where are we going?"

"To Destripadora's garden!"

Masquerade had no idea what that meant, but he had a gut feeling that if they didn't do something fast, his teammates might be in grave danger.

---

Kola Factory, Confederacy of Greater Andea - May 30th, 1950

Fang frowned, disappointed that his opponent had fallen unconscious from the Andean mage's aura.

The Mandate holder, Khuyana, had fallen into the shark tank, but her power protected her. The sharks had forgotten their hunger and predator instincts. They actually helped the Andean mage get out of the water.

Fang had seen all of that from his vantage during his work of knocking out and then pulling out of the way the unconscious non-mages. After the sunset, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and whatever the other side of her duality came out. This side of Khuyana had already unlocked part of her true form. It was so exciting.

The martial artist was far more sensitive than his teammates to the subtleties of mana due to his need to finely control it when cultivating his mana body. When the captain for MI54 introduced Fang's team to Khuyana, he could see how Agent Nichts practically inhaled into her body the faint mana that the Andean mage exuded. Where his former commander's aura rejected and fought against Mary Sue's Mandate, the blonde just could not get enough of Khuyana's. It had actually made the veteran act so silly during their trip, but now she came to her senses. Thankfully, she had not actually died.

Best of all, the battlejunkie could watch two Mandates have a proper fight.

"Fang, get down here and help," Sonnetto called out. "Khuyana is not acting herself."

Well, he did have a job, too. However, he was not sure what he could do at his skill level. He lept down anyway and dashed to their side.

This Khuyana ignored him, which was fine since he did not want to get close if what the sages said was true.

Interpretation of Khuyana by SDarkshine​

"Agent Nichts, you can't outrun it," the transformed Mandate claimed with the divine power of Tongues translating for Fang. "Each secret will tear at you and fester until you reap the fate it begins."

"Please make sense, Khuyana," Nichts replied.

"She is asking you to confess, both of you," Fang explained.

"Or what?"

"We could fight until you do!" Destripadora answered. "You really should listen to your doctor."

Nichts pointed her gun at their case leader, who got on all fours with her new tail ready to retaliate.

Interpretation of Khuyana & Destripadora by Sasika Guruge​

"Why are you two fighting?!" Sonnetto shouted through her spell.

"It is like every cell in my body tells me you are my family but that I should be wary of you," Destripadora growled.

"Because you are," Fang supplied.

"Okay, pause," Sonnetto interjected. "Fang, explain what is going on right now."

The young man glanced at Agent Nichts. "Shouldn't she explain this?"

"I am as lost as everyone else," the blonde responded. "Would you give us the executive summary, Agent Fang?"

The martial artist was somewhat disappointed that an epic world-redefining battle hadn't broken out yet. Maybe that was not wise with guns present. He did not want either of them to die. They were his teammates. Fang had expected both of them would just agree to a proper duel, not actually fight to the death.

It just took a moment for him to push out the influence of her aura from his mind, and then he proceeded with this "executive summary", the Germanian war vet requested.

"So, there are eleven Mandates who each have a duality that represents their core duality. By coming to understand and accept their duality, they can both gain strength from it but its weakness. Eventually, you will unlock your final forms just like Mary Sue has. You just have to do what your mandate demands of you."

Nichts furrowed her brow but never let her eyes off Destripadora. Her finger looked twitching. Fang could tell the instinct to be wary of an unallied Mandate, just like the sage said would happen.

I am witnessing history!

"Okay, if somehow Nichts and Khuyana are two of these Mandates and each has a duality, which ones are they?" Sonnetto inquired.

"I don't know," Fang answered honestly, glancing at Nichts' mirror arms. It was like the moment he thought he understood what she was. The libertarian law enforcement officer would contradict it.

"Of course," the helmeted Interpol officer grossed. "Is it so much to ask for people to stop trying to make me part of some divine plan?"

"We all are part of one whether we want to be or not," Destripadora retorted. "Have you none of his Faith in your heart?"

"I try hard not to," Tanya commented as she tensed up more.

Before Sonnetto could continue her questioning, Destripadora vanished, leaving an afterimage in her place. The voice of Destripadora came from every shadow simultaneously. "You hate the Lord of Faith? I can smell it. Such an intense hatred for your creator. What did he do to you? Why do I smell a bloodlust towards the Lord on you?"

Nichts gritted her teeth, refusing to answer with words. Her Mandate pressed outward, temporarily overpowering Destripadora's before retreating back into its shell. That was enough to cause Sonnetto to faint from being in the middle of the two Mandates, unfortunately. Their new captain had not developed the resilience that Fang had despite living with one.

Nichts had locked in her Mandate so perfectly behind two layers of what Fang saw as power limiters. This training technique was somewhat like wearing weights on one's arms and legs. When the greatest martial artists no longer had any available peers at their skill level, they would use such methods to help them continue improving by evening on the playing field against those earlier in their journeys of martial excellence. Fang had long put his reservations about Nichts aside just to be awed by her rigorous training and discipline to hold that up so long.

Sonnetto was finally feeling the brunt of two partial Mandate auras and could not handle it.

Theistic proclamations a moment ago apparently interacted with Nichts' Mandate for some reason, but Fang did not know why. It couldn't be that her Mandate was misotheism because that would be silly. Money? Careerism? Resistance to authority? Even freedom did not seem quite right. It kept slipping through his metaphorical fingers.

Nichts turned around but could not keep up with Destripadora. A claw attack grazed the blonde's cheek, creating a streak of lavender light along the Khuyana's path. Before Tanya could retaliate, the now redheaded Argentium woman had returned to the shadows.

"Confess! If not to her or the Lord, then to me."

"What are you, some priest now? Agent González, you are a professional, and you are preventing us from catching Sanchez. We need you to do your job."

"But healing people is my job. First comes the hurting, and then comes the healing as it does with every heart."

Another swipe, drawing a little more blood.

Fang couldn't help. If he got between them, he would just be pushed back by the thick mana between them. It was torture for Nichts.

"Unleash your Mandate!" Fang called out, trying to help.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"You know your winged form!"

"That was the Type-95! I don't have that accursed thing anymore."

Wait…the Type-95 causes that form? I thought that was one of her lies to cover up her Mandate from Mary Sue. I don't understand.

Destripadora did not wait for them to continue talking and knocked off Nichts' helmet with her next strike.

"If you don't let the pain out of your heart, then let me remove these rancid bandages and expose the festering wound."

"You can't force people to do things, Khuyana."

"Light is really the best anti-sceptic for such conflict in your heart. You will feel better when the operation is done."

"You also can't just fix people, Agent. I have already had enough people try to fix me."

"You are right, Nichts. No one else can fix you. Only you can fix you."

"Then politely leave me alone to do that when I want to."

"I am just offering some forceful encouragement to get you to stop holding back."

"You won't like what happens if I stop holding back—"

The half-Mandate interrupted Nichts by snipping off her goggles and destroying them in the process. Khuyana performed the precise cut so fast that even with the acceleration technique, Fang could not keep up. She could almost instantly move between shadows.

Wait…

Fang got an idea. He ran to the control deck again.

"Where are you going?" Nichts raged at him. "I need help."

"I am! But you should still tell her a secret. I don't know if this will help."

"Like what? I don't have anything she needs to know."

Destripadora shredded the Nichts' mantle, exposing another layer of deception underneath — Tanya von Weiss.

"But someone does need to know," the possessed Khuyana proclaimed. The woman possessed by all her hate suddenly stood over Sonnetto, which prevented Tanya from going on the offensive. "The moment someone else knows, you will feel incredible pain as all that pent-up sickness comes out, but then the healing will happen."

Fang got to the light switches. Now it was dark out. He needed all the lights on to limit the power of Destripadora. The factory used windows on its ceiling for light during the day but had additional lighting for nighttime. As the cultivator figured out which switches did what, he continued to try to help the Mandate of MI15.

"Tell her you about your memories of your past life!" Fang called out, noticing Sonnetto beginning to stir.

Tanya nearly tripped. "My what?!"

The martial artist switched to Akinese. "You know… that you reincarnated."

The blonde's aura bristled wildly throughout the facility. The windows cracked, and only a few of the lights burst due to her undefined Mandate's power.

"Is what he says true, Nichts?" Destripadora pressed. She summoned her Mandate weapon, which was a curved blade like a scimitar.

"I have no—"

Before Tanya could speak, Destripadora readied herself for a stab. The sword seemed to always point towards the heart of its foe, and it was directed now at Tanya's.

Before Destripadora could go in for the kill, the lights finally turned on, interrupting her charge.

"Fine! I reincarnated and remember it."

Silver flames suddenly enveloped Tanya's hair as her confession weakened her Weiss power limiter. While Tanya's Mandate Skill: Silver Mirror caused Fang to see the helmet and goggles on her head, he knew that the actual objects were no longer on her. He had not yet figured out the trick around the skill yet, but he was trying.


Seemingly oblivious to her concealed transformation, Tanya raised her rifle to shoot at her now manageably slow foe.

"You have pried a secret from me," the war vet stated firmly. "Are you happy? You going to calm down and come to your senses?"

"No—."

"Well, I tried the talking route," the war vet lamented.

In a fluid motion, Tanya flipped her firearm around, boosted into Destripadora, and bashed her in the waisted with the butt of the rifle. The Destripadora-possessed officer had the breath knocked out of her. The heart-seeking blade had tried to bend towards Tanya, but a wave of force followed the aerial mage like she had the power of the ocean behind her, knocking the Mandate's conjured weapon out of Khuyana's hands. Fang could even hear the sound of a wave crashing despite the lack of physical water.

The Andean mage crashed into the drum of one of the mixing machines, forming a crater-like dent in her shape at the middle.

Fang remembered that Tanya had been holding back considerably at that moment. He knew she always was but never knew why. The wave-like concussive spell that had instinctually come out of her drained a lot of her mana in order to achieve such a powerful effect. All the dead bodies of the mages she and their captain had killed earlier made painfully clear that Tanya was not trained for nonlethal combat like this. It was not so much that Tanya was afraid of dying but rather that she was afraid of killing her teammate. It awed Fang that her desire to save Khuyana more than any fear of harm had inspired a rare confession from the war vet.

Sonnetto got up and started walking towards her housemate. Concern was plain on her face.

"Tanya, is that you?" the white-haired officer asked, using the spell because Tanya's focus was on their seemingly possessed teammate.

"Of course, I am me," she replied.

"Your hair, your…You look like a different person."

Fang was jealous. How had Sonnetto gotten past the Silver Mirror already? What was the secret?

"I…dammit," Tanya cursed in a rare slip. "It is just a mutation."

"This isn't just a—"

"Stand back!" Tanya warned, cutting off their Captain. Destripadora's aura suddenly went on the offensive again by trying to press down Tanya's. "This isn't quite done."

From Fang's perspective, whatever technique Tanya used to conceal her true power had unraveled enough to give her the boost necessary to match the half-Mandate's mana easily.

Destripadora pulled herself out of the drum and lifted her sword back up with its hilt at her ear, and the point was directed again at Tanya.

Their Captain looked worried but knew these kinds of fights were her subordinate's specialty. Fang understood how it felt not to be able to participate and just have to watch.

You just have to train if you want to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with giants like these.

A roar blasted from Destripadora again as her half of the Mandate seemed to feed on the battle. The lights all shattered. Only sparks from the damaged electrical devices and the flashes of magical light from the two Mandates provided any sight for the battle that ensued as the shadows came to protect Destripadora.

Flash - Destripadora charged. The sword only grazes the blonde on the side, coating her officer uniform with a bit of blood.

A loud whoosh of concussive force.

Flash - Tanya used that mysterious force again to shove Destripadora into another machine.

The sound of several machines and scaffolding being smashed by something large.

Flash - Tanya blocked a now gigantic tail of the other Mandate with a point barrier.

Kaboom!

Flash - Destripadora attempted to stab at Tanya, who had run up her tail with her reconjured weapon, but the blonde blasted her back again. This time, with an explosion formula since the less lethal option, did not keep half-Mandate down.

Tanya must have figured out that if she got into range of Destripadora's blade, it would unerringly go for a lethal blow to the heart through pure battle instinct.

"Stand down, Khuyana. You have no chance to defeat me."

Fang could swear he could hear the ocean again as Tanya spoke. If his captain could, he did not know.

Sonnetto generated an alchemical light from one of her tattoos. When she noticed Fang, she momentarily glared at the martial artist, causing him to remember himself. He schooled his expressions. While he was excited on the inside, Fang needed to take seriously the fact that his teammate had fought for her life.

Destripadora roared weakly, and then some more sounds of fighting occurred. Then, it went quiet for a moment.

Brightening the light with her mana, Sonnetto revealed the last bout.

Destripadora— no, Khuyana had just dropped her weapon, causing it to dissolve in the air. Her mana was nearly depleted. The healer of their team bent down and clutched her head in pain. Then, she blinked as if she had come to her senses.

The aerial mage did not miss an opportunity to strike an opponent in a moment of weakness.

"Wait—"

Despite her words earlier, Tanya did not hesitate in time. Decades of training carried her attack to completion once initiated. A butt of her rifle impacted Khuyana in the head, knocking the poor woman unconscious. Luckily, she was a mage and wouldn't suffer any long-term effects, but that had to hurt. Fang had to wince reflexively from the sight.

The plus side of being a mage was you could take a beating and could get up again. According to all of Fang's other teammates, the minus side of being a mage was that you could take a beating and get up again. Combat was the expectation and duty of most mages. Pain was a constant companion in their lives, yet none of the Mages of Interpol wanted to hurt their teammates, even Khuyana, who was clearly possessed by her own alter ego.

As Fang saw it, Tanya obviously used her alters as power limiters to conceal herself from her potential enemies — the other Mandates. Khuyana had cut her soul in half somehow and failed to remove the "bad" parts of herself.

Sonnetto ran up to Tanya. There were countless things to figure out and discuss, like what to do with Khuyana and whether to search for Dario Sanchez.

Fang could only wonder what had stopped the Destripadora half of Khuyana mid-battle. It wasn't her near mana exhaustion.

---

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - 30th of May, 1950

Agent Calamity panted in exhaustion. They had found Destripadora's garden. While Agent Doctor Harrison Jones transferred the plants that thankfully did not attack him, she and Agent Masquerade dug holes next to Khuyana's garden. Once transplanted, the two gardens merged, undoing whatever the physician had done to herself. At least, they hope it did.

The three had no idea if they had been too late or if their teammates in the Confederacy up north had needed help at all.

"It was pretty fortunate that you two had those shovels handy," Agent Jones commented. "Why did you bring them?"

""Agent Nichts"" Both MI15 officers replied.

Calamity glanced over at her fellow agent and burst out laughing. After a long day of detective work, they were ready to settle in for the night. The centennial mage wondered if her teammate would be spending the night with Jane Forger again. The two had discreetly rendezvoused during the voyage to Argentum. She might be an ever-child, but Amber Canary grew up on a farm and had grown far too wise over the last century not to pick up on what the thespian was doing.

Yet there were late-night hijinks. Perhaps the man was too tired, or the two had split up at some point.

---

Paso del Diablo, Confederacy of Greater Andea - 31st of May, 1950

Polyxena (aka Jane Forger) landed near the turned-over truck and walked after the limping man.

"Let's cut to the chase, Señor Sanchez. You know why I am here."

He awkwardly entered the harrowing ridgeside path in a futile attempt to escape a mage.

Sanchez, for all his supposed power, was just a mundie. His fate was for Polyxena to determine, like any other mundie she had set her eyes upon. The right of might to decide was as firm as any law of nature, even if Polyxena detested what it meant. The mage did not choose her power. She did not choose for the communists to send her to a gulag. What she did choose was for what purpose she wielded her power.

So often, someone of power and influence will enter a weak person's life. They might as well be a hurricane, for they can destroy what they will without consequences. It might be a man who leaves a woman with a child as he continues on in his merry life. It might be a woman who lays off a whole department and lets them figure out what they were supposed to do as all those jobs were gone. It might be a powerful country that decides a weaker one elected the wrong leader and instigates a coup to set up a brutal dictator for their puppet government.

The way you know you have true power is when you reach your weakest point. If you can still imagine falling into debt and hardship and then rising like a phoenix to greatness, you have real power. If your whole life is derailed by such hardship with no escape, you know you have become the powerful's plaything to play with and discard as they see fit.

That was Polyxena's opinion.

Sanchez kept moving down the path as she gracefully followed. The sound of her khopesh clinking against the stone had its desired effect.

"I will tell you anything!" he shouted.

."I am listening, Señor Sanchez."

"The one behind this had me make the drink. Cocaine is my main business. Whoever the real buyer is, he wouldn't tell me anything. All I could tell you is he wanted to get people hooked on it fast."

"I know that," she stated flatly. "You are getting to the point of no return." She then prodded him with the point of her blade, which caused the businessman to lose his footing and slip. His hands desperately held to the cliff face of Paso de Diablo. "You are really losing your grip on the situation, Sanchez. Tell me: Why did they ask you to make Kola?"

"I don't know! I swear."

"Any names?"

"They used middlemen. Please, I am slipping, I beg you."

The Allied Kingdom had given her the license to kill this man. Normally, Polyxena would. He was a horrible man whose cartel had ruined countless lives in Central and South America.

It would be so easy, too. The green-suited assassin could still smell a thick scent of gasoline that had splashed on Sanchez when he exited his get-away truck after the crash. He might survive the fall. All it would take would be a spark of magic to immolate him. She doubted he would survive both.

She gripped the man by the collar and lifted him up. Polyxena could sense some mana signals from airborne mages headed this way. They were too far away for their signatures to be readable without specialized equipment. It could be Interpol who walked into Sanchez's death trap. They had Agent Nichts, so Polyxena was sure they were fine. It could also be the Tanechka's Angels or any other group who had an interest in the man.

"What are you—."

Polyxena pinched his neck in a specific place the ki-users had taught her.

"Shhh. It was far too late, Mr. Sanchez, and it was an exciting day. You should really get some sleep."

She laid him down on the ridge. Then, using the wristwatch the Albish Secret Service gave her, she created a pulse for a phony mana signature that would attract the mages headed this way. While Sanchez knew a mage had hunted him down, her identity was secure behind her disguise spell.

She who controls the mages controls the world. The Allied Kingdom may supply me with jobs, but the non-mages and their governments have no real power to control me. Hopefully, the world will wake up to whatever is about to happen before it is too late.

…

The sounds of insects and the wind sure became louder without the man's pleading.

Unfortunately, real life does not have ending credits, and Polyxena had to figure out what to do next. She checked the time on her watch-like device. It luckily actually kept time, but because the nob on the side didn't actually change the location of the hands on the watch, she had to calculate from GMT to GMT-4. The assassin sighed in relief when she determined she could still get to a nearby town with a hotel. It had not taken too long to get to this location, so it should theoretically take a reasonable time to get back and get some sleep.

She then took a deep breath and tried to get another snappy one-liner out for the road.

"As for me, my role here is done, so I will be exiting stage…uh."

She didn't know the proper term for her planned exit. Thespian jokes were her Albish boyfriend's thing. Polyxena thought she would try her hand at his jokes instead of her typical brand of humor that just terrified their guests. Before they left for South America, Matheus had Laurence promise never to have her cook alone again after another one of her jokes landed poorly.

Embarrassed despite being the only one to hear her fumble, the assassin in a green suit glided off the cliff and into the forest below. After all, it was time for her to make like a tree and leave.

Dammit, that would have been better.

---

Chapter Epilogue

La Cumbrecita, Argentum - 3rd of June, 1950

Sonnetto finished her last report for her team's two cases in South America. Being Captain was a lot of work, but it came with a pay raise and also gave her housemate more free time.

It was free time, which she immediately filled with a time-consuming project. Sonnetto glanced over at Tanya at the other desk in the room MI54 had provided the two of them. The woman was fretting away over her C+ coding books and a training civilian computation orb. From what Sonnetto understood, Tanya was learning how to program a spell to insulate herself while working with high-voltage electricity. Civilian magecraft had taken off after the war, and arcane experts had made a lot of progress since Tanya first studied coding for her license in the 30s.

The problem was that despite sharing a room, her housemate still found a way to close herself off from Sonnetto. A lot had happened, and Tanya needed to stop distracting herself. The two needed to talk a bit.

Obviously, there was the matter of her housemate's transformation. This person did not look like the Tanya whom Sonnetto had known for years but rather like a relative.

Tanya von Weiss, people thought they knew, had a subtle otherworldly beauty, like she just might be literally an angel who had fallen from heaven. Her Nichts outfit obscured this faint supernatural aspect of herself. In some ways, Tanya von Weiss from before the transformation did not seem real. Maybe she never was real.


Looking at the Tanya of now, the alchemical Captain of Interpol could see the other woman's new supernatural hair. Her previous golden locks were black and became silver at the end. The hair also moved on its own like flowing water. The woman's turmoil seems to translate into her wavy hair by making it flow more erratically. Her new hair was a lot for Sonnetto to take in.

This Tanya lifted her face from her hands and looked at Sonnetto. The crimson-eyed officer looked at her housemate's face carefully. The strange lines on this Tanya's face and the sigils on it glowed with a faint silver light. Her eyes now had black sclera like Mary Sue's, but the blue in her eyes had gotten even bluer.

These were significant changes, but they did not explain why this Tanya looked like she had a parent from Zhangzi or somewhere else in Asia.

Sonnetto remembered how fearsome and overwhelming Tanya had looked during the battle with Khuyana. Then, she had her rifle in hand and wore a blue and black outfit that her Mandate had created for her. Their battle together in Dzayer against the Covert Corps had hinted at what Tanya was becoming, but now it was even more apparent.

Tanya Unleashed - Form 1: Wave commissioned from Sasika Guruge​

Sonnetto finally collected her thoughts and formulated a topic to talk about. Her thought-to-speech spell had needed to be reapplied after running out shortly after Khuyana went unconscious during the Sanchez case. Since Tanya was far too focused on her books, Sonnetto used the spell instead of sign language for now. She could just reapply it tomorrow if need be.

The homunculus decided to start with a subject relevant to herself first before touching on Tanya's situation.

"I met Sonetto," the homunculus mentioned. "At the funeral."

Tanya stiffened a bit but continued to work, pretending to be unperturbed. "Oh…"

"I was wondering why you named me after her."

"Well…"

Sonnetto figured she had the right to know about the origin of her own name. "Is it because she is half-Tunisiyahan and looks a little like me to you?"

"I…this is…I don't know how to answer this."

Tanya fidgeted a bit. There was an obvious superficial similarity between Tanya's former teammate from back in the 1930s and her current one. While Sonetto (with one N) was an Ildoan name, the two women both also shared some Persian features, making it a potentially awkward decision of Tanya's.

As the Mandate pulled her attention out of her work and searched for the right words, Sonnetto offered a different question.

"What was going through your mind when you found me in that cage in the lab?"

"Well," the embarrassed reincarnated woman started as she tried to find the best way to talk about the subject. "First was that you needed to get out, and you needed a name. I remember how striking your red eyes were, just like my first impression of Sonetto with her glowing yellow ones. See…she was on my first team and the only Tunisiyahan I had ever really known, and you two looked similar. I know you are not from the Southern Continent, but I—"

"It is okay. You aren't a bad person. It was just something I wanted to confirm."

"Are you going to change your name? I understand if you are upset with my reasoning."

"No… I have already thought about it when I thought you were dead. I know you well enough to guess at what must have gone through your head once I met my namesake. I won't pretend you are perfect, but I care for you all the same. Keeping the name connects me more with you than it does with her because you are the one who gave it to me."

"Okay then. Thanks…for telling me that. I apologize for not talking about this sooner."

Tanya then got back to coding.

"May I hold you,...Tanya?" There was unintended hesitation before saying Tanya's name.

The war vet acted like she did not notice. After re-reading the next step from her textbook, Tanya took out the temporarily stashed away coding tool from her top and made a few more tweaks to the gears of the device.

"No, I am good," the war vet claimed. Sonnetto could hear that she wasn't by the slight tremble in her voice.

"You aren't acting yourself."

"What about you?" Tanya snapped. The Mandate had had enough and finally put down her tools.

Sonnetto reached out to the person who must be her duo partner, but she got up and just phased past the homunculus. She felt no more solid than vapid, and Sonnetto could hear the sound of rippling water. The captain could no more hold onto the other woman than she could water or air.

There was nothing intrinsically unpleasant about the experience when Tanya phased past people. There was no moisture left behind despite the clear allusions in her magic towards water. It did not hurt or feel cold. It just felt like room temperature vapid.

Tanya could not just phase through anything. There had to be some kind of intention to touch her or restrain her. Ropes, cuffs, or just a hug would trigger this escape ability. In Sonnetto's eyes, when Tanya was like this, she seemed less part of this reality. She was like a person untouched by the world or, rather, not quite in it. Something that still did not make much sense.

"Apparently, I am some kind of Mandate," Tanya raged in sign language, letting it all out with her hands. "According to Fang, they influence people near them with their mana. Sonnetto, I don't want to contaminate you or my teammates with this cursed mana like Khuyana did us."

"He also said that you are great at locking it inside yourself."

"But it still leaks out sometimes, and it probably has affected you and Matheus and everyone else I care about or have been close to in the past."

"Tanya, we will figure this out. Please, it doesn't have to be bad. Plus, you have only started unlocking it."

The war vet sighed. "Have you figured out how to push out the influence?"

"I can with Khuyana's, but with yours, it is complicated…"

Sonnetto went to sit next to her housemate. Whatever her Mandate abilities were doing, it unfortunately prevented Sonnetto from holding and, by extension, comforting her.

"Okay, the thing is, Tanya, I tried taking your mana out of me just like you and Fang taught me, but…I don't feel myself without it."

"What do you mean?"

"It is just like how I was before you found me in that lab. Back then, I had no desire to do anything or to be anything. I knew what the person who had this body before me wanted, but I didn't share those desires."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Tanya, I think your mana made me want to be someone. To remove it would be like killing myself."

The war vet took a deep breath and rubbed her knuckles before continuing their conversation.

"So you don't mind being with me then."

"I don't…"

"I will have to explain this to the Salamander Kampfgruppe. What will the non-mages do? They can't manipulate mana."

"We will take things one step at a time, but many of them don't spend significant amounts of time with you. The influence must have faded by now, according to Fang."

At this point, Tanya's hair had calmed down a bit more, but several things still bothered the woman. "What are you going to do? What if you no longer want to be with me? I don't want you dependent on being with me. You should be able to decide who you want to be with and not be forced to stay with me your entire existence."

"If I ever don't want to be with you, Tanya, we will figure that out then."

"What if I actually die?" Tanya wondered reasonably. "We don't have a healer in our team yet like Khuyana. If what you said is true, then won't my mana in you fade, and you will go back to that…."

"Numbness. Something was missing in my life, and you filled that space for me."

Tanya went quiet after seeing Sonnetto's words.

The homunculus reached out again.

"May I hold you, Tanya?" Sonnetto requested. Her housemate nodded. This time, she spoke without hesitation. This time, her hand made physical contact.

Her artificial heart swelled with a kind of joyous feeling because they shared a reality again. They could be together again. They could comfort each other again.

They repositioned each other on the bed so that Tanya sat between Sonnetto's legs. The sheets and comforter were wrapped around and held her torso from behind. Pillowed flanked them from all sides, giving them a place to rest when they were done comforting each other. Their warmth and mana started moving between each other in a way only two mages who trusted each other could understand.

Tanya did not chuckle or even register the romantic undertones in Sonnetto's words. The homunculus knew she should tell Tanya about her blossomed romantic love for her, but with so much going on right now, Sonnetto figured she should remain patient. There had been progress. Many of Tanya's walls had fallen between them. The real Tanya had some surprises, but that did not mean that Sonnetto did not recognize her. It was just a lot to take in, and Sonnetto did not know how to handle it yet.

Sonnetto's hand sifted through the flowing curls of her beloved, feeling every current of the woman's thoughts.

"I am here for you, Tanya." Using the spell, she whispered words that embodied their bond. It had ebbed and flowed over the last couple of days but had grown significantly by this point.

There was a long stretch of companionable silence between them. It was just the rocking back and forth like a ship on the ocean.

Finally, Tanya responded. "Thank you."

While the wave-like woman tended to be polite for politeness' sake, Sonnetto could sense that these words had feelings behind them.

Tanya's body seemed to shrink at first, but what actually happened was that the Mandate was sinking into Sonnetto a bit in an effort to get closer. This was unlike when Tanya phased around Sonnetto earlier. The homunculus held steadfast. Her alchemy-conducive skin seemed to drink in her housemate as she did with her arsenal.

It was weird to do this to a person for multiple reasons. When they first did this by accident a couple of days ago, they discovered Tanya could still shift out of Sonnetto's skin. They did not know what would happen if they went all the way. Despite the obvious concerns, it felt nice and right for both of them to be together like this, and they found themselves doing it again in moments of privacy.

Sonnetto sighed as they shared a moment of euphoria unique to the way their physiologies now interacted with each other.

Much like all these changes, the road before them was filled with the unknown and the possible. There was no manual for what they were dealing with, just like Matheus had said. He and Tanya had had to navigate living together and supporting one another after the war. For them, that was figuring out how to be an adoptive father and lesbian, respectively, as well as a decade of war traumas in post-war Germania.

Now, Sonnetto and Tanya had to figure out how to be a homunculus and Mandate living together in a world where another global conflict loomed on the horizon. Together like this, with the walls between them lowered, Sonnetto now realized how much they both feared the powers at be sweeping them into their currents and controlling their lives.

---

Lorelei Note:
Thanks to DrkShdow and Pinklestia for betareading. Thanks to Gods and Kinds for providing advice on firearms. Thanks to Naze, SDarkshine, and Sasika Guruge for art for Khuyana.

I realized after publishing the last chapter that I should have probably included two more scenes from the start of this chapter to the end of the last one. As compensation, I have included more concept art at the end of this chapter for you all. I hope you enjoyed this two parter. I have a lot of anxiety about this chapter or how I do this or that character's design or mannerisms.

I had a lot of commissions of Khuyana and kind of let the artists interpret her as they wanted. There are some inconsistencies between artist depictions, notably between skin tone and such. Below are some additional interpretations.

Original Concept Art of Khuyana & Destripadora by Sasika Guruge

Interpretation of Destripadora's Blade and Tail by Sasika Guruge

Interpretation of Orange-haired Khuyana by Naze

Interpretation of Destripadora's claw by Naze

Interpretation of Destripadora's Blade by Naze​

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Guangzhou, Zhangzi - 12th of June, 1950

Thunder boomed outside as Bak Mei knelt patiently. The angry winds that had come in that day with the foreigners' ship carried the loud conversation of the room next door to the old sage's ears. These merchants were discussing their new "kola" product with Brother Sum and Wang Ya Qiao of the Axe Gang. None of their workarounds for the opium bans of the ruthless emperor concerned the martial artist.

He would be invited into the room soon. He had come with his disciples because the foreigners offered a deal to help with his rebellion against Zhu Chongba. All he had to do was a job for them. Usually, he would not work with the evil Albish merchants who poisoned his country with their drugs in exchange for their precious silver. Still, the job gave him an opportunity to fulfill his vow of revenge against Fang Shiyu. In 1934, the prodigal martial artist killed his master, Lei Lao Ho.

The wind violently changed directions, flowing through the building's air ducts. The winds must have flown past the Star Crag of Memory, for nostalgia crept up in the heart of Bak Mei.

Long ago, people revered Bak Mei as one of the five great masters of the Spirit school, but fate was cruel. An Uruan statesman had given the choice between the death of his disciples and becoming the enforcers of the foreign dynasty. Bak Mei had chosen the latter. Now, his brows had gone white with age just like his former master's had when he died, the Uruan was no more, and the so-called "Radiant Emperor" Zhu Chongba ruthlessly ruled his country, killing all who opposed him as he rapidly consolidated power.

Bak Mei kept his composure despite the tumultuous winds outside. The door eventually opened with Sir George Stanton, his advisors, and sage bodyguards. The bodyguards carried small Zhangzi harps, indicating they used music magic. He did not fear bard sagecraft, for his cultivation surpassed such weaknesses to their magical sounds. The martial artist could not fault the merchant's caution in bringing them to protect him.

"Mr. Bak," the foreign merchant addressed him in the Hong Kong dialect. "I am glad you were willing to help us here."

"Respectfully, Mr. Stanton, the feeling is mutual."

"Ha, very right there," the merchant replied before moving on to the customary small talk. "The trade fair was quite something the other day. I had never seen so much silk. Manufacturing had definitely picked up recently."

"Did you see the Guang Xiu embroidery? My mother used to make such great pieces that we sold to your merchants when I was young."

"Your mother must have been talented, and I did get to see some at the fair. The embroidery will sell well in our markets due to the use of primary colors, which are well-suited to Western tastes."

"Which style of embroidery is to Mr. Stanton's tastes though?" Bak Mei inquired politely.

"While the Guang Xiu is most beautiful, I would have to say the Xiang Xiu….."

They continued the discussion for some time before getting to the real reason for their meeting. The merchant knew enough to start a business with discussions of art, scenery, and philosophy. If one is going to have a serious conversation, it should be done with intention and care.

"Okay, I think it is time to show you the goods," Stanton announced, having gotten comfortable with the great master who exuded the calm of a lake.

The merchant rang a small bell, and an American sage with striking glowing yellow eyes entered the room. The wind blew past her like the storm followed her. Fear that had become as foreign in Bak Mei's heart made itself known with her arrival.

What is she? I don't sense any cultivation, but this…

The stormy woman placed two cases on the table and popped them open. She then took a few steps back. The merchant dismissed her with some words in Albish.

"Who was she?" Bak Mei inquired, noticing the tremble in his voice. The woman had terrified even his disciples.

"Just a lapdog for a partner of mine. Don't mind her. She is properly leashed and trained. As my partner would say, welcome to the big leagues, Mr. Bak. It is time for you to play your role for our future."

Stanton turned the cases around after verifying their contents. Inside were two dozen computation orbs.

"With these Davidson-45s dual-cores, even your weakest disciple will rival a Middle-rank Nascent Soul, granted they haven't finished their dao foundation. They take some time to get used to, but I trust your students will learn quickly."

Bak could accomplish much with this much power and even challenge Zhu Chongba if he struck at the right time. He was a Peak-ranked Nascent Soul. Most of his disciples were still developing their Dao foundation. It might disrupt that, but they would be eager to know what it was like at Nascent rank. Masters like him couldn't use orbs without destroying the foundation, which they never would do.

"What do you want us to do?"

The merchant smiled as he gave the details, ignoring the sound of thunder that caused the building to shudder. The promise of revenge against Fang Shiyu had gotten Bak Mei to come here. Now, it was time to hear the details of his part in their plans. It was so simple that he swore there had to be some catch.

---

Zhaoqing City, Zhangzi - 20th of June, 1950

Fang could not shake his anxiety, for he had left Zhangzi for more than justice and curiosity. He had to conceal his worries. His team needed him to be a good host as they visited his homeland as part of Agent Nichts' workcation experiment.

Glancing over at his teammates, the martial artists saw they had expressions of wonderment like most tourists. Fang felt rightly proud in his great country. Many great wonders existed here among the mountains and mists that protected it.

MI15 walked along a narrow footpath lush with vegetation through the middle of a shimmering lake.

"This is the Constellation Lake." Fang then gestured to the twelve impossibly tall limestone crags. "These are the Twelve Star Crags which make up the constellation in its name. The first Earth Movers created them thousands of years ago, and each houses a temple and the buildings where our higher-level bureaucrats live and work."

"How do people get up there?" Calamity inquired, glancing upward toward the top of the nearest crag. The Mists obscured them.

"You climb or fly."

"What about non-mages?"

"They have the lower-level bureaucrats."

"Isn't that kind of, you know, discriminatory?"

"It is tradition. Here in Zhangzi, everything is earned by the accumulation of accomplishments or through exams. Since Mages, or as we call them, Sages, can learn how to lengthen their lifespans, they naturally have more time to accumulate accomplishments, and their powers make greater accomplishments possible."

Masquerade hummed disapproval. "So a kind of rigged meritocracy."

"Sounds more like a bloated bureaucracy run by a creativity-stifling seniority system," Agent Nichts opined, oddly and problematically franker than usual.

Agent Nichts then popped her neck, stretched a bit, and started presumably attempting to tie her hair back, which frustrated her when her hair presumably did not accept the hair tie. Fang couldn't tell what was actually happening because the Silver Mirror effect made her still look like she was wearing her Nichts outfit, for which the war vet tucked her blonde hair in her helmet.

Fang stifled a laugh. "I will not say you are wrong. Just be kind. My father, Fang Yizhi, has reached Golden Core with only forty-five years of service and after mastering the twelve emotions and eleven desires. He will definitely have questions for you, Agent Nichts, on your reincarnation."

Masquerade and Calamity raised eyebrows.

"It isn't important," the war vet brushed off unconvincingly. "In Zhangzi culture, they believe in reincarnation, and I supposed reincarnated."

"Why do you do this, Agent?" Fang asked. "Reaching the point of cultivation where you can reincarnate is no simple feat. Many sages spend their whole lives working towards such a goal and never succeed. Given your Yang-filled spirit, you must have been a mighty warrior. Maybe a warlord or samurai."

"The Akinese spellswords?" Masquerade inquired.

"The same."

"What do you mean yang-filled spirit?" Nichts pressed.

"You were obviously a man in your previous life. Oh, I wonder what you evil deed you must have done to be reincarnated as a woman." Images of the villainy committed by a terrifying and powerful Akinese warlord played in the man's head.

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

Nichts' mandate hit him like an enraged tidal wave, harmlessly shoving him back a few meters. Due to the narrowness of their path, she knocked him onto the lake. He skidded across the surface an additional two meters. The ki he had spread upon the soles of his feet prevented him from sinking below the surface of the water. He casually walked back to shore.

She quickly siphoned her aura back inside herself. "Excuse me for the outburst. I did not mean to do that. I am not myself without my uniform and a cup of coffee. I will try to keep it inside.

Masquerade, Calamity, and Fang shared a look. They all saw a different but still uniformed Agent Nichts. Masquerade never told Fang what he saw in her, saying he knew it wasn't fair to the commander. The gunslinger of the party had whispered to the martial artist that their former captain looked like a blurry grim reaper with a rucksack full of paperwork and office supplies. It was a horrifying, if bizarre, image for someone to carry in their heart of their commander. As for Fang, his vision of Nichts alternated between the fearsome mind-controlled Tanya von Weiss, who had lopped off one of his arms and featured in his nightmares, and the great Agent Nichts, who was aglow with silver flames of her Mandate and in her costume.

Sonnetto had a private conversation with Tanya, trying to get her to calm down and reinforcing the need to stop having outbursts. Fang would not get hurt by a Mandate, who is still restraining her mana with Tanya's level of untrained skill. It was just that it crossed a crucial professional line for the team.

The team members were all trying their best to be understanding. Tanya did not mean to leak mana at times. Doctor Khuyana Gonzalez had destroyed her Nichts outfit, and Tanya had lost her essential power limiter for keeping her now even more powerful temperamental spirit at bay.

"I don't mind your Mandate, Agent Nichts," Fang pointed out. "It just makes me feel even more motivated to improve."

Clearing her throat, the Germanian war vet continued. "That may be, but I would like you— no, all of you, to respect my privacy and not speculate as to who I am or put me into any supernatural metaphysical framework — religious, philosophical, or otherwise. We have an NDA, and if you have questions, you can speak to our captain and me privately."

"Understood, Mrs. Nichts. That reminds me. As I said, I would recommend that everyone keep any complaints about our society to themselves, especially around the higher-level bureaucrats. If you need to feel the need to complain, you can do so with my uncle Fang Yi'ai and his wife, Princess Gaoyang. They are quite the firebrands themselves."

"Your aunt is a princess?!" Calamity exclaimed, causing her living hair to rise up in excitement.

"She is only the seventeenth of a former emperor."

"Who is the current emperor?"

"Uchaghadu Khan when I left, but I hadn't seen any of the Uruan statesmen around when we flew in from port. Perhaps the Red Turbans were more successful in their rebellion than I thought they would be. To be fair, the Uruan dynasty was on the severe decline."

"I am lost," Calamity stated. "There might be a new dynasty, and that isn't obvious."

Tanya went up to the crag of memory. "Agent C, it is a bureaucratic state. No matter who is in charge, the bureaucrats are really running the show."

This critique caused Fang to burst out laughing and wiped a tear out of his left eye. "That reminds me of something. My father once said: 'If I were required to believe in every policy position I had been entrusted to enact throughout my career, I would be a fervent protectionist and an ardent globalist, a Vassel-state retentionist and abolitionist, a Hanzi grammar school preserver and destroyer, and most of all, I would have to have developed countless personalities just to manage it.'

"My country's greatest strength and weakness is its stability. Few people have what it takes to climb up the ranks of the bureaucracy, but those who take the route of having political power—" Fang drew them all in close so no one else could overhear even though they appeared to be alone. "--is by killing the person in power above you or by staging a rebellion. Yes, politicians can set policies, but the bureaucrats decide how to implement policies and how quickly they should be implemented.

"If you see a statesman, try to avoid getting pulled into their games. I am speaking from experience. People like my father are safe because he is a bureaucrat climbing the ladder of stability. The statesmen will kill you if it will give them an advantage in some ploy. Don't accept marriage offers or money or anything. They will use it to control you."

With that, Fang broke the huddle. He had to give several lectures about his home country on the way there. The lectures about how women should act around men bothered Agent Nichts and Agent Calamity the most. That was unless Agent Nichts wanted to announce she was a Mandate, which would instantly make her the equivalent of a visiting world leader. It was hard to accept that they would have to let Masquerade and Fang do the speaking generally unless they were specifically addressed or the martial artist signaled it was safe to do so. There was just no way to instill the complexity of the culture of the Zhangzi mages, who luxuriated in time-consuming education, which emphasized their long lifespans.

"Oh, real quick," Masquerade interjected. "With all these other Fangs around, we should probably refer to you by your full name. Right?"

Fang had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I don't usually tell people my full name because it bothers me when strangers or non-family refer to me by my given name. Whenever possible, I prefer Mr. Fang or just Fang. It is also already hard enough to get people to pronounce my surname correctly. If you must distinguish me from my family or others, you may refer to me as…"

He took a deep breath.

"Fang Shiyu."

"Shiyu isn't that hard," Calamity commented, getting the tones in his given name completely wrong. The gunslinger's 'Sai-yuk' was better than saying 'she-you' as some reading his name did in the European alphabet, but the mispronouncing grated on the man.

"I will stick to Mr. Fang or Agent Fang as much as I can," she offered.

"Please," he replied, keeping himself composed due to the sheer commonality of the occurrence of this situation back in Europa. To be fair, he also struggled with European names, so he could not fault his colleagues. While he may not have shaved his head like those who had come from the more strict school that was more commonplace in Agent Nichts' past life, the man had pride in both his name and his people's language. Nichts, whose affinity for languages most certainly derived from her Mandate, was the only one on their team who could speak the standard dialect of his country without issue.

---

South America had taken Sonnetto aback with its impossibly vast forests full of creatures she had never seen before. The continent had undoubtedly the "lungs of the world" deserving of being one of the twelve wonders of the world. Khuyana may have said the magic was like computation orbs and alchemy, but she was clearly deemphasizing the differences. From Sonnetto's perspective, nature magic expressed a beautiful world of possibilities.

The alchemist also could not miss that they were going to Argentum (the country of silver) and that they had arrived in the port of Rio de la Plata (the river of silver). Tanya insisted it was just because two of the members of MI54 had volunteered for her workcation project. Sonnetto did not trust coincidences, but there were way too many things to worry about now she was captain until the heat was off Masquerade and Tanya.

As for Zhangzi, the country also felt like it was just going into another world. As Fang had put it to her, thousands of years of magic and culture shape every aspect of a place, from the clothes people wore to the very geography. It was odd to reframe the brutalist architecture and the massive highway system known as the Autobahn of Germania as human-made geography. Still, Doctor Khuyana Gonzalez had called the phenomenon the "Anthropocene" — the era of geology defined by humankind's reshaping of the world. In other words, where Germania shaped its environment according to its democratic modernism, Zhangzi had created a landscape of hierarchical traditionalism. Both countries shared the bureaucratic spirit as the centralization of offices in places of auspicious power indicated.

After Fang's huddle, Sonnetto signaled to the team to line up as they prepared for their climb. With Masquerade at her right side as the vice-captain and Tanya at her left as a translator, it wasn't much of a line with just two people. The Interpol captain from Bactria straightened her back and kept her head so level one could balance a stack of books.

"We will be climbing up the Crag of Memory," she began. "During the climb, Masquerade will be your acting commander, as I will have my hands full for most of the trial. Everyone but Fang is required to climb one of these as we do not have permission to fly in this country yet. If you need a break, let us know. Calamity, I know your enhancement suite may not hold up, so you will be next to Fang for most of the climb. Agent Nichts can still use her dual-core, but we don't know how long that will last, given her unique circumstances. I will be keeping an eye on her.

"Fang says the mists around this crag cause visions from one's past. Be careful not to lose grip. If something is too much, just call out to us. We will know and support you so that you don't fall. As long as none of us fly or are lifted upwards by someone who is flying, we should still be in keeping with the spirit of the exam. Fang can actually catch us if we fall, but you will have to climb from the point you were caught. If you feel like you are at risk of hitting the ground, do not hesitate to fly. It is technically a finable offense, but your life is far more critical. You will have to restart the exam from the beginning if you fly. Correct?"

Fang nodded.

"Okay, any questions?"

"What about his mona…religion promises?" Calamity inquired as she tried to find the right words in Germanian.

Sonnetto gestured to Fang to clarify.

"I can make exceptions for emergencies like rescuing people in danger, training, or combat," he clarified. "If you are falling, that clearly counts as an emergency."

"Your vows are pretty…uh…"

"Flexible," Tanya offered.

"Yeah, that."

Fang Shiyu scratched the back of his head and had quite the smile. "It is the spirit of the vow that matters most. Before I was an Interpol officer, I served at a monastery. I and another cultivator were returning after collecting alms when we came across a woman who needed to cross a river where the bridge had collapsed. I carried her to the other side and thought nothing else about it at the time. When we returned to the monastery, my companion accosted me, demanding how I could break my vows so easily. I turned to him in surprise, for I had put that woman down back at the river. He was the one who carried her all the way back to the monastery in his heart.

"I have a long history of keeping my vow with this 'flexibility', as you call it. Please do not worry. I will catch you without hesitation every time. It is not so much that I avoid contact but that I keep the intent of my vows in mind in my work."

That satisfied Calamity and there were no more questions.

Before they started their climb, they checked their gear. Masquerade had switched out for a mono-core computation orb Tanya had programmed for him since it had the enhancement spells he needed for the climb. As effective as scepters were for illusions, they would not hold up.

In the case of a wave-like war veteran, Sonnetto could tell she had anxiety over her mutations robbing her ability to use computation orbs as they had with Mary Sue. Change was inevitable, as was the half-life of any element on the periodic table. It wasn't as debilitating for a mage as losing access to magic altogether, but it still terrified the reincarnated woman. Soon, the aerial mage she had been would be so diluted by the Mandate's influence that Tanya would lose access to the magic that defined her childhood.

Tanya was going through a kind of second puberty of sorts, complete with a rapidly changing body and new emotions. Her outburst at Fang Shiyu was not something Agent Nichts would have done. That persona almost comically resorted to the cynical and business-like framings. With many of her walls lowered (but not gone), a temperamental ocean flowed out of her.

Tanya not being in charge right now relieved Sonnetto because the still-developing Mandate needed time to adjust to not to her new mana but being without her emotion-numbing alter ego. The waterworks that had burst out of her a few times would have embarrassed the pridefully rational woman too much to keep a level head in the leadership role anyway. Fang did not know how long Tanya would remain temperamental since most of the Mandates were the subject of legend and prophecy. The only way to learn more about how to support Tanya, he claimed, would be to speak to an accomplished Mandate like the current Emperor.

The fact that Zhangzi's Mandate changed hands so often brought up more questions. These questions could wait until they got to the top, where MI15 would not only meet with MI12 but also meet Fang Shiyu's family. Ahead of her and her team were the crag, and those mists were getting closer and closer as they climbed.

Sonnetto hoped the memories they revealed would not overwhelm the long-lived mages around her, who all had their skeletons in their closet. That included her.

---

Laurence "Masquerade" Drake just put one hand in front of the other. The mists had just enveloped his team. While he couldn't see them, the illusionist could sense their mana pulses. Agent Fang had not mentioned how quiet it got. He could only hear his own breathing and the sound of his hands and his feet as they went up the mountain.

Masquerade would have preferred actual climbing gear over the training outfits given to them at the temple nearby. If he were not a mage, this whole endeavor would just seem too risky to conscience. One did not fly without losing a fear of heights. The fact Fang Shiyu had done this at the age of ten boggled his mind. Cultivators really were something else.

The thespian had caught himself avoiding Tanya von Weiss after their adventure in Argentum. Instead of seeing her in her Agent Nichts outfit like most people who had only known her as the Interpol Agent, he saw a prejudicial caricature of a female Germanian mage. She was gross, bloody, and faceless, aside from two white orbs for eyes that demanded her troops commit the most heinous war crimes in the name of pragmatic efficiency.

Sonnetto had supplemented Agent U's theory about how the Silver Mirror worked. Being told that it reflected how people understood her felt like a smack in the face. Was he holding that much animus towards Germanians after all these years, or was it just her specifically that was the target of his suppressed hatred? The question plagued him as Masquerade did not want to be defined by hating any group of people.

That reminded him of the influence of Officer Weiss' supposed Mandate. After being taught how to identify and purge the mana in his system, Masquerade found that the only discernable difference was that he didn't care as much about the various prejudices he had accumulated over his life. When he let the mana into himself, each myopia became an eyesore in his heart. Unlike Doctor Gonzalez, who wanted to be free of hatred and strife, Masquerade wanted just to have his emotions directed toward those who actually deserved it. He saw these shortcomings inside himself as things one could overcome with time and dialogue.

Polyxena was somewhere in Zhaoqing City meeting up with some former colleagues (Angels), with whom the green-suited assassin still had amicable relationships. His lover had claimed that his prejudices stemmed from how he aligned his interests. She claimed that if he aligned himself with the interests of those in power, he would constantly reproduce the prejudices of those influential people in himself. For example, if he aligned his thoughts with Albion during the war, then the enemy was Germania, which remained that enemy after the war as a scapegoat for intentional failures of the powerful to support the concerns of the working class at home. Was it really that simple that he hated Tanya because some politicians told him in order to be Albish, it was his patriotic duty to hate Germanians?

No, he was sure that the war also impacted him. When Masquerade was a spy, he had seen Germanians kill soldiers from the Commonwealth, and it was impossible not to feel something when your people died.

Yet again, that could just be playing the capitalists' game. Nationalism during the war ground up soldiers into a fine paste and lined the pockets of industry with the money of the taxpayer. It encouraged the people to give up their freedoms and let politicians permanently consolidate power into the executive out of patriotic duty. Instead of seeing Germanians as the killers of his brothers and sisters, was it more correct to say that they were all brothers and sisters who had been whipped into a frenzy to kill each other along with artificially created national identities?

Regardless, Masquerade did not want to be a leader like Officer Weiss, who could so easily numb her empathy against people for just fighting under the wrong flag or ideology. Her competence was not worth it if it came with such a loss of perspective. Masquerade wanted to be the face of MI15, even if that meant staying the XO. He wanted that face to be that of someone who did not stoke international conflict but represented the ideal of imagining a better, more united world.

It had just been the thespian and his thoughts for the longest time when he heard something unexpected.

"Let's do the whole combination, this time facing away from the mirror. From the top. A-Five, six, seven, eight!"

It was some director from his past during his early years on the stage before the war. Looking at his side, Masquerade could actually see the man from back there climbing with him. The fright nearly caused him to lose his grip.

"You okay there, Masquerade?"

"Yes, Agent Fang. Thank you."

If the mists just showed me stuff like this, I would be fine.

"I really need this job," a younger version of himself said to no one in particular.

"Boys and girls, attention," the illusory director shouted next to the very real Masquerade. He hated 'cattle calls' as they called them in the industry. They demeaned the performers. "We need only three more boys and five more girls for this production."

"It wasn't a paradise, but everything was beautiful on the stage," his younger self claimed, soothing his bruised ego.

"Laurence, dance 10, looks 3."

Masquerade's face twisted into a grimace. He remembered his first review clearly even now. The reminder only brought back how being directly graded on his looks explained why he never got any of the lead roles, regardless of how talented he was. Showbiz was cutthroat and cut it did to his ego until a very wound man remained.

It partially inspired him to accept that position in the Albish secret service in the first place. He had already internalized his shortcomings. If the war had not broken out, he had planned to go to the plastic surgeon. Some might judge him, but it was his body, and it would have helped with getting more roles.

The mana from Weiss' mandate tickled at the idea of his shortcomings. He could tell now. It pushed him to fight his perceived chains. What happens if those chains are the ones he put on himself?

He and Polyxena had been working on their respective struggles. It was so much easier now he had someone again. It was like that for her, too. He could feel those chains disappear in his heart. They would return if he weren't careful, but Masquerade could finally pierce through the illusions. He was letting a job he had no desire ever to return to affect him now. He would still be sensitive where the chains once were, but he could feel himself move forward.

The mists cleared all of a sudden, and he could see his teammates again. That was when one of his teammates called out.

"Agent M, I need a moment," Agent Calamity Amb said. "This mist is meaner than sin. I promise I will get back at it lickety-split."

"Okay, team, take a break. If you need water or food, speak up."

---

Amber Canary (Calamity Amb) gritted her teeth. While her innate magic was not strong enough to stave off physical exhaustion, she still had youthful vigor. The real problem wasn't the climb; it was the damnable mist.

She could not look away. Calamity Amb closed her eyes, but the mist had gotten into her head, and she could still see that haunting scene. It wasn't her worst memory by far, but it still hurt to see it again.

"Don't…" she said meekly.

"But you look like you could use a drink," Fang Shiyu stated.

"No, I was talking to the water images. Sorry, Mr. Fang."

Fang just stood perpendicularly upon the crag effortlessly. She couldn't see him, but his footsteps were audible next to her. She could see his mana being expended for his cultivation of arts. Still, it was so minuscule that Calamity Amb could swear that the martial artist could probably sleep while performing the gravity-defying stunt.

Scratch that. He probably has.

Sonnetto gave a beep that meant that she wanted an update from Calamity, but contextually, when directed at the ever-child at that moment, it conveyed she would like to know what was bothering her. They had all learned what all the different notes or combinations of notes meant. It had its plus sides and its downsides.

"I see the dead body of an old friend we called Old Cash," Calamity explained in Albish. Her youthful voice hitched a bit.

"The woman you told me about before?" the paperwork reaper Agent Nichts asked.

"Yeah, her. Well, we were out on an expedition. It was the Battle of Greasy Grass."

She took a breath as the mists showed the men move out of the way they all stood, flabbergasted.

"Cu…Duster's Last Stand?" Nichts questioned.

"Yeah, but the Lakota don't call it that, obviously."

She paused, recollecting her thoughts.

"Did she fight too?" Masquerade asked, referring to Old Cash. It helped get her mind back on track.

"No, she was many things, but not a fighter. Libbie Duster, playing matchmaker, hitched the most handsome soldier at the Fort to our good friend Old Cash, who was so full of awkward charm. They had a very loving marriage but no children, which had people concerned that she might be barren—a shame for someone who loved children so much.

The scene played out in front of Calamity Amb in real time, causing her to take a deep breath.

"When we got back from the battle, we learned that Old Cash's appendix had burst or something," the gunslinger continued. "We all knew she was going to die. She asked to be buried as is in her clothes and without her body being cleaned. It went against tradition, but it was her last wish. She passed away while her husband was out on patrol. I tried to stop the other people in the fort, but…."

"They didn't respect her last wishes?" Masquerade inquired. "I am sorry. It must have been hard to see a friend disrespected that way."

"Yes, but there is more," she said. The story needed to be told to its completion. "They had discovered something they had no right to know about Old Cash. They were flabbergasted. She had been with the 7th Mage Cavalry Division for nine years. So was I, but I knew Old Cash and would not let her secret taint the image of her."

"What was…her secret?" Masquerade asked gingerly.

Agent Nichts cleared her throat. "I don't think we should know. If she didn't want people to know, her secret should go to her grave."

Calamity did not know what to think about the whole mess the mists decided to remind her of. "It is complicated. I am not good with this kind of stuff. You know. I don't understand these things. What to say, what not to say."

"It is alright," Agent Nichts said with a voice that carried a wariness in it.

"Let's just say we all made sense out of a lot about Old Cash that day. The civilians and less sympathetic soldiers pilloried her husband, a sergeant. While the Libbie Duster and I tried to help the man, grief and the shaming claimed his life. Libbie made sure he and his wife were buried at Fort Lincolm, but after the fort closed, they moved the two of them to different cemeteries. The people handling the move put her in an unmarked grave. We still don't know where."

Those who understood Albish stayed quiet after that. Soon, they got back to climbing, and the mists of memory remained as thick as ever.

Every time her mind went back to her life at Fort Candor, her heart split in two — one half of her guilt for her sins and the other of her love for her comrades. There was the horror of her sins, for which she refused to forgive herself. She didn't deserve happiness as far as she was concerned when she reflected like this. While forgetting her past would free her of guilt, memories served as her prison. The remainder of her existence would be self-imposed punishment of making up for that which could never be forgiven in her mind.

Calamity Amb pushed out Nichts' mana from her mind. It promised to remake herself into someone new. The mana wanted to free her from being that same naive soldier who had participated in those battles on the wrong side of history. If she could even recognize who she was now, then she would not have to add to the world's misery in her self-inflicted misery. Calamity could never claim that. She was not a good thing; she was a calamity.

Yet the mists taunted her by reminding her of her old friends whom she still loved. It was hard not to feel nostalgic joy in reminiscing about all the wonderful people she met. Most of the mists had taunted her with things she loved in her life, giving her the happy-good feelings she tried so hard not to feel.

Then, the Mists decided to "answer" her prayers by giving her a vision of Old Cash from her life that gave her the misery she wanted.

It took a better part of the day, but eventually, they reached the top. Calamity just wished she could see anyone. The mist was everywhere still for her.

---

The Top of the Memory Crag

I did not enjoy the climb. The mists pestered me by having my past selves berate me for my lack of professional conduct and giving me visions of my father from my first life complaining about my femininity. Sonnetto had worked with me before the trip to process these new emotions. I did not want to hurt my teammates with outbursts, and I did not want to be alone. Denying my feelings would now only get more people hurt. The mists noticed I had pragmatically put my past behind me where it belonged and then promptly left me alone.

I have had more significant problems in the recent past. The telegram I had gotten back from Matheus informed me that the Tax Authority had sent collection notices to the defunct orphanage, which was my last known address as Tanya von Degurechaff. The problem was the current owners did not know who that was. I responded that they should just look at my returns under Tanya von Weiss. Those should show that I paid everything I owed.

Was the government really that incompetent? I know that the chaos after the war caused a lot of bureaucratic headaches, but that mostly gave people less scrutiny, not less. There was supposedly still a backlog from the thirties of cases related to money laundering and other crimes. As for my situation, I could not wait to get home and handle this mess myself.

But I was here in Zhangzi now. I looked around. The desk near the cliff edge was oddly vacant. An administrator should have been there to give us the medallion that proved us worthy of flight. In the distance, I could see a massive recordkeeping building and several cultivators waiting for us.

"Who are they, Agent Fang?" Captain Sonnetto questioned, and I got back to my duty as her translator.

"My past. More specifically, Bak Mei and his disciples. I don't know how they know we are here, but they likely intend for a fight."

Well, that didn't sound good, and I got my dual-core out. The cultivators did not seem that strong. That was what I thought until they all brought out American-model dual-cores.

Sonnetto switched to thought-to-speech and using notes. A thrill of notes commanded Calamity to take cover.

"Where? I can't see anything in this damned mist."

I had no idea what she meant. The mist was below us, and it was a clear, sunny day up here.

Fang did not hesitate as he grabbed her and kicked the desk over to cover for them. Several darts embedded themselves into the piece of furniture.

"Stay put," he told her. "We will help you when this is over."

I had a feeling this welcoming party did not want to celebrate. My new Germanian dual-core crackled with life around my neck. The rest of us, still out in the open, had our barriers up.

"Mister, our fight is not with you," called out their leader in Cantonese.

Mister?

"Then, you should not have attacked my team," I replied.

"We only have qualms with Fang Shiyu. The rest can leave now and keep your lives."

Fang kept his head low as our enemies readied more ki-infused darts. "I was only ten years old," our cultivator called out. "It was an accident."

"Tell that to Lei Lao Ho's grave."

I turned to Sonnetto, only caring about the practical reality that people were going to kill one of my team.

"Clearance C," she announced to the team with a few notes having to go off context clues alone in this conversation. From what they kept going on about, it was really dramatic and over-the-top.

There weren't any non-mages up here conveniently, but rules are rules.

"Assaulting an—" I tried to announce ourselves as Interpol and that assaulting us would be met with force and charges, but fighting broke out before I could.

Sonnetto and I had dealt with worse—this time, we just had the added complication of defending Fang and Calamity. Our Captain signaled Masquerade to go first.

Switching to his scepter, the illusionist summoned dozens of duplicates of us to give us cover. All hell broke loose after that.

Sonnetto and I took to the sky with our clones and started our barrage. She had loaded her pistols with anti-mage rounds enchanted by Calamity. Together, we tore through their ranks, eliminating six in our first run. Then, one of the monks used a guiding formula on a mithral net of all things. It chased the two of us after we thought we had dodged it. It passed through me harmlessly, but Sonnetto got pulled to the ground and knocked out by one of the cultivators' ki-disrupting punches.

With our Captain down, Masquerade had to step up again.

"Nichts to Fang now," he ordered.

I gritted my teeth as I obeyed. My Mandate mana flowed out of me, blasting the cultivators off the ledge who were next to my housemate. They just flew back up, but I didn't care.

---

Masquerade rushed to Calamity's side after Fang engaged Bak Mei.

"Agent C, I'm here."

"I can't see anything," she claimed again.

Her eyes had gone misty white, which was a bit disturbing, but Masquerade had a strong crunch about what was going on.

"Okay, Calamity, listen to me carefully," the thespian started. His mana was quickly depleted as he pumped out more and more illusory duplicates of his teammates to stall for time. "Just like in Fang's story, you need to leave the past behind to move forward."

"I can't. It is important that I—"

"We need you to fight. You told me you wanted to do good in the present. So you have to choose whether punishing yourself with your past is more important to you than doing the right thing."

This seemed to resonate with the centennial mage, but she remained conflicted. It was time for Masquerade to put what he learned from Matheus into practice.

"Agent, I am not asking you to forget the past or the lessons it taught you. I am not asking you to pretend your actions back then were justified or that you aren't affected by the past. I am just asking you to put it aside when it gets in the way of doing what is right. As my father always said, if we never put away our mourning clothes, we can never go to weddings. It is not a betrayal of the past to put it down."

"It is my sin," she muttered.

He knew she wasn't the most religious American, but Calamity definitely internalized her damnation. "Are you going to kill innocent people again?"

"No, of course not. I would never. I would rather—"

"Then, stop punishing yourself like you are the same person."

Mana exhaustion started hitting him quickly. Sonnetto and Nichts had thankfully taken out a lot of the disciples, but Calamity and Sonnetto were now vulnerable. Throwing spells out of his duplicates, he actually whittled two disciples down and took them out. That kept them focused on the duplicates instead of searching for the real casters. It's hard to ignore something that could hurt you.

"Okay…Okay. I got this." Her eyes cleared finally. "Agent M…shit."

The man slumped down as sleep beckoned him. He had a little bit of mana left, but he had to end his spells. Masquerade heard Calamity Amb's triple shot technique with her Colt .45 in the background as he resisted sleep.

---

Flying to Fang Shiyu, I switched to my mana blade. I was out of ammo and did not have time to reload. Their leader successfully saw past the illusions despite them being able to launch firebolts and decided to challenge Fang one-on-one. My blade went straight for him, but then a force walloped me through my barrier, knocking the air out of me. It felt like a giant fist and flung me to the side.

"He is a spirit master," Fang explained. "Don't get close to him like that."

That meant I needed to shoot him. Luckily, my rifle had a strap, so it did not fly off. His skin might be bulletproof, but certainly, some optical formulae will turn him into Waldstatten cheese.

As I paid more closely with my magic senses, I could feel a second body made of mana around him. Much like my Mandate mana, it could exert physical force on those around them. Fang got pushed back but handled his opponent with an exceeding familiarity.

As I reloaded, I checked on my other teammates quickly. Agent Calamity Amb finally got her bearings and neutralized several targets by disabling their computation orbs. She was aware a fight was going on but apparently blinded by the mists still. Sonnetto remained unconscious. Masquerade had taken shelter behind the desk with Calamity but looked to be tapped out. He had gone overboard with his illusions. I would have to get him not to overreact when things look like they are going south.

"Bak Mei, it again was an accident," Fang called out. "It doesn't have to end this way."

"You knew that this day was inevitable," the older man declared. "Look at your team. Your loss is inevitable."

"I…did desire his death, but I did not act on that desire. What happened was still not my intention."

"Then let us see what the gods decide when you are reincarnated. I will let you know. I have trained these last sixteen years to kill you."

I aimed my freshly reloaded rifle to fire. "Sorry to interrupt, but I don't care about any of this."

Bak Mei dodged my optical flares, dashing to Calamity and Masquerade. Calamity dodged out of the way, and his spirit body blocked most of her gunshots somehow. His spirit body then picked up Masquerade as a human shield. I only nicked him a few times, and Calamity had gotten him in the kidneys.

"You coward!" Fang shouted.

I might not like it, but I had to hand it to Master Bak. He knew how to leverage a situation.

Six new mana signatures suddenly zoomed toward our location. Five appeared to be Interpol officers, and one seemed to be a female cultivator who looked like a relative of Fang's.

"Shiyu, I am here!" a cultivator called out.

"This is MI15," said a man, who was probably the captain of the local branch. "Surrender now, Bak Mei and the Emperor may spare you."

"You will have to kill me," the elderly martial artist raged.

That can be arranged.

"What about over your disciples' dead bodies?" the captain threatened.

That works, too. I guess.

The captain pulled out a device and activated it. Suddenly, the computation orbs of Bak Mei's men all turned on their users just like Agent U's sabotaged computation orbs in Dzayer, excluding the ones with disabled orbs. It had suddenly become entirely one-sided.

I was suspicious instantly.

"We were betrayed!" Bak Mei screamed. He was the only one not using a computation orb in his group, so he was spared from sabotage. He threw Masquerade off the crag. I swooped to rescue him since Fang was occupied with defending himself from the martial arts user.

When I got up with the thespian in tow, I watched as a female spirit-body user beat back the enemy leader. She had an alternating white-and-black outfit and elven ears, suggesting that she might work with the Angels who all sported the elven characteristic. Fang and her coordinated attacks flawlessly as if they knew each other well. The woman held Bak Mei's spirit body back, giving Fang access to attack the enemy spirit-body user's actual body. The elderly man could not keep up with the youthful fighter, especially with that wound. Fang eventually knocked him out.

I landed and placed Masquerade on his feet, but he needed to lean on me for stability.

Fang got my attention. "Agent Nichts, I want to introduce you to my mother, Miu Tsui-fa. She trained me until I finished my Dao foundation."

Interpretation of Miu Tsui-fa by Naze​

"Thank you for watching over my son," she politely said to me with a bow. "He has not told me much about you in his letters, but he has said you are quite the warrior. Everyone is waiting to meet you."

"Your son has been competent, Mrs. Miu," I replied, bowing back. I had to adjust a bit. It had been a lifetime since I had done this, and in a completely different body. "I must ask what just happened."

"I can answer that."

Turning around, I saw the captain from earlier. He had fair features, pinkish-red skin, and dark red horns. It was one of the more unfortunate mutations to have demonic features. It usually meant one worked closely with "cursed" magic items and let the mana mutate them. In Zhangzi and Persia, magic item users were quite plentiful. He wore Western clothes with a white turtleneck and a black leather jacket. He wore a black cap. Around his neck, he wore a silent bell.

"My name is—"

"He is the eunuch general, Uruan's enforcer," Fang burst out. By the sound of it, they had history. I will ask Sonnetto to please explain to him that it isn't appropriate to call people eunuchs even if they are.

The captain glared at my teammate. "Now I am the enforcer for our Radiant Emporer as well as your higher ranking officer in Interpol."

After thanking Fang's mother for joining MI12 to apprehend the "terrorists", he addressed me with a bright smile. "Anyway, I am glad to meet you finally. My name is Ouyang. I must say, I was not told much about you by Fang Shiyu's family aside from the fact that you are a commander of great renown in the West who possesses great beauty and fearsomeness in equal measure like a force of nature."

Captain Ouyang of MI12 by Naze​

What had Fang been saying about me in those letters?

---

Ouyang's Villa on the Star Crag of Memory - 20th of June, 1950

Captain Ouyang smiled at the man as he guided him and his team into his home upon the crag. The former general had helped his country repel the Akinese during their invasion in the Great War. He had much interest in Officer Nichts' stories. Few people read foreign news upon the crags. The world beyond the mists mattered very little to them. Captain Ouyang had, however, wanted to impress his guests and had his servants get a tailor to make a Western outfit for him. The bedeviled man thought it looked pretty fetching on him, and he hoped Officer Nichts thought so, too.

Ouyang had once despised women due to how frequently people insulted him for looking like a girl when he was younger. Uruan had castrated him as a young boy for his family's rebellion against their rule before the eunuch policy was abolished in 1924. When the eunuch had climbed the Star Crag of Memory, he had to put away his shame to banish the mists from his eyes. As he surrounded himself with people who did not insult him and respected him as a man, he found that his comfortable spot was a more androgynous appearance. That being said, Ouyang still strongly preferred the company of men over women, and he would have preferred never to have suffered in the way he had.

When they reached the inner chambers, the men and women split up to go to their respective domiciles.

"Where are you going, Officer Nichts?" Ouyang asked when the handsome warrior from the West walked towards the women's quarters.

"I thought, I mean—"

"Follow me. I will show you to your quarters. I told all the servants to expect you. We have much to discuss tonight."

Fang Shiyu had decided to stay with his parents, so it was just the sunburned Masquerade and the stunningly attractive Nichts. The former could not speak the common dialect, so he was not much fun for an evening of drinking and conversation. The latter was everything Fang's vague description suggested and more. Ouyang would be respectful, but he wanted to spend time and get to know the man.

Sitting in his meeting room, Ouyang had his servants fetch the two drinks. Masquerade had retired early due to exhaustion from the climb and the fight afterward. Ouyang encouraged the Germanian to speak freely. It wasn't like Nichts was a woman expected to hold his tongue in his presence.

"I must say Zhaoqing City was quite beautiful," Nichts began in his effeminate voice. Nichts almost sounded like a woman, but his face was clearly that of a man. He even behaved in a quite androgynous manner.

After the two Interpol officers discussed the landscape and architecture, the servants came back and poured a drink.

"Is the alcohol not to your liking?" he asked.

Nichts seemed rather uncomfortable. Ouyang had a hunch about the problem.

"You are what the Westerners call a 'Homosexual'?" he inquired, using the Germanian word his scribe taught him. Nichts shocked response indicated he struck at the insecurity. "I am, too, so you don't have to be afraid," Ouyang continued. "Just be yourself and drink to your heart's content. You are safe here."

His words seemed to assuage the worries of Agent Nichts, and he partook of the offered wine.

Ouyang had a sixth sense about these things, and his sense was telling him now that Nichts was very gay.

The former general then sighed. He used to be like Nichts when he still struggled with his shame. Nichts must have been unsure of how open he could be about his feelings. Ouyang could sense the walls in the other man's mind.

"So what were those sabotaged computation orbs and the magical device you used?" the Germanian warrior inquired after taking a sip.

"Not much I can tell you. The Emperor and his plans are beyond a humble enforcer such as myself. I can tell you that my team obviously went straight to your location to help you the moment we were notified that something was wrong. Mr. Fang's mother was with us as a deputized member of our team. She insisted once we heard that you were in danger."

Nichts appeared skeptical but seemed to accept that Ouyang was just a mid-ranked official and legitimately did not know what was going on. The owner of the villa sensed a storm brewing in the distance.

The rest of the night, they spoke about their pasts, particularly romantic exploits. Zhangzi's language was mostly gender-neutral, so many words required context to determine the gender of the person. From what Nichts said, it seemed like he had struggled quite a bit in Germania due to the culture but had found a nice place to live and date safely. Ouyang did not understand European naming conventions but could imagine all the other mage's former partners in his mind from Nichts' barebone descriptions of the men—their occupations, aspirations, and personalities.

In some ways, Ouyang was envied Nichts' life. Perhaps he should transfer to Germania. Zhangzi did not look fondly upon eunuchs like the former general. The Radiant Emperor was surprisingly lenient, though, and gave him this home near the headquarters of MI12. It would just be nice to date and hold the hand of a kind man in public.

It became clear by the end of their discussion that someone had already claimed Nichts' heart. The poor man did not even realize it. Ouyang had enough class not to hit on Nichts, but he still felt a smidgeon of jealousy. Whoever this person was must have been quite the patient partner to get past the walls of Nichts. The Germanian veteran had quite the flaw in self-sabotaging his own relationships.

They retired for the evening. There was nothing more than that, but Ouyang dreamt about visiting Germania in the near future on his own workcation. Maybe he will find love there. Anything felt possible when he was with Nichts.

---

Ouyang's Villa on the Star Crag of Memory - 20th of June, 1950'

Amber "Calamity" Canary tossed and turned again.

"Would you like a back rub?" Sonnetto instructed with her new-fangled magic. The voice did not come out of her mouth but around her, which spooked Amber occasionally.

Amber sat up and looked at her captain. The other woman's red eyes and white hair reminded the ever-child that her temporary superior had been a lab experiment at one point. Despite Sonnetto's artificiality, she genuinely cared about the family she found on the team.

"It helps Tanya," Sonnetto placated. "The stress builds up in her a lot after a mission, and she becomes restless."

Amber crawled over and followed instructions to have her back to Sonnetto. Her captain had a lot of practice with this.

"You have a lot of stress here," Sonnetto commented while working Amber's shoulders. The gunslinger's muscles relaxed one after another as her captain made her journey across her back. "What has been bothering you?"

"Do you really think Tanya was a man in her past life like Fang said? She didn't deny it when Fang claimed that this morning."

"I don't know. Part of me can't imagine it. When you really get to know the real Tanya under all her layers, it is hard to see her ever being one. Part of me can see an injury related to her past life, so maybe something is there."

"So she really has a past life?"

"It is hard to believe, I know," Sonnetto answered. "But if you ever see the real Tanya, I think it becomes easier to accept."

There was a pause in their talk as Amber enjoyed the euphoria of finally being able not to be sore and comfortable. Sonnetto even worked Amber's arms and fingers.

"When did you learn how to do this?" the Tejan Sharpshooter inquired.

"I have my own kind of past life, though not as dramatic as Tanya's. There were a lot of expectations placed on me, and that came with countless instructors and lessons on this and that."

"They taught you how to do massages?"

"Yes, in preparation for my future."

"What were you? A princess?"

Sonnetto took a deep breath. "I rather would not talk about it."

"Very well."

Amber's Germanian had improved significantly over their trip. Tanya's language boot camp had pushed her towards fluency rather quickly. She still went back to Albish when she wanted to speak her thoughts clearly, but that was becoming less and less of a need.

"What do you think the whole thing with those cultivators was really about?" Amber questioned.

"The official story is that they were terrorists who planned a rebellion against the Emperor."

"What do you think?"

"It was a setup. I have…let's call it a hunch that we were being used."

"We could have died," Amber commented.

"I know. Tanya also noticed it was very obviously off."

"Were those cultivators innocent?" Amber wondered quietly.

"They could have been in some ways, but they obviously had a vendetta against Fang," the homunculus stated. "It is not like we aren't going to protect our team over some mistake they made as a child from some angry mob of cultivators."

"I can't help but think that they weren't expecting to fight a bunch of Interpol agents. Vendetta or not."

Sonnetto went still for a moment before continuing. Every time the woman went from location to location on her massage, she asked permission before starting, but Sonnetto paused in thought and worry.

"Amber, it was my call to fight instead of retreating. I will talk to Captain Ouyang tomorrow and try to figure out what happened."

The American had avoided killing the novice cultivators, but she had to switch to lethal ammunition for Bak Mei. It was worse for Sonnetto and Tanya, who had killed several young men and women that day. They might have wanted to beat Fang to death, but did that mean they needed to die?

"Thanks, Sonnetto. I trust you. I really don't want to be used by this or that government for their dirty work."

They went on for a while longer without much conversation. Amber had finally relaxed enough to be ready for sleep. Before she drifted off and after Sonnetto had finished, the captain of their team addressed Amber one last time.

"Amber, how are you feeling being away from your homeland?"

The ever-child became morose. "I wanted nothing more than to get away from the mess the Silver Legion was getting up to, but…."

"You left a lot of people behind?" Sonnetto inquired.

"Yeah, my sister, especially. We had to watch all our family grow up and die around us. It was hard. We had each other as anchors."

"It must hurt not to be with them."

"It is."

"I know we can't replace your family, but would you like to be family with Tanya, Matheus, and me? At least, so you have someone to live with."

Amber could tell where Sonnetto was heading with this. Living alone was a dangerous thing for someone in Amber's position.

"I would like that. Do you even have room?"

"We are getting a new place. Not only is it crowded with Matheus there now, but our apartment was a crime scene that gangsters found. We have to move anyways."

Amber wanted to ask about what kind of place the Weisses were getting, but back on her side of the sleeping mat again, sleep overtook her. Her dreams were far more peaceful now, and the American veteran didn't feel so alone anymore.

---

The Meeting room at the Palace of the Radiant Emperor - Hangzhou, Zhangzi - June 22nd, 1950

"What do you think of our Davidson-45s?"

An interpreter translated for the American merchant. Emperor Zhu Chongba sat next to his wife, Empress Ma Xiuying. Before the royal couple, a specialized computation orb projected a recording from the battle on the Crag of Memory the prior day. Zhu Chongba was a scrawny and short man with a plain face. Malnutrition in his childhood had left him with lingering signs of rickets despite his Mandate protecting his health. His beautiful wife, who had grown up in wealth and luxury, made for quite the contrast. It was well known that the two had a very loving relationship, though no children yet.

"These are the famed MI15. It was close for a moment, so your product must be pretty effective in getting amateurs to become threats to skilled mages. However, I cannot help but feel that the old master and his men were exceedingly lucky. I know the difference between skill and luck, Mr. Diamond."

"As your string of startling victories indicates, Radiant Emperor. You must know I find your life story very inspiring. Born into extreme poverty, pulling yourself by your bootstraps, and becoming emperor is no small feat."

"I need little of your flattery, Mr. Diamond."

Richard Diamond politely remained quiet.

"What stops you from activating the restraining feature of these Davidson's on us? My advisors tell me that the Unified States will not be satisfied with just the Americas."

"Your spell coders can completely customize that feature. They will tell you there will be no ability for my people to sabotage your computation orbs for my benefactors in the Silver Legion. With these computation orbs, the next generation of sages will have no ability to challenge you."

While many still practice cultivating arts, Zhangzi has steadily modernized to computation orbs. Zhu Chongba just needed to encourage that modernization a bit more.

"You have done us a favor by apprehending Bak Mei and his cell of revolutionaries," the Emperor commented. "What of these Tanechkists and their continuous revolution movement?"

"They are our next target, Emperor. You will find no greater enemy of communism than me and my allies. Plus, the traditions of your people are far too deep for the atheistic ideological product of our mutual enemy."

"And the Albish and their opium?"

"If you signed the treaty with the Unified States opening ports to us, then not only will you have access to our Davidson-45s, but we will get the Albish out of your ports, purge the drugs off your streets, and give you access to a wide selection of American products."

"My advisors tell me that you were recommending this Kola product. They claim that there were drugs in it."

"That was the South Americans. You shouldn't trust them. I assure you that our American products are completely drug-free. Scout's Honor."

"You are very insistent on selling it. Pardon me for my skepticism and confusion."

"Understandable. I am just a very passionate businessman, and I believe my product will be part of the next evolution of our world."

"A dessert drink? I don't understand you, Americans. You sell your drinks. What interests me more is how you recorded all of this."

The smile that sealed deals appeared on Richard Diamond's face. As he would say, you always let the customer think they are making the connections. If they feel you are earnest and that they are clever ones, then they will lower their guard and actually buy more.

"Yes, we have been developing surveillance technology," the businessman explained. "This was just a prototype."

For demonstration, Richard Diamond clicked his remote, and the display flipped from various recording orbs strategically placed throughout Zhangzi with permission from the Emperor's government.

"Imagine being able to see every square foot of your country. These orbs can detect magic usage, and your subordinates can direct your enforcers towards threats before they become threats."

The emperor leaned forward. The deal was as good as done. Zhu Chongba was a paranoid man, and that made him all the more vulnerable. MI15 knew nothing about Diamond Industries' involvement yet, but by the time they did, Zhangzi would already have partnered with the Silver Legion.

---

Royal Chambers at the Palace of the Radiant Emperor - Hangzhou, Zhangzi - June 22nd, 1950

Empress Ma sighed in relief when the merchant left. As they went to their private quarters, Zhu Chongba removed his clothes. It shocked her at first, but she accepted them for who they were. The name Zhu Chongba had once belonged to her husband's brother, but like all those who stood in her husband's way, she claimed their fate and power for herself, climbing from damnation to greatness.

Disrobed, Zhu Chongba revealed herself to Ma and entered their bed. This was a secret side of Zhu that only a handful knew, like Fang Shiyu, who had befriended Zhu Chongba at the monastery and kept his secret. What a big surprise the man would be when he learned that in the last couple of years, his best friend had become Emperor. Zhu Chongba and Fang Shiyu had even shared a bed at the monastery, and his best friend kept her secret the whole time through a series of lucky miracles.

Emperor Zhu Chongba believed the luck promised her deceased brother would disappear if the heavens ever figured out she was not him but his sister. She even refused to think of herself as anyone other than Zhu Chongba all the way to her very core for much of her life, yet there were times Zhu had won the day by sharing her secret with others. By the time of their marriage, Zhu had finally felt safe enough from heaven's eyes to share the woman hiding inside her brother's fate with Empress Ma.

In Ma's eyes, Zhu moved between the worlds of man and woman, depending on which side of themselves they needed to show at that moment. It did not feel right when speaking to Emperor Zhu to call that person her, even in Ma's heart. That person was a man, and the person in her bed now was a woman. They were two sides of the same coin.

"What did you think of merchant?" Zhu Chongba asked, slipping next to her.

"He was dishonest."

"I sensed no lies."

"He did not lie, but he was clearly trying to gain advantage over you. He knows you are consolidating power and wishes to befriend you."

"He gives me a weapon pointed one way so he can see my back," Zhu replied analytically. "Your words always have much wisdom, Ma."

"You sensed the Mandate under his command?" the empress questioned.

"I did. I also noticed the one in MI15."

"Which of Mandates are they, do you think?"

"Their dualities will take me more time to figure out," Zhu admitted. "Diamond is clearly collecting them for the coming conflict, wanting his side to win."

"Then, shouldn't we do the same? You are the current duality of fortune. Your flames tell everyone heaven has chosen you to lead us. With your power, you can tip the scales in our favor. The Silver Legion has no love for our people—quite the opposite. We will need to stand against them eventually."

Zhu groaned in frustration. The Mandate could not predict the future, and like all Mandates, Zhu's was just as much a curse as a blessing in many ways. Her choices would ultimately decide her fate and the fate of her country. Ma would be there to guide her husband through it.

"Regardless of what we do, it feels like Diamond wins, and we lose," the Emperor complained. "He has set Zhangzi up just as much as Bak Mei. If we work with him, he has us siding with the Silver Legion, alienating us from many potential allies. If we don't, the man has something nasty planned anyway."

"Why don't you invite the Fang Shiyu and the other Mandate here? Fang can give us more advice, and the other Mandate might join us."

Suddenly, Zhu swore and hit the pillow. "That bastard."

"What?"

"Fang and the other Mandate figure out that we orchestrated the arrest of Bak Mei with Diamond. The American orbs, their knowing where MI15 was going, and the timely arrival of Captain Ouyang will all point at me. You know my reputation. Fang and the Mandate will think I was just endangering them on purpose."

Ma had to give it to Diamond for creating a lose-lose-lose situation for the Emperor. They had no idea that Fang or another Mandate would be part of the demonstration. They didn't know much about MI15 other than their former captain was someone of great renown. The bureaucrats handled the visit of the foreign Interpol team. Diamond had not conveniently left out that their potential allies were unwittingly part of the demonstration.

"We should still attempt an allyship," Ma recommended. "Maybe they will listen to us."

"We can only try, but I doubt it. Fang's mother has joined the Angels, according to our spymaster. She has even completed their initiation ritual to gain more power and mark herself as one of them. The Tanechkists hate us. There are rumors they are advocating for the end of the imperial government and the whole two-level system where sages rule from the clouds."

Zhu had tolerated the Angels for now. Their Zhangzi branch had not made any major moves yet and was more trying to reconcile their beliefs with Zhangzi culture. Tanechka, like Diamond, had collected some of the world's most powerful mages under her banner, including her own Mandate. Messing with one of the Angels would just agitate the whole hive, and Zhangzi needed fewer enemies right now during the transition from the Uruan dynasty. If the Angels decided to actually act against the Emperor, which side would Zhu's childhood friend, Fang, take?

Even though the stormy Mandate under Diamond's control had left, clouds of worry hung over the two rulers. Ma, thankfully, knew many ways to temporarily banish worries when they were no longer doing any good, and so did her husband.

​

---

Credits:
Betareading: Pinklestia101 and DrkShdow
Artists: Naze and Sasika Guruge
Zhu Chongba comes from Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun.
The Axe Gang from Kung Fu Hustle
Additional Art:

Interpretation of Miu Tsui-fa by Sasika Guruge​

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Royal Palace at Hangzhou, Zhangzi - 25th of June, 1950

We stayed at a hotel for most of our stay in Zhangzi, using the budget we had assigned to us. Unlike in Argentum, where the accommodations were sufficiently modest, Captain Ouyang's lavish villa would resemble a gift from a state actor, given how closely MI12 works with the Emperor. It was essential for Interpol agents to be independent both in fact and appearance. Even if Ouyang had not meant anything by sharing his home with us, we needed to decline to stay with him any longer. Sonnetto agreed with my reasoning immediately, but the rest of the team balked a bit about losing access to the spa-like treatment they were receiving. If they want a vacation and go to the spa, they can just use their own PTO and money.

Additionally, the battle against Bak Mei and all the suspicious activity around it pointing toward America and the royal couple's involvement did not put us at ease. I hated getting involved in political nonsense because people always inevitably misunderstood my intentions. The Mages of Interpol existed to keep the peace between mages and non-mages, not to get involved in domestic or international feuds.

On paper, we were accountable to the non-mages to keep mages in check, or more accurately, we were responsible to the governments to police their mages. This kept non-mages from leashing all their mages. A mage without their magic was not a life worth living for many of us. As for Zhangzi, it was effectively a hierarchy with mages on the top, which was why MI12 in the country functioned so differently from the branches in non-mage governments. In other words, Zhangzi used their team to maintain the dictatorship of the arcane as opposed to preserving peace for the non-mage majority, as in Western democracies. Zhangzi shared some similarities with Tsarist Russy before their communist revolt.

Every Interpol team was ultimately accountable to the League of Nations. Still, countries like to use Interpol to mask their very self-interested usage of the agency under the illusion of being the will of the global community. Zhangzi was just the most blatant if the Bak Mei incident indicated anything.

Germania, thankfully, due to my hard work and others, did not have such a failing. Our country wanted to demonstrate our commitment to international order and that we were well-behaved. They pointedly kept our two branches as squeaky clean as possible. On the one hand, that meant the League scrutinized my supposedly politically motivated actions ruthlessly. On the other hand, they completely ignored that our branches had a hidden agenda of maintaining the cover-up of my true identity. We controlled the outflow of information about the Great War from Germania's perspective and kept the investigators on wild goose chases. I would not call the debt being paid to me by my country a political thing like what Zhu Chongba had done with us in eliminating one of the threats to his rule.

As for my tax situation, I did get some time to send telegrams back and forth with Matheus. He had contacted the Agency. The government accountants handling my case claimed that they had already accounted for my returns under Tanya von Weiss and put them under Tanya von Degurechaff's name. Matheus was having a hard time figuring things out. I will have to contact HR at Interpol when I get back.

I remember getting two checks when we integrated the alter ego system with how we managed HR records to protect the identities of our officers. The Agent Nichts one had been under my old Degurechaff name for some reason. I voided the extra Nichts one and explained to Elya why this was a problem for a whole host of reasons. I never got another extra check after that, so I assumed the issue was resolved. Sending telegrams was extremely slow and inefficient. Again, I can only resolve this when I get back. Without additional signed power of attorney forms, my accountant and Matheus could not dive any further. I did not want a massive bill to my accountant, given the lack of information on our end, so I told them to hold tight until I got back or until they received more explanation from the taxing authority.

Needless to say, my HR senses were tingling, and they were telling me someone needed to get fired if they hadn't been already.

As we got close to the time we would go on the predetermined joint mission, the royal couple personally invited MI15 to visit them at the Royal Palace. We already knew they would request us to go on the mission to act as their bodyguards alongside MI12. It was simply a ritual of formally assigning us this mission, but more importantly, so that the royal couple could attempt to appease us over the Bak Mei incident.

The issue was how sudden the request was. We had other cases planned when we arrived, and the royal couple decided they needed to go to Baghdad themselves. Something was up.

After being taken on a tour of the palace grounds that would have been reserved for visiting dignitaries, which tipped me off that they knew I was a Mandate, we were given a show of Western and Eastern musical performances. The Emperor and Empress had impressed a desire to prove that they had made efforts to allow Western artists and performers into their country in an act of forming mutual appreciation in an increasingly global world.

It did assuage some worries about the Emperor's supposed anti-foreigner stance, given his ousting of the Uruan as "foreign occupiers" and isolationist trade policy in fighting back the Albish opium merchants. How much of that was genuine or just for show while we visited was unclear.

It was not like Zhangi did not deal with foreign powers in the region regularly. There was just a clear anti-Western bias in the Far East at this time. A few terrible encounters over the last century have steered history towards an East-West divide in this world, too. While I knew the Europa of now had many honest merchants and diplomats, a few bad apples ruin the batch, as they say. Northern Germanians had traded in the Far East without much trouble.

Emperor Zhu continued the Uruan's protection racket with the independent nations around his country, which they called the tributary system. Basically, minor states that feared coercive Western encroachment on their national sovereignty would turn to Zhangzi to leverage its military and economic might to scare off these Western powers.

In exchange, the country of cultivators demanded these states recognize the Emperor as their ruler and allow trade with Zhangzi. The whole recognizing Emperor Zhu as their ultimate monarch was not terribly different from Commonwealth Nations recognizing the King of Albion as their monarch while still ultimately maintaining their national sovereignty. The trade agreement came with adhering to Zhangzi regulations and bureaucracy, creating an economic zone vaguely similar to the Eurozone from my previous life. They called the region of Zhangzi and their vassal states the Central Bloc because, from their perspective, they were at the center of the world map.

The Unified States had positioned itself as the kinder Western power before the rise of the Silver Legion. The Akitsuhima Dominion, this world's cousin of Imperial Japan, had purchased several frigates from the Unified States after the Albish decided to humiliate the Dominion with Ablion's much-despised gunboat diplomacy. There was no way the Akinese would participate in Zhangzi's tributary system, and the cultivator country would never let them. The Zhangzi people despised the Akinese after the atrocities they committed against them near the end of the Great War.

Now that Silver Legion was in charge, I had expected them to be too toxic an international partner for most global powers to stomach. Emperor Zhu's ploy with some American military contractors clearly demonstrated that not to be the case. Considering all of this, I was on my toes because there was a mountain of difference between being an ally and a vassal. I also did not want to be escorted into the Silver Legion's clutches. It still wasn't clear what Emperor Zhu's ultimate goal with me was at this point.

During the first night of visiting the palace, there was a fireworks show. Calamity and I did not attend due to our respective traumas; instead, we kept each other company by sharing stories and playing cards. Apparently, Sonnetto offered her a place in our family already, which was something we both had talked about beforehand.

After all the entertainment, the royal couple took us on a tour of the palace gardens for the evening. The summer flowers did not enchant me with their sweet scents and beauty, for I had my mind on far more practical matters. I could do the whole rigamarole of small talk. I prepared several answers for these situations in my past life. It was just something you were expected to do in my first life.

"So, how have you been liking Zhangzi, Agent Fang?" Emperor Zhu Chongba inquired of our Vice-captain.

Once we got through pleasantries, the royal couple got down to business.

"We wanted to extend an olive branch and show goodwill," Emperor Zhu stated, waving some servants to come forward. "And reward you for your victory over Bak Mei."

The first gift included two nearly identical swords with their scabbards.

"These are the swords of love," he explained. "We lend these to the Captain Sonnetto for as long as we will have them. We heard that you are quite enthusiast blade."

Sonnetto graciously accepted the gift with startling practice.

"Thank you, most Radiant Emperor," Fang answered for her. "May your rule last a thousand thousand years."

"You will be interested in the story behind these two blades. Long ago, the blacksmith Gang Jiang set out to forge a sword fit for his king, but the fire was not strong enough. His wife, Mo Ye, offered to sacrifice herself, and before he could stop her, she threw herself into the flames. With the heat of her love, he was able to not only forge the promised blade but two. He named them after himself and his wife. Gang Jiang enchanted the blades to act like a compass when you let them rest on a flat surface, pointing towards the other one. It is said that the two blades will always find a way to be reunited."

The story was less romantic than macabre. The hopefully unintended implications of giving blades made out of a woman's sacrifice to Sonnetto were not lost on me.

The rest of the team received pieces of jade jewelry, fans, and silk outfits. I didn't care much for the silk dresses, much like the ones I had worn for a visit with the Emperor.

Did it really matter what I wore? The only one who could see what I was actually wearing was Sonnetto. I could probably streak through the palace, and no one would even know. I wonder if I look like I have a lot of makeup on my face, like Empress Ma.

Unlike the dresses, the gifted scroll written in traditional Hanzi absorbed my attention.

"This is a copy of the Twelve Mandates of Heaven," Emperor Zhu Chongba explained. "Inside it, you will learn a little more about who we Mandates are and how to manage your powers. I refer to myself as the Mandate of Fortune because that best defines the shape the Mandate took when I inherited my Mandate. Would you like to know more about mandates?"

Fang thanked him and agreed to the offer on my behalf. He had definitely caught us off-guard. While I suspected he knew I was a Mandate, I hadn't actually expected him to help me with being.

"As you discover what your Mandate is, you will have to find reconciliation between the duality it represents. Note that no one word can ever fully encapsulate what your power is. Those two aspects of your duality are elevated in you, giving you blessings and curses in equal measure. People who rally to your side will not only benefit from the virtuous influence of your duality but also give you additional power. When you are just beginning, this can be achieved through direct contact."

And when I have developed more? I asked internally.

"As you follow your Mandate, the sphere of your influence will expand, as you have probably noticed."

I signaled that was the case but did not speak aloud.

"Now the twelve Mandates are in play, the eleven embodied by people like ourselves will eventually grow to become demigods. We can still very much die, but we will be ageless, have much more power to draw upon, and be capable of retaining our memories in reincarnation. Your mana will regenerate through the reverent rituals of your followers, whatever those may be."

Zhu stopped in his explanation.

"Is something displeasing you, Officer Nichts?"

"No, Your Majesty," Fang answered on my behalf. I desperately schooled my features lest I lose my head for offending the Emperor. My face had betrayed my distaste for this situation. I missed my Nichts outfit.

In my mind, however, I thought about how Being X had cursed me with this Mandate. Actually, this whole Mandate business pissed me off. We did not need gods in this world. 'No gods, no masters,' it was said. In other words, beliefs in gods inspired slavish behavior, which I detested. A person can earn your admiration, but anyone who demands worship not only doesn't deserve it but deserves ridicule. Speaking from experience, anyone who threatens to hurt you if you don't love them enough or asks you to change yourself for them doesn't deserve your love. I wanted nothing to do with this whole Mandate worship thing, which ironically made my Mandate mana rankle at the idea of the very demigodhood it supposedly granted.

While I calmed down, the Emperor and Empress exchanged a glance with each other.

"Perhaps we should move on to other business," the Emperor suggested. "My wife and I will be traveling to Baghdad tomorrow for a League of Nations summit on the week of July 19th. We will be taking the Zhangzi Express and will need additional protection for us and the other dignitaries, which only the best cultivators and mages can provide. While MI12 will be sufficient for our needs, we understand you are here in order to develop deeper bonds with our mages and learn from each other."

"That is the case, Your Majesty," Masquerade answered.

"Since you are also headed that way next, not only will you get to your destination without having to fly, but you will get to travel in luxury," Emerpror Zhu added. "We hope that if you ever are in need of allies, you will think of Zhangzi and the friendship we forged during your visit today."

The MI15 policy on gifts required us to transfer them to the branch office. Fortunately, we did not get to keep any of these, with perhaps the exception of the swords, which were on loan. Magical artifacts had a carveout if they had a reasonable work purpose. They would still be stored at the branch office but could be retrieved for missions. Relevantly, the whole team did not want to be tied down with obligations to any head of state, no matter how earnest the royal couple were.

My mana rankled, reminding me that by just receiving knowledge about the Mandates, the Emperor had attempted to wrangle my loyalties. You can't return knowledge once received. It was clear that the Emperor wanted my loyalty most, given this workaround, which he did not employ with the others in their largely ritualized "rewards" for their respective heroics.

We concluded the meeting there. As we made our way out of the garden and back to our quarters to change back into our work clothes, a bureaucrat approached us.

"I have been informed to let you know that the Mandate has been granted the right to purchase and develop land in Zhangzi," he announced to me.

I groaned internally. I had just been given a privilege that I couldn't "return" in any practical manner. I also did not want to offend an emperor, especially one whom his enemies suspect of killing his political rivals under dubious circumstances in his accent to the throne. I had no choice but to accept it.

"Here is a selection of land the Emperor recommends, discounted for her. There is no place safer than Zhangzi if you are worried about war, but perhaps the summer will be a bit too hot this year. We hope you will come back next year. We will treat you very well."

Great, the Emperor knows that my family is moving.

I knew very well that Zhangzi would not be safe. Either the otherworld cousin of my spiritual homeland would invade again, or the communists would finally start their revolution. All this Mandate business meant was that, yet again, there would be even more pressure for me to play a role.

Swallowing my discomfort at all the invasions of my privacy on display, I did the courtesy of looking at the document when Fang handed it to me after receiving the parchment from the official. All of the properties were conveniently listed below the gift threshold, which was another cultural misunderstanding. I expected these kinds of tactics from the Russy Federation, who had the earned reputation, in my opinion, not the officials of Zhangzi.

Then, something stood out at the bottom.

"'Cover your ears during the coming firework show, for it gets quite loud when it is so nearby,'" I read aloud, not bothering with using Fang as a masculine intermediary for that much.

"Oh, that is a mistake," the official explained. "We meant to give you this yesterday, but this is still good advice for the future, perhaps."

That sounded oddly ominous.

"I must also say, Lady Nichts picked such an iconic blue dress," the man continued. "We know you are a real ally of the people of Zhangzi wearing it to the palace like this. We see you, and all wish you safe travels."

I had no idea what he was talking about. My Silver Mirror really was a curse more than a blessing. Closing the scroll, I signaled that I was satisfied with the "gift" from the politicians.

"She is thankful," Fang Shiyu answered on my behalf, which pleased the official enough that he let us be.

This was going to be a long train ride to Baghdad.

---

A Hotel in Hangzhou - 25th of June, 1950

Calamity Amb kept still as Sonnetto applied henna ink on the sharpshooter's arm with a cone-shaped tube similar to what a confectioner would use for decorating cakes.

"This is called a Mehndi tattoo," Tanya explained while waiting for her turn. Sonnetto had her hands and focus directed toward her craft, meaning she couldn't talk. "For most Bactrians, it is only done for holidays and weddings, but alchemists employ these temporary tattoos for their magic."

Sonnetto had recommended the activity when Tanya and her couldn't go to the fireworks show together. Tanya, in her infinite considerate inconsiderateness, had suggested Calamity join them. It was nice being with her newfound family for another activity, but the Tejan could not help but feel like a third wheel in this situation.

Calamity was a straight shooter, so she about had it with Sonnetto. One had to be explicit with Tanya, or she would inevitably misunderstand. That being said, the Tejan did not know that much about the Germanian war vet. There might have been something that explained the excessively patient approach to a relationship.

Looking over to Tanya, Calamity noticed that she no longer saw the paperwork reaper. Instead, she had solidified into someone who was like a mother to Kakania, a daughter to Matheus, and a sister to herself. It was like meeting someone whose self was a composite of all the people they had cared for and had been cared by.

It was even weirder seeing bits of Mary Canary in Tanya's appearance. The two had some things in common. Love for family, for certain, but that was hardly unique. It was their flickering empathy. It wasn't like they didn't care about others, but it was repressed like a defensive mechanism.

Given how she clearly saw a distorted view of Tanya still, perhaps Tejan didn't understand the person behind the Silver Mirror at all. Sonnetto thought the trick to bypass the curse was getting to know the real Tanya. That was only a guess. The team needed more data points before forming more solid conclusions.

I guess this is my opportunity to learn about my new kin.

"What do you actually look like, Tanya?"

"It is a bit hard for me to say," she replied, blindsided by Calamity's forthright question.

"Why is that?"

"Because I can't see my reflection in a mirror and don't show up in photographs."

"It must be a pain to get ready in the morning."

"Yes, it is. I don't really know what to do with my hair, mostly."

Calamity had heard descriptions of Tanya's literally wavy hair, but it was hard to imagine. How much was it like water? How much was it like hair?

"So, let me get this right," the sharpshooter began. "You don't even know what you look like?"

"I only can see what I can without assistance."

"But Sonnetto can see you, right?"

"Yes."

"What does she think you look like?"

Tanya went through the description she had gotten from Sonnetto.

It was still hard to picture and not changing what Tanya looked like from outside the Silver Mirror at all. She would have to try a different tact next time the two had a conversation.

"Sonnetto says she is all done," Tanya translated. "Just let that dry. It will last a couple of weeks."

"Okay, I am going back to my room," Calamity announced when she had gotten permission to move about. "You two have fun."

Tanya was still in the middle of getting her tattoo when the Tejan left. The confused look on her new kin's face was priceless.

Hopefully, those two have some fun.

Calamity had to admit that she liked the intricate pattern inspired by the Tejan origins that Sonnetto picked out for her. While Sonnetto usually did not get this detailed when using the alchemically-infused henna for herself, her skill reflected the years of constantly applying and reapplying the ink she had done for the variety of spells she used for her job.

---

Hangzhou Railway Station - 26th of June, 1950

Captain Sonnetto did not think Emperor Zhu and Empress Ma led their country with much competence. A severe loss of expertise among the political class occurred during Zhu's ascendency to the throne. Without that expertise, Zhu, with his monastic education, was out of his depths. Clearly, Empress Ma had the role of the emperor behind the scenes. All Roxanne's years of training in assisting a ruler told Sonnetto that one could not rule with good luck alone and that his "dynasty" was a train wreck waiting to happen.

Speaking of trains, the Captain of MI15 carried her luggage to an impromptu waiting spot for their group near the Zhangzi Express. Agent Fang and Captain Ouyang had led her and the rest of the Mages of Interpol towards the train carts reserved for them near the Emperor's. The station staff needed time to attach the train carts, so there was a delay before they could actually enter them.

A perimeter had been created by the royal guard in disguise as train attendants at one end of the train station to protect His and Her Majesty's carts from would-be assassins. With the royal couple secreted onto their train cart beforehand, the crowd had no reason to suspect their country's leaders were there. Outwardly, the royal train carriage lacked anything to distinguish it from the other carts for the royals' safety.

Sonnetto could hear the sound of someone playing a guitar and a duet singing in Albish and the common dialect of Zhangzi to a crowd of admirers and hecklers. With nothing better to do, the Bactrian homunculus decided to take a better look at the performers since they were not part of the perimeter crew and had some freedom to move about.

On the way there, she bumped into an American woman who dropped a book. Sonnetto stooped down to pick up the book. The other woman snatched the book from Sonnetto's hands and complained. Sonnetto tried to apologize with her thought-to-speech spell, but the woman stormed off complaining about fakers.

The one playing the guitar was a young female mage who had artificially red-dyed hair, intentionally torn American blue jeans, and a cheap t-shirt, which was haphazardly dyed. Notably, the guitarist had pointed ears. She sat on a suitcase next to her duet partner, an Akinese man in his mid-forties, which indicated he probably was not a mage. He wore more fashionable clothes. Both had multiple pins and bracelets representing all sorts of causes and ideals. They also had a young girl between them who was presumably their child.

One of Zhangzi's officials sneered at the couple, shouting something derisive before heading to the train in a huff, where he passed by an Akinese mage with long ears, at whom he jeered as well. Apparently, Sonnetto wasn't the only one having a hard time.

Two lower-class Zhangzi women watched the performance from the other side. One of them had developed rickets — a reflection of how desperate things had gotten under the Uruan, but found the music enjoyable, unlike her much healthier friend. The second person had a noble bearing, so she may have come from a distinguished family that had been met with hard times.

While Sonnetto let her guard training keep her eyes peeled for threats, Masquerade walked up next to her.

"The guitarist is Odyssia Ono," he explained, pointing at the woman in the briefcase performing. "Next to her is her husband, Ono Tenya. They are quite popular in the Allied Kingdom and Unified States. They are here on tour but are quite the controversial couple, as you can see."

Odyssia Ono by Naze​

"Why did they even bother coming to Zhangzi?" she signed. Masquerade was fluent enough now to understand it. "They are just asking to get heckled or worse."

"They are from America and kind of became traveling musicians after the Silver Legion came into power and declared their family a crime. Why Zhangzi right now of all times? I couldn't tell you."

"What song are they singing?" Sonnetto wondered, enjoying the tune. "I don't think I have heard it."

"This song that just wrapped up is 'Arcane and Evil'," he explained. "The one before this was a cover of 'Tear Down the Silver Legion' from the 'Songs for Jane Doe' album. Now they are playing 'Hero of Labour.'"

"Are the Tanechkists?" the crimson-eyed officered inquired.

Tanya, with a Mehnidi only Sonnetto could see, joined the two at that point and interjected her thoughts. "Close. They're Beatniks who reject the very things that make their little concert possible."

"Meaning?"

"I think Agent Nichts means to say they reject consumerism and materialism," Masquerade clarified. "Some are more anti-capitalists than others, like the Onos, especially in their 'Hero of Labor' song, but I would rather describe them more as pro-labor. They are also staunchly anti-war, which a lot of the songs they are performing now are about."

"Mrs. Ono has the Tanechkist ears, though."

"Yeah, those are new. A lot of their music changed from popular, feel-good music to something much more political after the Silver Legion took control of the Unified States. Some people really hated the change, preferring the old stuff. As for being a you-know-what, I couldn't tell you if Ono actually is, though. While I have several albums on record, I don't actually follow their lives much. I haven't read anything explicitly stating they were."

This made the homunculus think. There was an oddness in the air. She could feel it.

Looking at all the people entering the train, she saw that the commoners were in the front and the wealthier travelers in the back with the bigger cabins. It surprised Sonnetto at first that all these people would be on the same train, but Emperor Zhu had insisted that he belonged near his people. Sonnetto was a former royal herself, but something was off.

As they went to the train cart most of their team would be in, they encountered another group of travelers who seemed to know Tanya.

"We meet again, White Silver," a tall businessman with a deep voice said in American-accented Germanian. "What a happy coincidence."

"I am pretty sure this is no coincidence," Tanya replied.

"I know I can't convince you, but I assure you that it is."

"Sister!" Agent Calamity Amb shouted in Albish before running up to the woman next to the businessman.

Sonnetto suddenly went onto the defensive as it became immediately apparent who this person was — Richard Diamond, Tanya's recent kidnapper. She did not activate her magic, but she was ready.

As for Calamity's sister, Mary Canary, she appeared terribly frail, and not because she supported herself with a pair of metal crutches. It was like she had the physical strength of a non-mage her age or had burnt herself out after pushing herself too hard. Sonnetto could not really place it. Sonnetto could not picture this person as the Tejas Twister who had caught Tanya off-guard and stood up to the Type-95 in a one-on-one.

Mary's frailty could be the surface layer of a duality like Tanya's Silver Mirror was to her true self, Khuyana's outward pacificism to her inner strife, and Emperor Zhu's expensive royal garments to his humble origins. If Calamity's sister could stand up to a quad-core, then it seemed probable that she also possessed a Mandate.

Sonnetto took a deep breath to calm her nerves enough to keep her cool. She could feel a kind and gentle breeze that blew around the elder Canary, carrying the subtle smell of ozone. A bit of static in the air even made Sonnetto's hair stick up. The homunculus would not lower her guard.

"Before you assault me," Richard Diamond tutted. "Be warned that I am here on business for the Unified States. I have diplomatic immunity. You wouldn't want to cause an incident between my country and yours, now would you? Whatever past qualms you have with me will have to wait until my trip is over and you are done protecting us dignitaries and the royal couple. Why don't we have a nice chat over coffee? We can even negotiate the return of your Type-95 if you agree to a visit to Hashington D.C. Your people have wanted to see you."

Tanya ignored the man and instead got into a heated conversation with Mary Canary in Albish on behalf of Calamity.

Sonnetto tapped her thought-to-speech spell and addressed Diamond. "She is not interested in anything you have to offer."

The scheming entrepreneur smiled like he just won.

"It is a long trip across the board to the cradle of civilization for the pawn," Diamond stated cryptically. "Which reminds me, Captain Sonnetto, this is my congratulations in advance for your coming promotion."

"I already got my promotion, and it is only temporary," the homunculus replied, confused.

"We will see about that. Well, I would say it was nice talking, but I can see your White Silver is chomping at the bit for an excuse to kill me." Then, his aides carried his luggage and helped Mary Canary onto the train.

This is going to be a long trip.

---

The Zhangzi Express a day away from Baghbad - July 4th of June, 1950

"Shaken, not stirred," Masquerade told the bartender as Jing-wei, Polyxena, and Calamity Amb chatted at their table in the non-royal dining cart. The Interpol mages slept with the other passengers in the carts closest to the ones with the royal guards inside. The dignitaries had the cart in between their cabins and the royals. The musicians and another civilian actually slept in the same cart as the Interpol agents.

The Mages of Interpol took turns in pairs or groups of three flying outside and guarding the royal carriage. The current team included two members of MI12 - a cultivator and an explosive expert with an alchemy background. Jing-wei, Calamity, and Masquerade would be the next team. Fang and Sonnetto would be next after that.

Agent Jing-wei from MI12 was a tiny woman with some of the most severe mutations Masquerade had seen of any mage. As a magic item user, her changes had "demonic" qualities. Demons did not really exist, but it was really a pejorative towards mages from across the ages who had spent way too much time with "forbidden" and "cursed" artifacts. In Jing-wei's case, she had purple skin and hair, long horns, and a tail with a tuff of fur at the end of it.

Her mutations were so severe that she qualified as an innate mage like Calamity. She couldn't use computation orbs, but she could use magic items with extra affinity than most mages and could store mana in crystals. She wore several such magic items in the form of rings, earrings, bracelets, circles, and an amulet.

Jing-wei also had quite a unique magical arsenal as well. She, they had learned during their training exercises, mastered the ability to create protective barriers with crystal-based arcane wards around herself and one of her allies. While her attack spells were weak and her flight speed slow, they made it up by being very mana efficient. No one had magic item users for their attack power, though. The items tended to help more with utility spells instead, particularly in magical forensics, as Doctor Jones' items did. Jing-wei was actually the ace of her team despite being a jack-of-all-trades with a defense specialty. It turned out that being useful mattered a whole lot more than being powerful in other ways sometimes.

The imp-like mage usually floated around all the time due to her parents having bound her feet as a child, but flying on a moving train was a recipe for disaster. Instead, she used a wheelchair to get around their cabins and various carts during their trip. Footbinding was officially banned in 1912 in Zhangzi, but the practice continued in some areas, including where Jing-wei grew up. During the Red Turban rebellion, Zhu Chongba had given her the privilege of flight despite not having completed the trial of the Star Crag of Memory. After the rebellion, Jing-wei actually finished the trial with a bit of creativity, her team's help, and a few choice magic items.

Jing-wei by Naze

Jing-wei by Sasika Guruge​

Polyxena had donned her "Vesper Lynd" disguise. They had spent a lot of time discussing privately before this mission.

His girlfriend had spoken with some of the angels who still liked her enough to meet with her, and they couldn't say much about the situation, which meant something was going to happen. Silence sometimes spoke louder than words. From Polyxena's perspective, it wasn't a matter of if a communist revolution was going to happen in Zhangzi but how soon. The fickle winds of fortune were changing, and unfortunately for Zhu, his dynasty was doomed before he even got a foot in the door. His ouster of the Uruan only proved that anyone, including a peasant-born man like him, could overthrow dynasties with a movement that hit critical mass at their back.

Masquerade wished it wasn't the case. He didn't want to live in a world where people felt so much rage they thought Tanechka's theory of endless revolution was the correct answer. Neither did Polyxena.

The couple nursed their drinks as Calamity finished her sarsaparilla and got to the end of her story. Her left arm prominently displayed the new henna tattoo she had gotten from Sonnetto. He had seen a few of the tattoos among the passengers and the people at the train stations as the locomotive passed through Bahrat and into Persia.

"So when my sister heard what happened to her husband Wild Will Hitchcock, she ran after his killer Rick McGraw with a meat cleaver because she had left her guns at home. After McGraw's execution, Mary lived in Deadwood with her kids until they had fully grown."

Polyxena and Masquerade rubbed the edge of their glasses. There was an unstated question bothering the two.

"Thanks for the engrossing story, Mrs. Tejas Sharpshooter," Polyxena said while getting up from the table. "Excuse me, but it has been a long day."

"Ah shucks, it was nice telling it to you all. Have a nice rest, Mrs. 'Lynd'."

Polyxena could change her appearance, but for long-term disguises, her face was all she changed to conserve mana. Calamity Amb knew about Polyxena's shapeshifting. The ever-child at least played along with the assassin's game.

When his girlfriend left, Masquerade decided to press the issue on their minds. There were a lot of topics that could not be discussed aloud, such as Zhu's crumbling dynasty. This topic was not one of them.

"So I have to ask, if Mary Canary is such a hero in your eyes, why is she working with a man like Richard Diamond?"

"Diamond?" Jing-wei inquired, a bit lost. "What about him?"

"He works with the Silver Legion as a military contractor," Masquerade clarified. "He also kidnapped one of our team once."

The MI12 member fidgeted a bit. Her familiarity with the businessman was something the thespian could circle back to.

The focus then was Calamity Amb.

"So I don't know the details," she started. "My sister refused to talk, though I could tell there was a lot of hurt in her eyes. We struggled a lot to knit things back together. She has always kind of seen me as someone who scampers off while she has to protect the family."

"She holds you doing your own thing against you?" Masquerade inquired, trying to make sense of things the best he could.

"No, not that. You see, my sister values family above everything else, come hell or high water. We didn't own slaves if you are wondering. My father died after we had helped shelter several people headed north for freedom. The slave hunters didn't take kindly to people like my family. When my father headed out of the house to confront the hunters, the bastards up and shot him in a fit of rage and so-called frontier justice. I was too young at the time to really understand and remember it, but Mary could never forget that being good like our father got you killed.

"After his death, Mary took care of the farm for us. Then, the civil war broke out a couple of decades later, and I wanted to defect to the north. My sister and I got into a huge fight over that. Not because she cared for the aristocrats and their plantations but because she didn't want to lose me. Mary might say it was because she needed my help, but with her husband, she could manage without me, I figured.

"Our ma passed due to the sudden wasting sickness and the stress that the war and our constant bickering caused. On her deathbed, she told me privately that my sister may have inherited our farm, but I inherited our father's heart. I know my sister. She ain't…evil. She is just the strongest and weakest person I know."

"What do you mean by that?" Jing-wei wondered.

"I mean, she is the kind of person who will flip the whole town upside down to protect her kin if she has to but won't lift a damn finger to defend another. Mary doesn't want to get involved in other people's problems because she can't unsee our pa's death. Since I am so much like him, she doesn't want to see me go and repeat his mistakes. Every time there is a call for people to fight for what is right, I always do. Every time I do, it breaks her heart, and every time, she is certain I am going to die."

Masquerade sipped his drink. It was non-alcoholic since they were on the job, but the ritual of it helped take the edge off.

"Well, you are not your father, but I think you are a good person still," the thespian stated.

"You are half-right," Calamity replied. "I ain't my father. I done made all my own mistakes, being naive and thinking that the good guys in one fight would be the good guys in the next. Masquerade, if you are ever in charge again, know I trust you never to order me to point my gun at someone unless it is necessary. I don't always know what is going on from the safety of my gun nest. Sometimes, you know things I don't know about a mission before going into it. You got to promise me that I won't like…you know."

Masquerade took a deep breath. Calamity Amb was her subordinate, and this was a level of trust he was still getting used to having. He could feel Calamity's moral convictions like a rumble of a thunderstorm.

"I promise," he finally answered.

"But why is your sister working for Diamond?" Jing-wei reminded them.

"I didn't know what to think after Tanya told us what happened in Dzayer, but after seeing her and speaking with you both, it makes sense now. There is only one thing that would make my sister work for a no-good son-of-a-gun like Diamond. "

Masquerade paled.

Jing-wei went wide-eyed.

Diamond was probably holding the Canary clan hostage.

---

Fang Shiyu entered the dining cart just as the two teams before his traded places. Masquerade gave him a friendly compliment, but the prodigy could pick up that something weighed heavy on his vice-captain's mind despite the mask. Then, Masquerade pointed downwards, and Fang noticed a napkin in front of him. Lifting it up, the martial artist saw some writing.

Oh no.

Sonnetto came into the room and passed by the two members of MI12 who had volunteered for a duo shift. Her face scrunched up for some reason as she did so.

"Something wrong, Captain?" Fang asked.

She pulled out a notebook and wrote her response rather than burn through her thought-to-speech spell. "They smelt like Semtex."

She did know her alchemy and had a heightened sensitivity to chemical smells beyond what most humans could detect due to being a homunculus. He trusted her to know what she was talking about.

"What's Semtex?" He wrote down.

"Type of explosive."

"Well, Li Tan does specialize in fireworks and explosives in his alchemy. We saw some of the demonstrations during the joint training session. Perhaps he was working on some recently."

"On a train? Mr. Li should know better than to experiment with such things here or even bring any with him on a train of all things."

"Can't alchemists just store it in a tattoo like you? I assume it won't cause any explosions in there."

Sonnetto stared out into the stars of the night sky outside the window. She seemed deep in thought.

Fang had other things on his mind than Li Tan's incendiary views on alchemy, so he passed Masquerade's note to his Captain, changing the subject. She looked like she was about to ask more about Li Tan when the note derailed her track of thought. Her face, always so minute in its expressions, turned into a grimace.

Over the next twenty minutes, they passed back and forth the notebook, which Sonnetto usually used to journal her experiences. They discussed what they could do for Calamity and her blood relatives. They now suspected MI12 might have worked with Richard Diamond in capturing Bak Mei and his disciples as part of some demonstration for Fang's old friend, now Emperor. They opted to be discreet, just as Masquerade had been. The two officers did not know if Jing-wei knew about their suspicions of their team. They also did not want to question Emperor Zhu's intentions too openly while surrounded by pretty powerful mages loyal to him.

Sonnetto would give her journal to Tanya like the white-haired homunculus always did when she finished an entry. That would get her housemate a chance to get up-to-date with their discoveries. Both Sonnetto and Fang suspected something was going on, and it was putting them on edge. With Richard Diamond on board and having to protect the asshole as one of the dignitaries, it was nerve-wracking to say the least.

As for Emperor Zhu, Fang Shiyu did not know what to make of it. It had been years since they had last met. The whole ouster of the Uruan had happened so fast, and his parents hadn't even known what they could legally tell him in their letters while it was happening. It felt like his friend had changed so much, and Fang had a feeling the man-who-was-also-woman may have done some questionable things to get his mandate from the previous owner. The Mandate of Fortune was the only one that did not reincarnate with its user. Instead, it transferred to the one destined to rule in Zhangzi, sometimes at unexpected times. If you killed all your competition, then, of course, it would transfer to you.

Fang also did not know what to make of Zhu Chongba's gender. The people of Zhangzi thought of gender differently from Westerners. Gender was more something you did, a set of rituals. Depending on the interpretation of that, one could think of gender as a set of duties given to you from birth or that by performing those duties, you became that gender. In order to find balance, some Daoist cultivators, for example, sought to balance the yin and yang in themselves by becoming more androgynous in their rituals.

When Fang had said Tanya had a yang-filled spirit, it was that the woman seemed deadset on masculine rituals. The way she dressed, the way she liked speaking, and so on. There was a mixture of things, for sure. That is why the symbol of yin and yang had dots on both sides. Each side contained a bit of the other. Tanya was just very mixed. It was like she balked both at being called a man and the expectation to participate in most feminine rituals that emphasized the passivity and submissiveness of the yin element. Perhaps she was like those Daoists and finding her own kind of balance for her spirit.

Fang got some tea for them both to calm them before their guard shift. As he talked to the bartender, a middle-aged Akinese man and his young, tearful daughter came into the dining cart.

The man said something in Albish, and Fang introduced himself and Sonnetto in Akinese.

"I am Ono Tenya, and this is my daughter Max. She is having nightmares, claiming she feels ghosts outside the train. We came here to get a bit to drink and wait until she can calm down while her mom rests."

The martial artist had a hunch. "May I?" he requested before directly speaking with the child. Upon receiving it, Fang addressed her. "What did the ghosts feel like?"

"I don't know, but I knew they were there. Like I could see them but not with my eyes."

"I am going to use a bit of mana," he stated, mainly for the other people's sake. One did not use magic around war vets haphazardly. The walls of the carriage would block most of the pulse but not all of it. "Did the ghost feel like this?"

Her eyes went wide. "Yes, but not so..um..bright…loud?"

"That is someone casting magic," Fang explained softly and slowly. "Max, it isn't something you need to be afraid of. Magic is wonderful…." He paused because that was a somewhat contested statement, but it was what he believed. He continued when there was no parental reprimand. "What this means is that you can feel magic. It can be quite scary at first because it happens all at once, but don't worry. Every young child like you who has a spark of magic in them feels it. What you saw in your magic eyes aren't ghosts but the souls of the mages."

"So, am I going to become a mage?"

"You will still need to be tested if your parents…want that for you."

Fang had to remember that not everyone thought being a mage was a blessing. Some countries required testing, but not all, giving people the option to never engage with magic. The ability to sense magic can sometimes fade over time if the magical circuits do not fully develop, as was more likely the case with mixed parentage. Testing would determine if the child had the aptitude for magic.

"Is one of your parents a mage?" he inquired.

"Yeah, my momma."

"She will be able to help you with everything you need to know when she wakes up in the morning."

The child seemed to calm down with that.

"Thank you, Mr. Fang," Mr. Ono said before ordering some water for himself and his daughter.

Now, the parent had a different problem on his hands — a child too excited to sleep. Fang debated whether to intercede and help answer questions some more for two reasons. First, he knew the father wanted to go to bed, and answering questions might not help with that. The child would tucker out again eventually. Second, Fang believed that it was best for the magical parent to explain it to their child, much like Fang's mother and father had done for him when his magical senses first developed.

The man decided to leave the father and daughter to their own devices.

"Do you like kids?" Sonnetto asked in her notebook.

"Yes. I know I cannot have them myself, but I always like helping the younger practitioners at the monastery. Do you like children?"

"I can't have them anymore after my change. I have accepted that. I don't know if I will be able to have the maternal instinct anymore, and I am worried about being a bad mother because of that."

He vaguely knew that she had been human before becoming a homunculus. Not being a human did not make her any less a person, teammate, or friend, though.

Then Sonnetto wrote something that surprised him. "I don't know if Tanya wants any."

It was an odd thing to write about your friend, but Fang decided to bite. "Why do you say that?"

"She never seems to know what she actually wants, or rather, she is afraid of what she wants, so she doesn't think about it. Sometimes doing something you think she wants even makes her unbelievably sad."

"Has she ever shown any interest in having a child?"

"The way Kakania (Agent U) talked about Tanya raising her after her parents both passed away, it sounded like having Kakania around made Tanya very happy despite all the other things that had hurt Tanya back then."

"Is that why you adopted Calamity?"

"She isn't a child."

"You know what I mean."

"I think Tanya needs family in her life. People near her, but we didn't offer Calamity a place in our home for us. Our teammate needed family too, and we had room in our hearts and lives for her."

"By the way you talk about Tanya, it sounds like you want to marry her," Fang joked. Her focus on Tanya's needs and making them her own needs reminded the martial artist so much of his parents in so many ways.

Senetto paused a moment and then wrote her response.

"I do."

The martial artist blinked. Sonnetto continued.

"I think I love Tanya."

Fang did not know what to make of that. He knew Tanya might be that way given her past life's influence, in his view. He always assumed that since Sonnetto felt no sexual desire, love was also off the table for her. Fang also had only known the two women for less than six months, but this was a lot to share with him, given all the laws and stigma involved.

How would his old self react? Zhu Chongba had been a surprise, but gender was different — far less controversial, in his understanding. Sexuality was a bigger deal since it struck again at the expectation to conform. Zhu Chongba lived like a man. He had married a woman like a man. He was performing the role dutifully as the old Fang would have thought.

In his view, Sonnetto lived like a woman, and Tanya did that more so than she didn't. Homosexuality, where both partners were the man or the woman in the relationship, went against how Fang had been taught how right and wrong worked. The old Fang would have been disgusted with what would have seemed like a gross inversion of the moral order where everyone has their duties and expectations given to them by society, their family, and their ancestors.

The old Fang would have also thought these iconoclasts were childishly anti-social for attention; after all, children act out by breaking plates and getting feisty in order to get attention from adults. That version of Fang would have thought the subversive outfits like Odyssia Ono's, spikey hairdos like Khuyana Gonzalez's, and mixing of gender stereotypes like Tanya von Weiss's were just adults doing the same thing — acting out for attention. He would have thought these individuals were obnoxious in their individuality and that they shouldn't do those irreverent things in public where they annoyed people who knew how to socialize correctly.

The new Fang, however, found he didn't care as much. He had changed a lot since coming to work with MI15. Tanya had taught him humility immediately after his first mission. With that humility came the ability to open his mind and learn about a new world of possibilities. No longer was he the one conforming to ancient monastic and cultural traditions, as he was in Zhangzi. In the eyes of Germanians, he was the one standing out, being obnoxious, and getting all the attention. While he adjusted some of his behaviors for the new culture, Fang found he liked the person he was and wouldn't stop being the person he saw himself as.

In short, he could not embrace his own self-determination if he did not also accept the Onos and Weisses of the world within reason. There was a difference between someone not following expectations in a harmless way (like Odyssya Ono's clothes) and someone actually being disruptive (like those children who broke plates). One could do a massive amount of harm on a crusade to eradicate all the harmless, unexpected behavior — both on an individual level and on a societal one. Upon further reflection, the fact people like Sonnetto and Tanya did not tell him a lot of the more controversial aspects of themselves meant they not only did not act out for attention but feared it because people like the Old Fang gave them grief for any visibility.

Perhaps the wisdom behind the curse of the Silver Mirror was that we can't see others if we are not willing to accept what lies behind the Mirror in which we imprison them. I will try to see if coming to Tanya in the spirit of acceptance will allow me to see her Mandate's soul self.

After several minutes of companionable silence between Fang and Sonnetto, the child had finally gotten sleepy again, and the Onos said goodbye. This shook them from their quiet contemplation.

The two officers were about to get back into their written conversation about Calamity when they heard a scream.

"Help! A doctor, we need a doctor! My wife has been stabbed!"

---

Lorelei's Note:

Like the Woman on Fire arc, this started as one chapter and bloomed into three. I hope you enjoy them.

Credits:
Betareading: Pinklestia101 and DrkShdow
Art: Naze and Sasika Guruge

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

The Zhangzi Express a day away from Baghbad - July 5th of June, 1950

Calamity furrowed her brow. Someone had murdered Odyssia Ono with some kind of stabbing implement during the time her family had gone to the dining cart. Everyone in Interpol who had someone to account for them was in a closed-off cart with the gunslinger.

The three Albish speakers were on the investigation team until they could clear more people. They suspected the culprit was still on the train because the guards for the royal train cart would have noticed that, so the train had been stopped until they could find the murderer.

"So an inspection of the crime scene shows that there was no forced entry, so either the assailant had a key or knew how to bypass the lock another way," Jing-wei began, using a magic device that specializes in taking pictures. She could quickly flip between pictures and zoom in a bit as needed. "Despite the sloppy way the victim was stabbed, they did not scream, and there are no signs of struggle."

"So drugged, perhaps?" Masquerade asked. "We can ask Li Tan or Sonnetto to see if they can find any signs of chemical residue used on the victim."

"They won't be able to do anything here on the train. They will really need a lab. Let's try to figure out what we can before resorting to that option. Right now, we already know a lot about our culprit with this amount of information. We just need to be thorough and properly interrogate every possible suspect."

They had searched every cabin related to their suspects. Jing-wei's magic item that allowed her to see through objects left nothing in their cabins hidden from her. Several of the passengers startingly had weapons that theoretically could have been used in the stabbing.

"Quick question," Calamity interjected. "Why aren't Agent Nichts and Captain Ouyang here?"

"Agent Nichts has a record of…," the magic-item user began, looking for the right words. "Let's say: less than favorable remarks about anti-capitalists like Odyssia."

"And Captain Ouyang is an enforcer with a…less than favorable work record of getting rid of enemies of the Emperor," Masquerade added.

"So they are both on our suspect list. Who are our other suspects?"

"Vesper Lynd, for reasons," Masquerade started with discipline in his voice so as not to betray his thoughts on the matter. "Richard Diamond and your sister due to the former's relation to the Silver Legion, which has several reasons to dislike Mrs. Ono and her family."

"We also know the American FBI has Mrs. Ono and her family on a watchlist," Jing-wei mentioned. "We have a file on every passenger for the cart nearest the Emperor as part of his security."

"What does it say about me?" Calamity wondered, perturbed by the revelation.

"Most notably, felony draft dodger."

"You know, in this particular instance, I am proud of that."

"So was Odyssia Ono, apparently," Jing-wei added in a bit of dark humor. They all had gone through a lot over the decades, and death was no stranger to them. "One of the reasons to suspect Richard Diamond."

"After him, we have Zhangzi Minister of Enterprise Tang Jian due to his hatred of the Akinese, the American tourist Hilary Crawford due to being institutionalized at a mental hospital earlier in her life, and the Tanechkist Demiguichi Akira due to her hardliner position."

After hearing about all these people, it felt downright suspicious that so many dangerous individuals were all in the same cart next to the royal couple's cart. Wasn't the Emperor's Mandate something that caused good luck? Something wasn't right, but without knowing why, she would have to focus on the case at hand.

"Whose first?"

---

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Tang and Mrs.… Nichts," Masquerade began his interrogation.

The investigation team had every suspect answer questions in isolation on a piece of paper first. In order to figure out who the culprit was, they did the next round of interrogation in pairs with someone who had almost no chance of being a co-conspirator. If someone was lying, they might change their testimony when they heard someone else.

It was awkward, however, for Masquerade to interrogate Tanya von Weiss, which was why Jing-wei was handling his teammate. What bothered the thespian more was that he still saw the monster version of Agent Nichts. He mentally tried to pierce the Silver Mirror but just couldn't do much other than change his former superior into different memories he had of her temporarily. Sonnetto had recommended paying close attention. If he noticed the real Tanya coming out, that would be his window to pierce it, she theorized. Ever since she saw the whole person, the real Tanya has been visible to her. To be fair, all of this was guesswork.

While Tang Jian and Tanya von Weiss had been alone together in the cabin assigned to them by the investigation team, they had gotten along quite well. They both had a lot to discuss regarding capitalism. Tang, in particular, wanted to know everything he could about computation orbs, which was a subject Weiss could discuss in great detail.

"Mrs. Nichts," Jing-wei said. "What is your opinion of the victim and her family?"

"They are hippi—beatniks. They are lucky to have been born in a capitalist country because they would have been killed in a totalitarian government like the former Russy Federation or Jugolavija."

Masquerade frowned. He knew where this was going.

"I agree with Officer Nichts," Tang declared. "Just because you disagree with someone and find communism to be a threat doesn't mean you will just kill anyone."

Jing-wei waited for the minister to stop talking. During an investigation and away from the palace, she didn't have to act passively in front of him. She continued once he said his piece.

"Officer Nichts, our records indicate that you have said, 'Don't let communists spread their filthy plague another centimeter' and 'They're commies. Blow the shit out of them." Would you care to explain your comments?"

"Those are from over a decade ago when Interpol had just formed. We had a communist terrorist cell in Germania during that mission. You also have to remember I had just come out of a war a few years prior where I was fighting the commies. I am a rational, peace-loving, and law-abiding citizen. I am not going to kill someone for singing 'Death to Capitalism' or the Russy Federation national anthem. That is the thing about freedom: People have the right to be wrong and associate with any political group they want. It precisely because we are not communists that we allow this."

"I can vouch that she has changed," Masquerade added. "She has never made such extreme comments during my time with her in Interpol, and I have known her for several years. Agent Nichts conducts herself pro— um… she would not intentionally kill a person who was a communist without reasonable cause."

Tanya von Weiss gave him a look. He was not going to lie. She could not keep her anti-communism to herself in recent memory sometimes. After Sonnetto and Masquerade talked to her about it, she had laid off during work hours and in front of them. No one on their team was a communist, but they sometimes would have to go to communist countries for missions. Tanya needed to act responsibly. She was usually so professional in every other aspect of her life, but not even a god could shift Tanya's views on economics. That was fine as long as she did not tie her views with discriminatory behavior.

"What were you doing during the time of the murder?" Jing-wei continued.

"Writing my response to Sonnetto's most recent journal entry," she stated.

"You were up late."

"I am used to working late."

Jing-wei turned to Masquerade, who nodded. This was all corroborated. It was unlikely that Tanya von Weiss had both murdered the victim and gotten her response written during the short time Sonnetto had been gone. She had given Tanya her latest filled-out journal and switched to a new one when going to the dining cart.

"Did you hear anything unusual?" the magic item user followed up.

"I heard a child crying, and a few doors open."

"Do you know when the door opened before the murder was discovered?"

"About four times, maybe more, after the child must have left the room. The last one right before the scream was probably four minutes before the scream."

Sonnetto and Tanya's cabin was between the Onos and Masquerade's cabins. She was the closest to the scene of the crime and could overhear everything.

"Did you hear the murder?" Jing-wei pressed.

"Maybe. There was a swear like someone stubbed a toe. I try not to pay attention to what people say or do in their cabins."

She gave her vice-captain a look. The thespian cleared his throat. Regular near-death experiences left one rather stressed. They had the decency to be as quiet as possible.

The MI12 agent ignored the two agents' private conversation with their eyes. "Could you tell if the voice was male or female?"

"No, it was too faint, and when people whisper, it is hard to really tell."

After a few more questions, they switched to talking to Minister Tang Jian. He wore a uniform with a blade at his side. The man definitely had the weapon to commit the murder.

"What were your opinions of the Onos, Minister Tang?" Masquerade began.

"I will be honest, too," he answered. "I didn't care for them either."

"Because they were communists?" Tanya von Weiss asked her kindred spirit in capitalist fervor.

"No, because they're little Akinese devils," he ranted without any provocation, using a common slur and causing Tanya to go wide-eyed. "They have no right to walk on the soil of my country after what they did to my people."

Tanya suddenly became incredibly uncomfortable, which caught Masquerade's attention. Then, suddenly, it all happened at once before he was even conscious of what he was seeing. He saw Tanya's wave-like magical hair and her blue and black clothes.

Oh no…. He had known she was Akinese in her past life because of Fang Shiyu, but the rare flare of the inner emotion was so incongruous with the image of Agent Nichts, who shouldn't been so bothered, that Masquerade could slip through the opening made and see past the Silver Mirror.

Jing-wei decided to continue the interrogation because Masquerade had gotten distracted.

"But would you have actually killed the Onos?" she asked.

"Like my friend here," Tang answered. "I am a rational, peace-loving, and law-abiding individual. However, if I were not, I wouldn't have killed the American. I have no qualms with Americans— or Germanians, for that matter."

He said that last part towards Tanya, who scooted a bit further away from him in the double seat. Niato had not frightened her so much more that he had discomforted her. It was hard hearing such things, even if people don't intend to direct them at you.

"I think Agent Nichts needs a bit of air," Masquerade interjected. "Jing-wei, would you conclude the interview with Mister Niato?"

"That wasn't the…very well." The magic item user dismissed them.

Masquerade held the door for his current subordinate. While it was nice to see the real her after over a month of dealing with the vile caricature with which the Silver Mirror had plagued him, the circumstances could have been better.

They got off the train. It sat motionless on the tracks between some Persian wheat farms. Some passengers had gotten off earlier, but now it looked like the staff had started evacuating everyone from the locomotive. Tanya watched the organized emergency procedure with a satisfied expression. All of MI15 had been trained in how to safely clear a building or train to reduce the risk of civilians and non-mages getting in the middle of a deadly mage fight.

"How are you doing?" Masquerade asked while taking in the scene before him.

"I am good," Tanya replied with a heavy voice. "I don't know what to say."

"I like the hair, by the way."

That seemed to do the trick, and his former superior relaxed as if she wasn't trying to be someone else anymore. "Thanks." She seemed to genuinely smile like she had a good cup of coffee, read something interesting in the paper, or had a piece of expensive chocolate. "It is definitely not military regulation."

"I know the Germanians allow female soldiers to wear their hair longer since they were usually nobles."

"True, but I also did try shoulder-length hair during the war, actually," Tanya replied, getting a distant look in her eyes.

"Did you grow your hair out again because it did not suit you?"

"It was something the person cutting my hair decided, and I let her do it because it made her happy, I think."

"You two must have been close," he stated.

"Impossibly close." Tears formed in the edge of her eyes, which she wiped away. "But we went our separate ways. She wasn't the right person for me, and she struggled to accept the real me."

"That must have been hard."

Masquerade took a moment to offer her a hand to hold, which she took. He swore he could feel the literal duality of joy and fear of being oneself flowing out of her and into him. The thespian had never done something 'so unprofessional' as holding hands with his former superior, but she seemed to be like a dam, which let her feelings flow out slowly while holding back immense pressure.

"I became Agent Nichts — the persona, I mean — in order to keep her in my life. I thought if she hated who I was, that I would be someone closer to who I used to be. Someone who didn't have any of the things she disliked. She had admired the old me so much, or perhaps she feared my old self."

"Did this person stay, though?"

"No. Things happened. I killed someone close to both of us during the Kaiser's Men coup."

"Mind-controlled?"

"Yes, but I didn't know that. I was working off pure instinct and training. By the time I registered the mana signature as his, he was already dead."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like."

"She left after that. I think they were going to get engaged. A middle finger to her parents to marry whoever she wanted. She knew I struggled with being around anyone she fancied. I didn't realize I could get jealous or mad about such things, but as Elya explained to me, sometimes, when you don't know how you are feeling, you let things go too far."

Tanya rubbed his knuckle in thought. There was a rawness to this story as if it was the first she had ever told it, which might have been the case.

"What happened next?"

"She went back to her parents, who found her someone who didn't have any of those desires that made her skin crawl. We never directly talk to each other after that. Elya is kind of our intermediary. I didn't even know she had three kids until recently. I would say I wished she was happy, but it is hard, you know."

Masquerade sort of understood. Tanya had been hurt in all of this, and that hurt turned to bitterness.

Clouds started to gather above them, and an unseasonal icy wind blew in from the north, which nipped at their cheeks.

"You never forget your first love, I think," he explained, letting her get nearer due to the chill. "I am sorry it ended so poorly for you."

"I don't know why, but after everything that happened and all this time has passed, I can't stop thinking of her. Some days, I desire to go back to that battlefield where I didn't even know I was in love with her. Somedays, I want to go find her and tell her off and explain everything that happened plainly."

"Why don't you go talk to her?"

"Because it would be childish. I should just be able to move on like an adult and stop caring."

"Well, it doesn't seem to be working. My mother once said that you need to be a child first before you can be an adult, and honestly, being an adult can be a bit of a drag."

Tanya's ocean-like hair roiled with thought. "What are you getting at?"

"What I am trying to say is that perhaps you should let her know you want to get something off your chest and tell her exactly how you feel. That might allow you to move on."

Tanya was quiet for a while after that. It dawned on him that moment that he accidentally said something a bit insensitive. Tanya may have never actually gotten to be a child, given her war record when she was still a little girl.

"Okay, that is my daily quota for touchy-feely stuff," the woman suddenly declared, but he sensed she decided to do something about what she felt. "If you don't mind, I would like to know more about this Vesper Lynd person and how you keep finding all the different people to spend the night with while we are traveling. Again, you don't have to share since it isn't any of my business, but don't you have a girlfriend named Jane Forger back in Germania?"

He tried to salvage his reputation while not outing his girlfriend to Tanya as a shapeshifting assassin on Albion's payroll, especially with so many potential eavesdroppers nearby. It did not help that he had to quickly remember the cover story for each persona Polyxena had employed while doing her day job. (Night job?) Tanya was an Interpol officer. That meant sleuthing as well, and she smelled some bullshit in his incredible luck in meeting so many old friends who had similar silhouettes. (Polyxena had different clothes, each of which somewhat changed her body shape without relying on magic.)

Then Captain Ouyang ran up to the two from the Germanian branch. He had come from the crowd near the front of the train. Calamity and Fang interviewed him with Mary Canary, while Masquerade and Jing-wei were with Tanya and Jian. Both of them had solid alibis. Ouyang had been communicating to someone at the front of the train via a spell, whom Fang said vouched for him. Mary Canary struggled to move, and it did not seem like her unexplained condition was an act.

Using Tanya as a translator, the captain of MI12 addressed the thespian.

"The Emperor requests you to perform for him. His Majesty wishes for you to speak to me about the details immediately in private."

Now, what is this all about? There is an investigation going on. This better be more than just entertainment.

As Tanya and Masquerade headed off to somewhere private to discuss the request with Ouyang, the Albish man had Fang Shiyu let the other investigators know he would be busy. He hoped Jing-wei and Calamity would be fine with him being absent from the rest of the investigation.

---

It peeved Jing-wei that the Emperor had taken an officer off an active investigation, but when the Emperor speaks, people obey. It was not her place to question the divine will of a Mandate holder. With the train parked in place, the magic item user could fly as much as she wanted again instead of wheeling around the train carts, which were not designed for wheelchairs. She could walk, technically; however, she could only do so incredibly slowly and somewhat painfully.

Jing-wei had been born and raised in northern Zhangzi, where foot-binding was far more prevalent. Almost every girl in her hometown had their parents crush and bind their feet. The magic item user was no exception. Those who didn't wear specialized shoes that gave the illusion their feet had been bound.

Primarily, foot-binding symbolized a girl's willingness to obey. You can't run away from your husband if you can't run, after all. Jing-wei's mother and grandmother had also gone through the same ritual in preparation for their puberty and marriage, so the ritual also served as a bond along the matrilineal line in a twisted way. The doctors recommended foot-binding, claiming that by crushing the feet, the blood would flow away from the feet ("where it wasn't needed") and up to the womb to assist with childbirth.

A lot of women also did labor-intensive craftwork. Being stationary and needing food meant that they were a lot like those electric-powered machines that churned out products to be sold. The main difference was people have feelings.

Actually, it would have been a blessing to be born a machine, Jing-wei had once thought. Machines don't get fixed by being bashed and kicked. You have to treat them well to get them to work.

Then, a miracle happened, and Jing-wei developed immense magical powers despite having two non-magical parents. Her life had suddenly taken a different direction. She could not easily follow the path of cultivation like most other mages (or sages, as they called them in Zhangzi), so utilizing magic items became the natural choice. The problem was that her family just could not afford such expensive things.

That was where the Red Turbans and Zhu Chongba came in. After a string of impossible victories, the man who became the Emperor came to her with looted magic items from the defeated Uruan forces. Suddenly, Jing-wei had more magic items than she knew what to do with. None of them knew how to use them correctly at the time coming from below the clouds, so Jing-wei went a tad overboard. Now, she looked like an imp. Life then said goodbye to marriage prospects and hello to the world of flying through the skies and fighting Zhu's enemies.

The Emperor had really changed her fate, and mostly for the better.

Now, she and Agent Calamity Amb needed to interrogate two suspects. They were outside because Captain Ouyang and Captain Sonnetto had ordered everyone off the train for some reason. No one was allowed to get back on, and a perimeter had been set up. The Royal couple were the only ones not to get out.

Fortunately, the investigators had already searched all their suspects' rooms. They had Demiguchi unlock her cabin first. She had weapons (mostly archery-related), but the investigators expected that. She definitely could have stabbed the victim. It wasn't a stretch that she might have some knock-out drugs being with the Angels. Crawford opened her cabin next. Her door didn't budge the first time she entered her key, but it did work the second time. Nothing of note other than her medications. No murder weapons were found.

"Thank you, Mrs. Demiguichi and Mrs. Crawford, for your time."

After going through questions about what they remember (nothing, claimed to be asleep), the questions went to motive. Demiguichi Akira, fortunately, was reasonably fluent in Albish, but they would flip to Zhangzi's southern dialect whenever Albish proved inadequate.

Demiguichi had long black hair, elvish ears, and horns, indicating that she was not only a mage but also specialized in magical devices. She had an archery kit in her apartment and wore a modified kyudo uniform. She was also quite tall and muscular, as one would expect for an archer. In keeping with the Tanechkists' image strategy for swaying people to their cause, their Angel had an appealing appearance.

Original concept art of Demiguichi Akira by Sasika Guruge

Interpretation of Demiguichi Akira by Naze​

Jing-wei knew well enough that beauty often concealed thorns. MI12 had intelligence that the Russy Federation had directed the rural Zhangzi communists towards Akinese weapon and computation orb stores. The Akinese had left them behind in the northern portion of the country where Jing-wei came from during their rapid retreat at the end of the war.

The communist Angel sitting across from the two investigators just so happened to have come from North Zhangzi before getting onto the train. The Emperor had not preemptively arrested any of the Tanechkists, believing doing so would only make them martyrs of them. Still, MI12 and national law enforcement kept a close eye on them whenever the communist propagandists entered the major cities.

"Mrs. Demiguichi, what was your opinion of the Odyssia Ono?" Jing-wei inquired, searching for a motive.

"I admit I do not listen to Western music very much," Demiguichi started humbly. "From what I know of her now, Mrs. Ono sang of her family, peace, and the grievances of labor from the perspective of her home country. While her music isn't to my taste, I can appreciate the aspirations behind her words. I can also lament faults in them."

"Faults?" Calamity stepped in.

"Influential people like Mrs. and Mr. Ono know class struggle exists, but they persuade people to embrace lesser resistance that does not change society into one that truly loves and cares for its people."

Demiguichi leaned in closer as if they were having an intimate conversation between friends.

"I do not need to tell you, Mrs. Jing-wei, of the plight of peasants in Zhangzi, devastated by the cruel oppression by the landlords, warlords, and compradors," the Angel began in a voice rich in the affectations of emotion and enlightened understanding.

"But Mrs. Calamity Amb," she continued, turning to address the ever-child more directly. "I beseech you to go out into the countryside where Jing-wei is from. Speak to the people there, and you will find hearts overburdened with suffering. The shop assistants will talk to you about how their pay, which previously had supported their families, now falls behind as small pay increases only happen every few years, but prices rise every year. The poor farmers will tell you how they have lost their land, and the handcrafters will say that they can't find work. These people, inevitably possessing nothing but their bodies with which to make money, have no choice but to sell their labor for the longest hours, at the lowest wages, and under the worst conditions.

"As hardship makes itself known on their overworked and regularly endangered bodies, does the inevitable enfeeblement not become a cruel death sentence for these people as without their bodies, the peasants have then nothing left for their oppressors to exploit for value anymore? Does your heart not go out to these people and push you to join up in solidarity with them?"

"Please stay on subject, Mrs. Demiguichi," Jing-wei stated. "How does any of this relate to your thoughts about Mrs. Ono?"

"Because her advocacy for pacifistic resistance will never free people from this suffering," Demiguichi replied. "We don't live in a fantasy world where the ruling class in the clouds will suddenly grow a heart and nicely oppress their peasants."

"But ain't Mrs. Ono part of your group?" Calamity questioned, confused.

"Sadly, no. Her ears, like her music, give you the mere illusion she is on our side. I do appreciate that she signals her support for the Angels by modeling herself after us, but I am afraid people will conflate her views with ours as you have just done. I am sure Mrs. Ono believes she is making a positive difference. Still, as we Angels see it, she and her family profit from the grievances and Unionist slogans she repackages in her songs while stifling meaningful change by calling for peace."

Jing-wei heard a rub in Demiguichi's voice and latched onto it.

"You must hate Mrs. Ono then," Jing-wei posited. "'A class traitor,' you call them, right?"

"No, I don't hate her. If I wanted to kill someone, don't you think I would have gone after Tang Jian or Richard Diamond? Our complaints about Mrs. Ono are nothing compared to our grievances for those two.

"Jing-wei, as you can see, I travel in peace and merely spread the word of our cause. As an Angel, I am really but a stone to our movement, which is as vast as the Eastern Sea. It will not be a mere individual stone alone that will make a real difference but a rising tide that will sweep away the Tangs and Diamonds of the world. When that tide finally settles down, the people will be left upon shore, finally saved from their drowning under their now banished oppressors. This is why I do not strike anyone as an individual, even if they are our greatest enemies."

The metaphor played on the myth for which the officer's parents had named Jing-wei. The communist's use of it had taken her off guard, for as far as Jing-wei was aware, the communists rejected the supernatural as counter-revolutionary. They wanted people focused on material reality, not searching for guidance from the heavens and clouds.

Zhangzi had deep cultural roots full of myths, recognition of the auspicious, and forms of worship. The Emperor did not sit upon a throne of gold but of culture and history. While Jing-wei thanked Zhu for raining blessings of good fortune upon her that had transformed her life, her faith in the Emperor existed before that. He had the Mandate. That meant so much to her and many people of her country. Jing-wei could not imagine a successful revolution that wholly rejected the culture of Zhangzi, which was why Demiguichi Akira's decision to couch her ideological sales pitch in mythology troubled the Interpol Officer.

Putting that aside, questioning the Akinese archer yielded no helpful information for the case, so Agent Calamity Amb took over to grill the American tourist.

Hilary Crawford was middle-aged with a bit of a receding hairline of brown hair. She wasn't a mage either. She wore a blue Zhangzi dress from a clothing store that was oriented toward selling merchandise to tourists like her. A well-read, dog-eared novel was always in her hands. It had a bookmark wrapped in its pages by the looks of it. Her husband lived in Aloha, but Crawford had come on this trip alone. She had wanted eagerly to travel spur of the moment despite her husband not having the time, according to her testimony.

"Okay, it is your turn now, Mrs. Crawford," the ever-child started. "Could you tell me your thoughts on Mrs. Ono?"

The woman fidgeted a bit. "Well, I was a big fan of Odyssia Guthrie's work." Guthrie was the victim's maiden name.

"What were your favorite jingles or ditties of hers?"

"There Comes the Moon, Will It to Be, and Hello Rudy," Crawford replied energetically and immediately before adjusting her glasses.

"Did you go to any of her music gigs?"

"Four. It was expensive, but I saved up for it."

"Did you go on this trip to see her?"

"No, it was a happy coincidence. When I heard she was going to be on this train, I just had to see her perform. Wouldn't you have taken advantage of the opportunity if your hero was performing nearby?"

Calamity paused, writing some things down. "Did you interact with the Onos at all during this trip?"

"No, I made sure to give them space. I don't want to be an annoying groupie. Odyssia Guthrie would not have liked that."

"What did you think about the concert at the station?"

"I needed to get on the train right away, so I didn't get to see much of it. I could not compare it with the other performances I had seen."

---

Richard Diamond put on the best distraught patriot expression he could as his friend Henry Pulitzer took his picture. The cameraman was a renowned yellow journalist whose sensationalist headlines could whip the public into a frenzy. Sometimes, that was burning down the Persians' places of worship. Other times, it was starting a war. Pulitzer's father had actually played a significant role in getting the Unified States to go to War with Ispagnia over their colonies in the Aztec Gulf by spreading the false story that Ispagnia had blown up an American frigate.

Diamond's family had made a killing selling arms during that war. President Hoosevelt had actually been a soldier during that war. Let's just say Diamond's father maneuvered successfully during Hoosevelt's administration to lock in a lucrative relationship between the political class, the Diamonds, and the Pulitzers.

Richard Diamond and Henry Pulitzer grew up as neighbors and went on to inherit their respective fathers' businesses. Instead of the Reconstructionists, it was the Silver Legion who lined their pockets. While there was a certain nihilistic joy in profiteering, the two both did have their deeply-held beliefs about how the world should be run.

"Try defiant," the newsman instructed, and Diamond changed his pose with his fist upheld.

They wanted the child for the photoshoot; however, both Interpol and the Aki refused to let Diamond or any of his associates utilize the child. They would have even compensated the parent to exploit his kid. It was only fair when profit was at hand, and crying girls who looked Northern European enough really were the lifeblood of journalism. As Henry would say, 'If it bleeds, it leads, but if she cries, it flies.'

Instead, he had to pose for the pictures himself. His handsome mug wouldn't be nearly as effective in feeding their bloodthirsty base. Their customers had such a high demand for sensationalist fear and hate that if you didn't provide enough, they would find a competitor who did.

Henry finally put down his state-of-the-art camera. "Okay, I think that is good."

"Make sure to use the surname Gutherie for the mother, leave the child unnamed, and don't mention the Aki," the businessman explained. "People are more familiar with that name, and we don't want to come across as endorsing her relationship with the Aki."

"We also want to evoke her earlier, less controversial work with that name."

"Moreso, Odyssia Gutherie is her legal name," Diamond corrected, referring to the fact the victim was not legally married as the Unified States banned such unions.

"Got it, Dick," Herny replied, jotting down a few notes on a notepad. "What about the title, though? I was thinking of 'Singer-songwriter Struck by the Shynos'."

Shynos was a slur for the people of Zhangzi used by Americans. It was supposed to sound like Rhinos, which dehumanized them and, in turn, made getting people to shoot them easier when the time came. Diamond's favorite was 'Zhunks ', which alludes to skunks, but it was harder to alliterate with a Z.

"I like where your head is at with the alliteration, Henry, but it is dull." Diamond scratched his chin in thought. "How about: 'American Pacifist Slain Before Child, Are the Reds or Shynos to Blame?'"

"So the angle you want is basically: 'Our enemies are too irrational and savage for peace, so war is the only option.' I can work with something like that. We will get it in the presses as soon as I can get to an image transfer grid. They have one in Baghdad, right?"

"Hardly if I know," Diamond said with a chuckle. "We will have to find out when we get there."

Henry was about to say something when three individuals rudely interrupted — an imp, a child, and a beauty.

That gives me an idea for a movie I should pass along to Walter.

"May I help you?" the opportunistic entrepreneur inquired.

"It is your turn for your interview," the little Canary stated tersely. "We just finished with Vesper Lynd."

"Okay, ask away."

"What was your opinion of Odyssia Ono?" the child questioned.

He did not respond.

"Diamond, please answer the question."

"I do not believe I have to," he countered. "As I should not have to talk without my lawyer present."

"Do you have a lawyer with you?" the imp inquired.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Never leave home without him. You know what it is like. Nasty things happen all the time here under the lawless world created by Interpol and the League's incompetence." He turned to the crowd in the distance where his lawyer was waiting for this moment — a bit of stagecraft. "Johnny, it is time."

He turned back to the bite-sized officers. "So little girls, this is Johnny Coughlan, my lawyer."

They fumed a bit at Diamond, but there was not much they could do. Insulting them, even to their face, wasn't an international crime. They were mages, so the need to hold back went doubly so in this messed up world that demanded they act weak. It was fun seeing the sparks coming out of the imp's eyes, though. It was like she was a living battery of magic.

Angry Jing-wei by Sasika Guruge​

Hopefully, with them all riled up, they would be distracted by him and not put their noses where they didn't belong.

He made to walk away with Henry Pulitzer when his left shoe got stuck and came off his foot.

Squelch

Richard Diamond frowned as he pulled his shoe out of the muck. He would have to replace these shoes at this rate. They had all had to go in the chill and mud.

Then, two more Interpol officers approached him.

"If you have questions, please speak to my lawyer," he told White Silver and the Pawn, speaking in Germanian.

"We aren't here for the interrogation," White Silver stated as if addressing some villain. "We have come to bargain."

That last bit would make for a great movie line—another thing to forward to Walter.

Something was making White Silver extra angry today. He was surprised she had come dressed in that toga, but if she was going to reference famous artistic depictions of White Silver, the toga was much more tasteful than the mural the leader of the Silver Legion painted of Xanu creating her. Tanya was sending mixed messages with the tone of her words and her choice of clothes. Was she an enemy or an ally of the Silver Legion?

While Mary Canary was nearby, she would be useless right now if there was an altercation. Diamond wished he could find a way to magically make employees able to work 24/7 without needing rest or getting broken. Such a panacea for the great sin of idleness would be the second-greatest gift he could possibly give to the world. Finding ways to make employees more productive indirectly meant Diamond was more productive.

One could correctly say that he was one of the hardest working people in the world if they counted all the innovations in making his businesses more efficient and cost-effective. Honestly, a busy and productive evening golfing with the president generated more wealth for Diamond than what one of these Interpol officers would earn in a century. That was capitalism working, separately the lazy, unproductive people like these officers of the law who just lacked the brains and work ethic people like him had. Truly, they would all starve to death in their own ineptitude if not for noble, generous people like Diamond making life possible for them.

Well, except for White Silver, but the poor genius had been tricked by the non-mages into thinking she was less than she was. It would take time to correct that. Hopefully, she would prove less stubborn than the Elder Canary.

"You have come to the right person if you want to do business," he replied, switching gears and forgetting about his shoes. He dismissed Henry so that he could be a bit more private. "Oh, don't look at me that way, White Silver. I am your ally and friend here."

"You kidnapped me."

"I saved you. You had fallen asleep on a building that was about to explode, which you caused, mind you."

"You tranquilized me."

"You didn't come in announced. I have the right to have someone else defend me. Why is that so hard for you Interpol officers to understand."

"You handcuffed me to a chair on your private jet."

"The handcuffs were for your own safety. You weren't acting rationally and were a danger to yourself and others. Sadly, you were so crazed that you leaped out of a plane mid-flight to safety. You could have died."

White Silver seethed, making him just get more smug in the power he had in this situation.

"Really, I can keep this up all day," he explained.

Diamond suddenly heard the sound of a mighty wave building up behind her, though she saw nothing there.

So, is her Mandate associated with the sea? Interesting.

"I remind you that mage assaulting a non-mage is a serious crime," Diamond explained. "So is threatening one with magic."

While he privately included himself among the mages of the world, the businessman didn't technically have enough magic talent to qualify as one by Interpol standards.

White Silver grabbed the Pawn's hand and took a deep breath to calm down. Homunculus then tapped its weird tattoo. Diamond's skin crawled from the unnatural movement of the alchemical ink crawling upon its skin.

"We are not here to fight," the Pawn spoke.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, we are here to do business. What is it that you want?"

"We want Mary Canary and her family to be set free."

"What if they like working for me and don't want to leave?" He countered.

The woman and homunculus blinked in confusion, which gave him such smug satisfaction.

"You know not everyone blindly hates the Silver Legion like you. Are you going to cruelly force proud supporters of mine to leave their gainful employment to go somewhere they don't want to go?"

"Then we want you to stop threatening them to control Mary," White Silver announced. "And those who want to leave, let us retrieve them."

"Those are some fairly slanderous words to say without evidence, White Silver," he replied while gesturing to Johnny, who was just one of his expensive lawyers. "You should know better than to say things like that around me."

"You know what we mean," the blonde retorted.

"I don't think I do, but I could assist some of my employees and their families in relocating. There is one problem: what do I get out of all of this?"

The Pawn from the Cradle produced a piece of paper with the two's proposal. He read it but then quickly crumpled the paper and tossed it.

"Sorry, I don't have time for unserious proposals," he stated, resisting rolling his eyes at the two.

"But I thought you wanted me to visit the Unified States?"

"'A week, predetermined locations.' You are valuable, White Silver, you know that, but a week of your time is not worth what the Tejas Twister is as my employee. Come back to me when you have an offer enticing enough for me to part ways with one of my most valued employees."

As she and it left in a self-righteous huff, the two pint-sized investigators called most of the suspects together. It was time for the grand conclusion to this most unpleasant delay on his train ride. He should ask for a refund for his ticket.

---

While Agent Calamity Amb, Agent Nichts, and Captain Sonnetto discussed something, Jing-wei did her final review of the evidence. This whole investigation had been so exciting, too. She felt like a brilliant judge from a Gong'an novel.

Once Calamity Amb came back only long enough to call all of the non-Interpol suspects together, the gunslinger explained that she needed to do something with a much higher priority, adding that Jing-wei should get this wrapped up quickly.

The ace of MI12 could do this on her own. She floated by the eight suspects.

"We have figured out who the killer is," the floating Northern Zhangzi mage declared proudly.

She walked up to Richard Diamond. "You were our most likely suspect when we started. Your advocacy and material support in assisting the Silver Legion purge communists and their sympathizers from the Unified States gives you plenty of motive."

"If you are searching for an anti-communist, then I am guilty as charged," the man joked. "President Yockey and Senator McCleney have done such a fantastic job picking through our universities and government administrations with a fine-toothed comb for all the seditious subversives, pansy-loving pinkos, and disgusting degenerates. Our methods may seem extreme, but as I always say, if you want to get rid of the weeds, you have to pull them out from the roots. With a highly contagious mind virus like communism, you can never be too thorough in your management of the garden the Lord has bequeathed us. Unfortunately for the Zhangzi, one of our weeds has learned to migrate like a mold to spread its disease."

Jing-wei cleared her throat to get the interrogation back on track before continuing. "You pinned the death of Odyssia Ono on the Zhangzi and communists, so her death served your political purposes."

"Hitting two birds with one stone. Again, if you are looking for someone who knows how to use every opportunity the Lord provides, then you will find no better master of the art than I. As I say, every life and death has value, even beatniks' deaths."

The magic item user rolled her eyes at the businessman's aggravating antics. He clearly believed he was immune from consequences and was better than everyone in that room.

Floating on, Jing-wei addressed the next most suspicious individual.

"Vesper Lynd," she began. "You were the second person that has gotten on our madar. Your neighbors mentioned you were rather active during the night and regularly left your cabin."

"What can I say? It is hard to fall asleep at night when you are used to working the graveyard shift."

Demiguichi coughed uncomfortably.

Jing-wei sighed. "Please be serious, Mrs. Lynd."

"I am always dea—, ahem, very serious."

The investigator shook her head and went on. "Your written testimony states you were a winner at a high-stakes game of Tejas Hold Em in Montenegro, which funded this trip from the Balkens and back."

"Yes, that is correct," Lynd replied with a look of concentration on her face. "I always know when to go in for the ki-win during a card game. Zhangzi was quite nice, but I am di-trying to get back home."

"But we heard from Agent Nichts that you met Agent Masquerade at the docks with your luggage."

"I was—"

Jing-wei held up her hand. "Sorry to cut you short," she interjected, earning her a quickly repressed chuckle from Lynd. The magic item user pulled up an opal-like device and poured a bit of mana into it. "The reason why your story doesn't match up with reality and your records are so squeaky clean is because you aren't Vesper Lynd."

Gasps erupted from Tang and Crawford.

"Rather, you are the assassin, Polyxena Mironova."

More gasps came as her device dispelled the shape-shifting spell and revealed her real identity.

"Your room may have seemed spotless to anyone else," Jing-wei continued. "But my magic devices picked up all your hidden daggers and chloroform."

"You know it is quite rude to out people like this," the woman in the green suit chided with a miffed expression. "If you know who I am, then you must know I am also not the killer."

"Correct," the lavender imp replied. She had to admit it was more because she had never done an unmasking before. It did add to the drama. "Mironova would never take on a contract to kill a musician. Honestly, I am surprised Diamond is still alive."

The man in question tugged his collar. His mortality was standing next to a master assassin with a terminal case of the puns.

"You are sharp, Agent Jing-wei," Polyxena replied. "All I will say is I have my reasons."

"That may be, but for the crime of using fraudulent documentation and smuggling lethal weapons, you are hereby under arrest," the investigator retorted and then clapped twice imperiously. "Guards, take her away."

As the guards took hold of the assassin, she made her parting remarks. "I guess this is my cue to exit stage right. Wait, we are going left. Dammit, let me try again, please. I can do better!"

Jing-wei imagined the assassin saying something about how she 'would have gotten away with it, too, if not for you meddling mages', but the Russy woman simply misread her line. Mironova at least had the sense not to make a bigger show of things by resisting despite her less frustrating but more irreverently unserious antics. The magic item user had a feeling that the assassin did not seem particularly worried about failing any prison time.

"However, we still have a killer among you remaining four," Jing-wei pivoted and started drifting down the line away from Diamond and the gap left by the green-suited woman. "There was a crucial flaw in Diamond and Miranova's respective motivations shared by everyone — there was always someone they would have killed before they would have gone for the throat of our victim. Namely, everyone would have killed Demiguichi Akira or Richard Diamond first if they felt the inclination for murder last night."

The two most killable people from the train cart paled a bit.

"Well, everyone except our American tourist, Hilary Crawford. She is the only person who has no overriding reason to kill someone else."

When the investigator reached the person she truly suspected, Jing-wei noticed that something was missing from the culprit's book. She had been gripping tightly throughout the whole investigation.

"Wait, why me?" the woman from Aloha demanded.

"We noticed that you refused to refer to the victim by her name and only appreciated her earlier songs, which means there must have been a reason for that."

"It isn't a crime to use the name you associate with her best music. Anyways, how would I get into the room? Surely one of these other people could have broken into the room with their magic or something."

"That would be a good point if we didn't figure out that you had two keys. When you struggled to open your door to show us your cabin, you used the wrong key the first time, didn't you?"

"The other key was for my bags," Crawford counter-claimed with a notable pause. "I also don't have any weapons like these psychos."

The other suspects let Crawford's last remark slide because they each assumed that Crawford was just referring to everyone else except for them.

"Give me your book," Jing-wei commanded, stretching out a hand.

Crawford took a defensive posture but handed over the tome.

"You had a fairly bulky bookmark in this when you were carrying it earlier. The bookmark isn't there anymore."

"I lost it. You know how things can get misplaced during a trip, especially with all of us being pulled off the train like this."

Jing-wei then put her thumb on the edge of the pages and rapidly went through the pages until the crease in the spine stopped. "We suspect that some of your medication was actually used to knock out your victim when you noticed your chance to attack. However, if people are not convinced by everything I said before, this should clear everything up."

She turned the book around for everyone to see. The pages were smattered in blood with the outline of a knife. "You kept the murder weapon in your book until an opportunity arose to strike and then tossed the weapon somewhere after you realized the risk it posed to you."

A shadow fell down Hilary Crawford's face. "Demiguichi was right. Odyssia Guthrie is a faker! I used to think she sang such beautiful songs, but it turned out that they were all a bunch of lies. Fakers like her are the absolute worst. She deserved to die, but I am not going out without a fight."

Then, the murderer raised her hateful glare at the investigator. "You know what, you are a faker too. A devilish faker who is playing detective and bluffing with your hunches."

Then, the murderer lunged at Jing-wei, getting a face full of arcane ward. It really was nearly impossible to get the jump of Jing-wei with her powerful warding magic. The Royal Guard quickly interceded, taking the madwoman away and putting her under watch until she could be processed appropriately for her crimes.

Jing-wei smiled, proud of her hard work that day. It was nice being able to do cases more like this where there weren't high-stakes mage battles. Before the League of Nations insisted that she join Interpol to keep an eye on her, Jing-wei worried about never getting away from constant combat. While the world still expected her to fight for it (as did the Emperor), Interpol provided variety from the monotony of protecting aerial mages with her wards. Her magic items had so much more to offer.

Happy Jing-wei by Sasika Guruge​

She was about to go into another speech about her brilliant detective skills when Tanya came up to her.

"This better be worth it."

---

Lorelei's Note:

I love writing Richard Diamond. I had a boss a lot like him in the past—a complete fraudster and racist ass who was really proud of his constant workcations, golfing, and going on cruises.

Credits:
Betareading: Pinklestia101 and DrkShdow
Art: Naze and Sasika Guruge

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Next to the Royal Train Cart of the Zhangzi Express, July 5th, 2024

"Okay, this is worth it," Jing-wei stated.

The second-in-command of MI12 and I had gone to the royal train cart together.

"Do you see it, Jing-wei?" I inquired before biting into my chocolate-flavored protein bar.

I had a feeling I was going to need the calories. Mages always kept treats like this on them, and Sonnetto had ordered everyone to prepare, which included refueling. Magic rapidly burned through calories. If you didn't correctly eat before a fight, you ran a greater risk of mana exhaustion.

It was another reason why attacking an unprepared mage gives the attacker an extreme advantage. For example, Bak Mei came at us on the Star Crag of Memory not only without food in our bellies but after we had just finished a mana-intensive climb. We were lucky that only Masquerade had tapped out.

"Yeah, this is a bomb," the Zhangzi magic item user stated after scanning the royal cart with one of her magic items.

Magical devices like what Jing-wei used had the plus side of being better at specialized spells than computation orbs and traditional European foci. You could think of them as computation orbs whose entire inner mechanisms were dedicated to a specialized purpose. They sacrificed versatility at the individual device level, but nothing stopped a person from using many different devices. They also typically did not have the risk of exploding like computation orbs could if mishandled. Modern magical devices were primarily made for non-combat mages.

There were two kinds of magical devices. First were items that the mage fed mana in order to activate. Doctor Jones in Argentum utilized these types of artifacts and items in his work. These were harmless to their users.

The ones that attuned to the user were far riskier. They were soul-bound like the Type-95 was for me. You could not be unattuned unless you died, and they could only be used by the soul-bound user. They were generally far more powerful than their more modern, unattunable cousins because they could store mana (called mana fixation) and use it in enormous bursts.

Soul-binding was the secret to mana fixation, which was why my cursed, one-of-a-kind Type-95 helped me overcome the gap between myself and real talents like Jing-wei. Mana fixation was also what made some of these occasionally ancient artifacts have a practical use even in the post-industrial era of magic. What made them dangerous, however, was that if you were attuned to one that was too mana-intensive or had too many items at the same time, you ran the risk of being killed by constant mana exhaustion.

The fact that Jing-wei had several such attuned magic items and comfortably had mana to spare meant she had to be one of the more powerful mages in the world. The side effect of all these attuned items was, of course, her significantly altered appearance. Being attuned to magic items meant she couldn't use European foci. The League of Nations preferred to have such top mages as part of Interpol, where they could keep an eye on them and train them to be a regional asset for peace instead of a tool for war. Jing-wei had minimal choice other than to join a country's military or Interpol. I definitely was glad she wasn't with the revolutionary traitors like some of her team had proven to be.

Jing-wei was currently puzzling about what to do about our bomb situation. We let her know our plan.

"Do you think you can remove the bomb safely?" I asked.

She was the only one with barriers graded to handle these kinds of situations, though she lacked Li Tan's training in disarming the devices.

"Yeah. Did Li Tan really do this?"

"Yes, and Wu Gongfu," I explained. While Jing-wei and Calamity did their investigation into the murder of Odyssia Ono, Sonnetto and I had suspected a bomb threat and acted accordingly. Captain Ouyang shared our worries. We evacuated the train, which caused the two traitorous Interpol agents to bolt through the wheat fields when they realized we did not do this because of the murder. Since we were in a kind of bind, having so many civilians whose safety we needed to prioritize, we didn't give much chase. The two traitors got away in the end.

Ouyang was in contact with the royal couple, who were hiding in a different train cart far away from the troublemakers in the back. Emperor Zhu apparently claimed the traitors' escaping could be helpful. As the captain of MI12 explained, if revolutionaries thought the royal couple had died in the now detached royal cart, the people would not become targets.

Jing-wei sighed. "This is a remote-activated Semtex explosive. Get back twenty meters and cover your ears."

Even with my barrier activated and supplemented by one of the arcane wards of MI12's ace, it was better to be safe than sorry. I moved back as instructed and applied a noise-dampening spell. Jing-wei then put on ear protection and got to work. She made herself float parallel to the ground and went below the royal cart where her x-ray ring had picked up the rigged explosives.

She had already done a sweep of the rest of the train, and we had determined the rest of it was safe. We disconnected the royal cart and had the rest of the train pull a safe distance from the suspected carts. Ouyang then handled getting people back on the secure part of the train, which pulled up a bit forward just in case our two communist infiltrators decided to come back.

Snow had started to fall on the ground despite being in the middle of summer, and dust got pulled up into dust devils along the road. Most everywhere else, the ground had gotten muddy, and trekking around the train had not been fun for anyone who could not fly. Every nerve in my body told me to be ready for something big to happen. Our two Interpol Captains signaled to stay frosty.

Suddenly, the royal cart exploded in a massive ball of fire. I had not even fully registered the mana pulse that had activated it. These long-range magical devices just did not create enough noise to be easily audible to my mage senses, much like communication spells.

Out of the fire floated a rather smug Jing-wei. While her disarming attempt had failed, the woman had an almost obscene pride in how indestructible her barriers could be. Her arcane wards were her invention, charged by her mana. They were not infinite. She could only spare a few crystals for her teammates at a time. The ones on Jing-wei flew around her like she was a textbook depiction of an atom. We had opted to be safe rather than sorry when removing the explosive, and it had paid off.

Jing-wei in Full Barrier Mode by Sasika Guruge
(Yes, her tail is safe)​

Standing majestically next to her appeared to be an unphased 'Emperor Zhu' and 'Empress Ma'. Masquerade had taken cover in a nearby field and created the illusions to deceive our suspected communist revolutionaries just in case some were watching the whole ordeal in the distance.

That hunch proved correct when an enemy sniper shot at the 'Zhu', but unfortunately, the 'Ma' illusion seemed to jump in the way. Two more shots happened. One was at 'Zhu', and another was from Calamity counter sniping.

"Stay down," our sharpshooter called over the communication spell, warning us of more snipers. Calamity had a gunner nest somewhere. I did not know where precisely, but it gave her a good view of the whole battlefield. My guess was the grain silo was not too far away from the tracks. We were all relieved that we had had enough time to get the civilians out of the way. We were doing our best to keep the fighting as far away from them as possible.

We didn't know if Tanechkists had gotten involved or not, given Demiguichi's presence on the train.

We knew better than to trust our barriers against anti-mage sniper rifles. Calamity had tested her ammunition on Jing-wei's wards, and it pierced them like paper, devastating the MI12's ace. While she prided herself in her utility belt, nearly impenetrable barriers had made her iconic. Sadly, as the magetech industrial complex amped up for World War II, the terrifying American invention became more widely available. Jing-wei will have to find something to replace her wards or find a counter for the anti-barrier enchantment.

The ace flew into the wheat field. We didn't know how much our enemies had caught onto us. We couldn't be that subtle since we had to prioritize safety for those uninvolved in the attack. They had likely prepared their assault during our risk-reducing measures.

As far as our enemies were concerned, they did not see the royal couple leave the train cart, but they hopefully did not know that the royal couple was not in it. The royal couple was somewhere else that only Captain Ouyang knew. I suspected the other passengers, which was problematic for different reasons, but this explained why all the most dangerous passengers were grouped up near us.

Our enemies must have triggered the explosives while they still could. They needed to see the 'royal couple' die, not because we wanted to spread panic but because we wanted to minimize the risk that our enemies might go searching for Emperor Zhu on the train that should be heading far away from us right now.

"Fang to Ouyang, how many mages do you see, and in what direction?"

"Ten to the east. Three are flying away. Seven are converging on our location." Ouyang was also a magic device user but specialized more in madar systems. He operated a bulky madar that he had on the train to give us precise information on our enemy outside the range of our mage senses.

While he would eventually get out of our range being on the train, his job was two-fold. One was to use his device, and the other was to protect the train in case our enemies decided to go after it instead of our decoy imperials. It was likely that our enemy had not expected us to stop the train here, but Odyssia Ono's death had mucked up things on their end. They must have had to move from their previous ambush point, turning a fight we might have actually lost to one we might win.

"Were the snipers' mages or non-mages?"

"Non-mages, but they could have just not used magic yet."

"Shit." This time, it wasn't shit because we didn't have clearance fight back but because that meant we could not detect their precise location with the madar. There was a reason non-mages had an advantage in sniping with the right equipment. They could see us, but we couldn't rely on mana signatures to find them. I would have to thank Jing-wei later for sparing another ward to Calamity, whom the enemy would want to take out first as our biggest threat. The ace had given MI15 a lot of her resources in this fight.

"Agent C believes these are Akinese snipers or at least people using Akinese rifles," Fang said on the inter-team channel. He was handling communication between teams for MI15.

"Any Tanechkists?" Ouyang questioned.

It was a relevant question. Masquerade had let Ouyang know that the Tanechkists could spot Calamity even when she didn't use her mana. MI15 didn't know how they were doing, and they detected mages so easily on the battlefield.

"They might have surveillance drones," Ouyang added with some unease in his voice. He said 'drones' in Albish. I wasn't dumb. I knew who had taught Ouyang about drones.

"Fang to Ouyang, Agent N wants to know how to take out drones."

"Ouyang to Fang, I don't know. It was just something we could have purchased."

I stayed tense. Any moment, Calamity could get shot if they found her location. She needed a vantage to shoot, which also meant that her nest would be visible to the enemy if they spotted her.

"Fang," I sent on our team channel. "Go to Diamond and let him know that we need to know how to take out drones fast. If he acts coy, remind him that these commies likely want him dead too."

There was a pause as Fang handled my request for me. It was hard to shake off the Captain's instincts, but my two superiors did not interrupt my flow. Currently, our enemies were flying through the crops, using their barriers like wedges to part the fields ahead of them.

The opposing mages were not in range for us non-snipers yet. Calamity would have to flip to anti-barrier ammunition if she wanted to pop our enemies.

A trill of notes from Sonnetto told Masquerade to start using duplicates. She intended to give Calamity intel on the location of enemy snipes. This would alert our enemies to an illusionist in the battle, which may make them suspect that the Emperor was not dead. It was a tough call to balance between our team and the lives on the train where the opposing mages would likely fly if they suspected their target was not actually dead.

The sniper fire indicated two enemy snipers had set up with a ghillie suit of wheat in the fields somewhere.

"Agent C says one down," Jing-wei called on the inter-team channel while Fang negotiated with Diamond on the train. "Okay, both are down. She sees no more fire."

I could also hear Tian Jian in the background coming from Fang's end, meaning the Minister of Enterprise was in the room with Diamond. I heard something regarding an Eddict of some kind.

"Agent N," Fang called out to me. "He says, 'One thousand thaums of magical interference flak. Up to half a mile in the air and around here.'"

Flak was a Germanian term for Flugabwehrkanone or aircraft defense cannon, but the term had evolved just to mean anything that bursts in the air to take out airborne targets.

It was going to drain a lot of mana, but I explained what I was about to do in the inter-team channel. It wouldn't affect mages at a thousand thaums, but we needed to be sure that no drones were out here. So far, Calamity's nest seemed safe, but we didn't know how long that would last. As the only military-grade computation orb user out here, it fell upon me to do the magical interference spell since I was the only one who could do the spell formulae on demand.

I unleashed a barrage that filled the sky with fireworks of magical interference. The sky was a big place. A thousand thaums was not a lot, but I had a lot of areas to cover.

"Agent C, how much is a half a mile?" I asked. I really wasn't sure. Only Americans use that metric.

"Uh…" She apparently did not know how to answer the question.

"A little less than a kilometer," Masquerade supplied quickly.

I was glad someone could convert on the spot. I could handle that area, and most of my mana would still be left for the coming fight.

"No drones spotted," I called.

"Confirmed on my end, too," Calamity Amb called out from her position. "Nothing revealed."

It would have to do.

"Agent C, don't use mana until we have engaged with the enemy mages," Sonnetto called out, taking a moment to tap her spell to give a more complicated command.

"Roger, ma'am."

Thunder crackled above us, and the wind started to pick up.

Now, we just had to wait.

---

Among the Wheat Fields of Persia

Avgust Zimin flew through the wheat fields, waiting until they got within effective range for their mage rifles. The sudden and inexplicable fireworks display of magical interference surprised them.

Had the crying girl, Tanya, misunderstood the secret message we gave her at the palace?

His Federation comrades had covertly assisted the Zhangzi Communist Party (ZCP) and the Nationalist Party of Zhangzi (NPZ) over the past five years. The Red Turban Imperialists faction may have pushed out the Uruan Dynasty and placed their new Mandate on the throne, but the people demanded change. The two-tiered society of Zhangzi of aristocratic cultivators needed to end. To bring that about, the Red Guard believed the Mandate system of government had to cease as well.

It filled Avgust with joy for the mages of the Red Guard to be asked to handle this mission while the Emperor was vulnerable. The Red Guard filled its ranks with old Eastern Europa aristocrats who the Old Federation had re-educated into the right kind of Federation Marksists. They no longer saw being a mage as a sign from the Lord of Faith that they got to rule over others. Instead, their talents and abilities belonged to the people. The Red Guard would be the medium between the common people and magic.

The Red Guard had worked in Eastern Persia for over a decade, assisting in overthrowing the governments of their Rumelian occupiers. Now, they got to help in yet another mission to free oppressed people from the scourge of imperialism. What joy this brought to their hearts, which had been necessarily broken and remade to serve the people.

Avgust lamented, however, that his good friend Comrade Borislava Kransi could not join them on this glorious day for all those who rallied under the red flag. Tanechka had wanted to hold off getting her Angels involved in the uglier side of revolution for several reasons. For that purpose, there had been radio silence between the Red Guard and the Tanechkists to keep each other safe. The Angels had the downside of being marked as communists, even if most of them were not as Marksist as he would have liked.
(AN: Borislava Kransi was the ace of the Angels in the Albish Royal Museum heist)

Comrade Borislava didn't have much choice but to be an Angel since she got marked by the Old Federation as a communist. The now disbanded Central Committee had experimented on their spies in order to make them more powerful. The experiments had backfired terribly by unintentionally making the women mutate and get their pronounced elven features.

On the one hand, their ears benefited the Angels in many ways. Their markedness assured the poor people of the world that, though the Angels may be mages, they were allies of the proletariat who could be trusted. Their mutations gave them more magic power and additional secret information-collecting abilities, but the Angels never got to use their fighting power as effectively as the Red Guard could. No one could deny the Angels' job, at the end of the day, was to make communism look beautiful and give heartfelt speeches that inspired the people to seek out their local vanguard of their country's revolution.

On the other hand, these ears caused them many problems as well. For example, anti-communists readily assign blame to Angels for any crime or fabricated one. They were constant subjects of polemic and portrayed in Western Media as seductresses who tricked young men into becoming communists or infiltrated capitalist governments to conduct espionage. The Angels' elven features also made them collectively responsible for their organization's reputation. If even one of them did something too revolutionary, they would all lose their freedom to move around and spread propaganda, which had proved immensely useful for rallying the people.

Still, it was an immense shame that a talented mage like Borislava had to waste her talents on museum robberies and the like. She could theoretically easily cut her ears and be part of the Red Guard. A plastic surgeon could probably handle it and make her look like a non-mage. Ultimately, Borislava decided, despite her admirable zeal, not to abandon her siblings among the Angels, many of whom also suffered the same Old Federation experiments as her.

Due to being propagandists, the Angels did have members who tended toward idealism. Being called an 'idealist' was actually considered an insult in communist circles. Federation Marksists were materialists. Their movement was to abolish the current state of affairs rather than attempting to force reality to adjust to some abstract, made-up ideal made by this or that thinker. Materialism worked because everything people needed to know in order to inspire revolution was already available in the material reality around them. All one had to do was pay attention and listen to the people; then, they would know to revolt. (1)

Materialism explained why all revolutions were born out of the conditions of their moment in history. The anti-colonial American Revolution of 1775, the anti-feudal Germanian Revolution of 1848 (which inspired Marks), and the communist revolutions of today all came out of the same fertile soil of brutal human suffering under the oppressor class. Growing out of that soil were raised fists held high in solidarity. Propaganda, even this more rose-tinted kind, served as fertilizer to help the revolutions grow strong enough to overcome the increasingly more sophisticated counter-revolutionary forces of the world.

As for unmarked war mages like Avgust Zimin, they handled the dirty work. Today, that work was to ensure the death of Emperor Zhu. The Nationalists in Southern Zhangzi had recruited two members of MI12, who were instructed to rig an explosive to the Royal Train cart as part of their coup. Now, it was the Red Guard's turn to check if it had really killed the Emperor because they had their suspicions that it had failed. The remainder of MI12 loyal to Zhu and the infamous MI15 would probably move to intercept his team.

His Red Guard team hoped Officer Tanya von Weiss, who had been spotted in Zhangzi, would stay out of this fight. They did not want their beloved communist hero and symbol to perish.

As he got within five kilometers of his destination, the snowstorm swelled. The literal power of the people fed the storm through Avgust's inexplicable new power that had suddenly emerged after he had fought against Tanechka's disastrous Second Revolution, which led to Leon Brotsky becoming leader of this democratic New Federation. He had told Borislava that the Brotskys would not let Tanechka keep the one-party system, but she was too blinded by hatred for the Central Committee. Now, their people had to live with a Federation rife with factionalism.

The Comintern used the term 'Conduits' for individuals with powers like Avgust because the mana of the people flowed through the conduit and into the magical powers that people like Avgust could use for special abilities. The Red Guard called his power the 'Conduit of Change', which made this miraculous glorious weather phenomenon possible. The ace of the Red Guard would never claim to be divine, nor would he accept worship because of this ability. Avgust would never exploit the people for his own ends as the Emperor did with his Mandate.

All the snow clouds that built up over the battlefield reflected the hard work of the Angels and other revolutionary organizers in Zhangzi. The historical momentum to overthrow the cruel two-tiered Imperial government translated into power for his Conduit to accomplish the change demanded by history. Soon, a mighty blizzard would fall upon their enemies. There was no chance Interpol had prepared for a Russy winter in a Persian Summer. The storm would also importantly blind the American sniper who had taken out Zimin's beloved comrades. Their lives shall be remembered as heroes.

As Avgust and his team got ready to engage with the Mages of Interpol, he took a moment to appreciate the snow. Each flake was as unique and beautiful as the hearts of the people who lent his Conduit a bit of their strength. He could even imagine the voices of the precious children in the wind, singing out for a better future for themselves and their home communities. Their voices always gave him the courage to do what was necessary for a successful transition to communism, whether it was killing dissidents or torturing enemy spies in the old days before Brotsky's allies made sweeping de-Dzhugashvilization reforms in an effort to create contrast with the prior regime.

Brotsky's government created the Chvernik Commission to investigate and try many of the Red Army and NKVD of the Dzhugashvili's regime for their crimes during the Mezhovshchina to give the people justice. The commission decided to spare many who had been sent to killed, sent to labor camps, or exiled by Melotov's commission, including Avgust who was imprisoned, claiming that they were rehabilitated. "Done were the days of abuses of NKVD, and now we uphold the promise of a better Federation where the working class can honestly disagree," the commissioners declared. Their mercy gave Avgust a new lease on life to continue to operate independently from the Federation in the global communism movement as their Conduit fighting against oppression everywhere. (2)

The problem with their ruling was that he did not feel rehabilitated. In fact, no matter what happened, he could not shake his programmed mentality from his Old Federation reeducation. What mattered most to this unchanging Avgust was that all of his actions, in the end, would be worth it if they granted the children a world free of class oppression. The reeducation made him hear their voices every time he had to do something difficult, like now with bombing this train. The Always Avgust would, however, never disappoint them by showing weakness before the enemies of the revolution.

Finally, it was time to rise above the grain. Avgust used a spell to magnify his vision so he could see Comrade Tanya. It startled him that she wore the blue dress to battle like this. Her young face was even wet from freshly shed tears, too. It was surreal as if she had literally jumped out of the propaganda poster to join their side. She really shouldn't. He was not sure if he could ensure her safety.

The Red Guard was too far from Comrade Tanya to coordinate, so Avgust turned his attention back towards his mission objective. Looking at the site where the Emperor died, Avgust could see what appeared to be dead bodies; however, he did not fail to notice the illusionist's magic earlier. Enough fishy things were going on that the Nationalists must have failed.

"Switch objective two," he declared as he banked westward. "We have a train to catch. When in range, drop explosion formulae. Leave no survivors. We cannot let either Conduit escape."

Then, he felt it. The Devil of the Rhine was here.

Of course, she would be here.

Directing his vision to where the source was, he saw that Germanian soldier in full aerial mage uniform flying at him just like during the war. The crying girl in a blue dress must have thankfully stepped out of the fight because she was nowhere to be seen. Still, he had a job to do first. The other people on the train would be sacrificed, but that was the price of the people's cause demanded.

As Avgust readied his rifle to fight back against Interpol, a chill from his Conduit ran up and down his body. Winter was coming, and the snow would run red with Revolution.

---

On the Zhangzi Express

Demiguichi Akira knelt patiently in the train cart of threats as a storm raged outside. Her sensitive ears could hear the voices of Captain Ouyang directing the Mages of Interpol with his madar system.

"They are coming here! Train team, prepare to intercept!"

Akira got up and moved towards the window to get a better view and a less obstructed mage sense. Whoever was attacking the train had not yet gotten into the range of her senses despite how enhanced they were.

The archer extended her mana self towards Polyxena. The true blessing of becoming an Angel was not enhanced magical power but the ability to communicate with one's sisters and brothers over great distances. That was why Tanechka had to use drones operated by Angels to coordinate with her agents across the globe. That was why Polyxena knew too much about everything. Despite defecting, there was no way ever to exclude their sister from their collective whenever Polyxena extended her mind into it.

They were not a hive mind, but they definitely could not hide anything they said from each other while inside that metaphorical space their mutation created for them. That was why Akira could tell Odyssia was not a real Angel. She could not feel Odyssia's mind near her when she went to watch her concert.

"Comrade Polyxena, do you know who is attacking us?" she silently communicated through her thoughts. Two-way communication was not something her brothers and sisters could do while casting other spells, but the communication was completely undetectable.

"Shouldn't the sudden blizzard give it away?" the recently arrested former Angel replied as she undid her handcuffs with a hidden pick and got ready to jump ship. Akira did not know what the normal weather was in Persia. She was not that well-traveled.

"General Winter?"

"Is that what the Akinese called him during the Great War? Then, yes, him. He didn't have his conduit or mandate back then, though."

A chill went down her spine. This was bad, really bad.

"That Old Federatation maniac," she cursed.

Akira got out of her cabin and went towards Ouyang's location at the back of the train. Fang Shiyu stood in her way. He had apparently not left the train and had repositioned to support Ouyang in the rear of it. Now, the martial artist got into a pose to attack her.

The Angel stood no chance against him. She was trained in traditional mundane archery. The only magical martial arts she knew was the pacifistic aikido, which was only to defend herself. Her way was individual peace and collective revolution. Violence and suffering bothered Akira too much for her to engage in it herself. That was why she joined the Angels as a propagandist.

Fortunately, she was not here to fight.

"Stand back, communist, or we will assume you are with the terrorists," Fang told her.

"I am here to negotiate to save the people of this train, including your emperor," she replied.

"Why would you save Zhu?"

"Because your people love their new Mandate."

Fang looked suspicious. The two Zhangzi men had no love for communists, especially Akinese communists like her.

"What harm does letting me negotiate cause? Have your mages relay a message on all channels from me to General Winter. Mages of Interpol and we Angels want the same thing — for everyone on this train to reach Baghdad safely."

The name caught Ouyang's attention. He knew who that was. Fang was somewhat clueless, being too young to have served in the first Zhangzi-Akinese War. The Federation aerial mage may have been on the Zhangzi's side. Still, Ouyang, who had been a former General, would know how dangerous having Avgust Zimin as an enemy would be even without the Conduit of Change summoning this storm.

"Ouyang to Jing-wei, set up the relay. We have someone who will negotiate with the terrorists."

After a moment of back and forth, Akira was given the go-ahead.

"Comrade Avgust, stop this attack now," she called over the open channel relay, using her civilian computation orb. "You are acting against our cause."

"Warum sind wir—"

"Nichts, sei still."

The bickering on the open channel then stopped.

"Comrade, I don't know who you are," the gruff voice of the Old Federation mage came across the channel. "But the Emperor and the Legion's conduit will die on that train or in the fields if they flee. While the innocent deaths on that train will sadden us, we cannot hesitate even when our enemies use innocent lives as shields, for they will never give us the same courtesy."

"My death is not why I cry out to you to stop your attack, comrade," she opened in Russy, attempting her best to find the words that would make sense to him. "Your actions are counter-revolutionary."

"Explain. I have the Devil closing in, and talking will become hard."

Akira assumed Comrade Avgust meant Jing-wei, but the Angel ignored that and pressed on.

"Emperor is too dear to the people of Zhangzi for his Conduit gives them good fortune. Killing him will stifle our revolutionary efforts and hurt the people's interest."

"He is not so precious that joining we should tolerate him joining the Silver Legion, which has the most terrible plans for Zhangzi. We must intervene before the country becomes a puppet state of the Unified States and the Albish Empire."

Interpol stopped the relay as they were out of patience with Akira's plan.

"Ouyang to all officers," the captain of MI12 called, switching to their closed channel. "Negotiations are over. Stopped those communists before they reach the train!"

Fang directed Akira out of the room quickly and shut the door to prevent more interruptions to Ouyang's work. The Angel then extended her mind into the collective, where her sisters and brothers discussed all matters around the world in a massive forum. Taking a deep breath, she called out to her international family.

"I must talk to Tanechka."

If Comrade Avgust did not listen to her, then she would need to find someone who could make him see reason. Hopefully, the Mages of Interpol could hold off the hit squad long enough for her to save these people.

---

Chasing the Red Guard - ten kilometers from the Zhangzi express

I readied my mage rifle as I boosted after the enemy's squad. Snow increasingly obstructed our vision, and soon, we would lose sight beyond only a few meters if this supernatural snowstorm worsened.

A trill of notes from Captain Sonnetto gave Calamity the okay to start firing with mana. We were pretty confident she was safe now and no longer wasting time with that foolish negotiation.

One sniper shot. A mage got nicked. Another went wide. The last hit its mark.

Six remaining.

"I am starting to lose vision," Calamity claimed. She made two more shots. One more down. "Yeah, I am useless right now."

"Okay, fly towards the train," Masquerade called. "If the enemy comes towards you, hide in the fields."

This just meant that Sonnetto and I would have to face the Red Guard for the time being. This was going to be a dogfight, and the rest of our teammates were not great at that. Sonnetto and I would be coming at our enemy from opposite directions in a pincer. That would be a two versus five. With Jing-wei's ward, I hope I would be safe. Sonnetto would face higher risk, but she insisted that Calamity and I take one.

"Calamity, hand over your ward to Masquerade," Captain Sonnetto ordered with her thought-to-speech spell.

"Roger." The two replied.

If we delayed them long enough, Ouyang, Masquerade, and Fang could back us up, turning this into a much more doable five versus five. There was absolutely no way Calamity would catch up in time or be anything more than a sitting duck. In hindsight, we should have put her on the train to defend it, but we had no idea what was going to happen.

I also knew this man leading the enemy squad from only a few encounters. We had met only once during the war, but I still remember how difficult that battle had been. The 203rd found themselves severely overextended into enemy territory as the Germanian lines had fallen apart and our maps hopelessly inaccurate. The man specialized in leveraging expertise in extreme weather conditions. My team, unfortunately, were not trained aerial mages. This was not a ragtag mobster but some of the best of the best of the Old Red Army.

One of us might, no one of us probably will die. I still would do everything I could to make sure that didn't happen.

"Permission to take command," I called over the inter-team channel in both Germanian and the standard dialect of Zhangzi. "I have the most experience with fighting the Reds."

There was only a short pause—a trill of confirmation from Sonnetto.

"Permission granted," Captain Ouyang soon followed.

"Sonnetto, don't focus on what your eyes can see," I began. "You need to rely on your magic sense. Wait until… no, scratch that, fire the moment you spot them. Russies over-rely on their barriers. They will be sitting ducks to anti-barrier ammunition. Go all out. They are much slower than you, so make sure you use your speed to your advantage to run circles around them."

I got the trill of confirmation. Sonnetto would be facing the enemy first. As I started relaying member-specific orders to the rest of the team, I could feel the battle begin between Sonnetto and the other five.

Don't die, Sonnetto. We still have a vacation to go on.

My heart clenched. I knew it was irrational to fear for someone who was practically immortal as far as we could tell, but I hated losing anyone. This would be the most brutal fight our team has ever had.

Then, I could see them. I unleashed explosion formulae in a large area, avoiding Sonnetto's flight path. While I didn't expect to pop any of the shields with my first volley, I knew the Russies would spread out. With my Germanian magetech, I was the fastest mage in the air by far. I zoomed through the space I opened up with my volley and focused on the first target I spotted.

It took half a clip, but they must have either run out of mana or died. It was now two versus four.

Suddenly, the air snapped. Snow around me fused together and became hail, which pelted and drained Jing-wei's ward for some reason. No normal weather phenomenon would even bother military-grade barriers. This hail had mana in it, which sapped the barrier much like cold saps heat from the body. Thankfully, the ward held firm, but the racket from all the plinks would make communication difficult.

"We meet again, Devil of the Rhine," the Named mage General Winter called out on all channels on a short-range madio, which transmits into the mind of mages. "This is for you from the people of the world."

"Do act like you care about the people when you kill them!" I spat even if he probably could not hear me.

I shot at him, but it was like the storm protected him. We would have to get in close to defeat him.

I boosted towards him, switching to a mage blade.

"You predictable fool," Winter mocked.

Then, he cast a spell I had never seen before and blasted into my barrier. Usually, barriers blocked most magic, but this was an aerosol, which tricked both my and Jing-wei's barriers into thinking it was air passing through. Ice formed on my body.

"You will have to do better than that, commie!" I retorted as battlelust grew in my heart. Winter had brought me such a familiar thrill from my past. The ice just fell off me as my Mandate was spared from being encased.

I flew at him, phasing through the ice he tried to entrap me inside. A smile slipped on my face in glee as I neared my target, but then he went to dodge. I misjudged my attack and bounced off his barrier. I could phase through people whom I didn't let interact with me physically but not into a mage shell.

Spinning around, the fact that I had lopped off a few of his fingers became apparent. Now, to try that—

Suddenly, the three mana signatures came into the range of my senses. It was the three we thought had retreated. Two of them were the traitors of MI12. Our fight had just become two versus seven— no, scratch that. Sonnetto had successfully taken out two targets with her anti-barrier fire. It was a two versus five now.

However, her barriers were draining fast. We needed reinforcements and fast.

---

On the Zhangzi Express

Demiguichi Akira sometimes did not enjoy entering the collective space of her chosen brothers and sisters. In particular, she hated how her fellow Angels constantly argued with each other. They might share a mental space, but the Angels definitely were not of one mind despite Tanechka's hatred for factionalism.

"You weren't there, Comrade Asaf," the firebrand of the Russy Angels, Borislava Kransi, complained.

"Well, Borislava, you should know better than to compare atrocities," Asaf Ali countered in a chastising tone. "The Federation intentionally exacerbated those famines during their agricultural collectivization project, causing unnecessary deaths. We don't want to repeat that in Zhangzi."

"No, you are playing into capitalist propaganda. Ten million dead are nothing compared to the harm done by capitalism."

"You don't think I know that. We estimate that the Albish Empire's handling of the famine in Bharat caused an additional hundred million unnecessary deaths, but that does not excuse the Russy Federation's malicious, ethnic-animous-motivated, and neglectful mismanagement theirs. We must never relativize atrocities. There should be more accountibility measures built into future collectization projects to reduce abuses from the committees. We all are all human, after all; therefore, we are all blinded by our myopias." (3)

"Borislava, Asaf, I think we can all agree that—"

"I need to speak to Tanechka!" Akira interjected immediately upon fully entering the space, ending the debate. The situation outside the train was just far too dire and time-sensitive to wait for her siblings to make peace. "It is an emergency."

The voices in the shared space went quiet.

"Tanechka here," their leader answered, using an Angel near her to relay. "What is it, Comrade Akira?"

"The Red Guard is about to take out the Zhangzi Express."

Suddenly, a current of concern flowed out towards her from her brothers and sisters, who knew she was on that train.

"Then, you have no choice but to abandon the train," Liliya Ivanova Tanechka replied. While Akira could survive the fall, she would be abandoned in the middle of an unfamiliar land. She couldn't fly away like her siblings trained as aerial mages. However, her concern was not for herself.

"No, the problem is we must stop the attack and save the Emperor," Akira corrected. While the Angel had gone to Zhangzi to help the communists locate the Akinese weapon stores, she had shared her findings while helping to spread propaganda. "You trusted me about pivoting our outreach to the peasantry. Trust me in preserving the cultural heritage of Zhangzi as well as providing them the benefit of their Conduit."

"Worship of their Conduit as a Mandate of Heaven corrupts the people's minds into believing their place in the world is to be ruled over. Do not protect that man playing God. Moreso, we have been provided intelligence he may be bringing in the Silver Legion into the country to dispose of us."

"Comrade Liliya, please understand I come from a country with deep reverence for our Emperor, too. If we do not harmonize our revolution with the culture of the people, we will be constantly repressing them instead of freeing them from oppression. Just look at the Russy Federation. Despite decades of enforcing atheism, the people still cling to the Lord of Faith. Clearly, the Marks was wrong, and we must see the reality before our eyes that the people will not be saved by killing the Emperor and other acts of repression."

Liliya Ivanova Tanechka hummed in thought. Akira did not know if she had convinced her leader, but the middle-aged non-mage clearly had something on her mind.

"There is also the matter of the Legion's Conduit and Zhu's potential recruitment to the Silver Legion," Tanechka replied. "I am sorry. We cannot let the Legion use someone so powerful to accomplish their aims. The stakes are higher than you know."

Then, an unexpected voice joined the conversation.

"The one called Mary Canary may defect to the Popular Front," Polyxena Miranova suggested, referring to the temporary alliance between liberals and communists to face the rising threat of fascism.

Shouting ensued as several Angels despised the traitor who worked with the Allied Kingdom and had teamed up with MI15, which helped maintain the Liberal Democracy's world order by getting in the way of revolutionary action.

The Angels had been pretty evenly split in their support of Representative Leon Plum's Popular Front and General Secretary Leon Brotsky's United Front. However, Polyxena's decision to turn her sisters into Interpol definitely swayed more people to Brotsky's faction, which excluded liberals. Trust was thin for liberals, and defensive othering was getting worse by the day as liberals continuously proved to be untrustworthy allies.

"Quiet, our Angels," Tanechka called over the relay. "I want to hear from our prodigal fallen Angel. Time is of the essence."

Polyxena cleared her metaphorical throat before answering. "I overheard a conversation between MI15 and Richard Diamond. The robber baron has leverage on the Conduit. If we can rescue that leverage, she will defect to the liberals."

Tanechka answered after a very slight pause. "Still, no, we should take the guarantee that the enemy Conduit is removed from play rather than risk delay any further. Please, flee the train, Comrade Akira."

The Angel knew one last argument that might sway their leader. While she was not Russy, Tanechka was.

"Our hero, Comrade Tanya Weiss, who is among the Interpol officers defending the Emperor, will die too if Comrade Avgust does not call off his raid."

A chorus of Angels and their emotions broke out once more.

While Akira was from the Akitsuhima Dominion, Tanya was the symbol of the Second Federation Revolution. Propagandists like the Angels discreetly used her story of imprisonment and the image of being rescued by an international alliance to symbolism their own movement of global empancipation. The people wanted assurance their movement would not follow the same path as Josef Dzhugashvili's cruel regime. Her death would greatly sadden the people.

"Silence!" Tanechka shouted. The mages did so, and their leader spoke once more. "You have convinced me enough, but you must secure proof that the Emperor will not transfer power to the Silver Legion's puppet. I will trust that you can do this in time because you have never failed us before. How much time do we have?"

"They will reach the train at any moment, even at the locomotive's top speed."

There was the sound of movement and the dialing of a phone.

"Comrade Liliya is calling the Comintern," the man in the room with Tanechka handling the relay explained.

Then, their newest member, Miu Tsui-fa of their Zhangzi operations, addressed Akira. "My son has spoken to the Emperor about the state of our country. From what I heard from him, I think you can convince Zhu to transfer power to the compromise candidate, but you must hurry."

"I will, sister," the archer replied. I will, or Zhangzi may be doomed.

Exiting the shared mental space, Akira acted fast. She did not know where the Emperor was, but one person who was part of the current administration and might be able to help — Minister of Enterprise Tang Jian.

Akira made her way down the train toward the 'troublemaker section'. Along the way, the black-haired woman passed by Mary Canary. The Legion's conduit was just standing outside between train carts with a metal rod held up. Akira didn't have time to ask why, as the situation demanded too much haste to sweat the details. Still, something about it felt off. Had she stopped and thought, she might have figured out what was going on.

---

In the Snow Storm two kilometers from the Zhangzi Express

As three enemy mana signatures and four friendly friend ones approached us, it was clear the enemies would arrive first.

"Nichts, I don't know what is with this hail, but it is draining my shields," called out Ouyang. "I am flagging on mana fast just to keep it up."

I felt the Captain's mana signature start to flicker.

"Abort Ouyang, find shelter. You won't be able to help."

"Roger," the man groaned.

I didn't know why the three enemies who had broken off from the leading group were heading to us rather than the train. What was their objective? Again, something was very wrong.

Right at that moment, though, I needed to delay Winter as much as possible. My faster computation orb repositioned me ahead of the enemy ace, but then he swapped targets with his partner, who had been engaged with Sonnetto.

His partner aimed his rifle and shot several optical formulae coupled with guiding formulae. I took evasive maneuvers as beams of green light-tailed me through the storm.

"Fang, Masquerade," I called on the channel, using a mental acceleration formula to multitask. "Take out the three approaching threats."

"Already am," Fang reported. "Li Tan, Wu Gongfu, and an Earth Mover are among them."

"I know the mana signature for the Earth Mover. He is with the Nationalist insurgents."

Shit, I knew what was going on now. The Nationalists had foolishly allied with the Communists to overthrow their Emperor. Then, did that make Tang Jian this world's version of Zhang Jian? He had to be.

I could feel a rising dread in my stomach that was familiar to me during the Great War, which fused events from both world wars in my past life. I haven't had such a deep sense of dread since Brest when I knew Francois's army was about to flee.

Not again!

I pumped more into my mental acceleration, only letting instinct and training handle guide me in fighting the Red Guard mage.

If this world's Great War could combine two different periods, then why not for the revolutions in China? At first, I assumed Zhu Chongba was this world's Zhu Yuanzhang, the penniless founder of the Ming Dynasty, which formed in 1381 in the world of my past life; however, if Tang Jian was this world's Zhang Jian, then Emperor Zhu was also the Xuantong Emperor. Additionally, Empress Ma would then be Empress Dowager Longyu.

I wanted to scream.

"Captain Ouyang, where is Empress Ma?" I called out productively instead, finally picking off the Red Guard grunt.

"I can't—"

"I need to know!"

"She is in disguise. Minister Tang Jian, Minister Uruan Shikai, and Officer Sun are with her, as are several of the royal guards. They are safe as long as the aerial mages do not arrive."

I felt like he was hiding a secret, but my mind realized what was going on. The nationalists and communists had pulled off a Xinhai Revolution. I had to stop it before Emperor Zhu got dethroned.

"Get them separated now!" I cried with a voice ragged with desperation. My heart thumped like crazy, and I got dizzy. "Stop her from signing—"

"Nichts, focus on the aerial battle. You sound delirious. The royal family and everyone on that train need you to take out General Winter."

"Please call Officer Sun. Get the Empress away from Minister Tang while we still have time!"

"Nichts, this is an order: focus on the battle right now. Okay, Jing-wei gets Masquerade to calm her down. Her life-spirit is disintegrating."

He meant I was having a CPTSD attack. Knowing you were having one and stopping it are completely different things.

Fighting started happening around me, but I couldn't focus. Li Tan launched an illegal gas attack at me, but I flew out of the way. Fang kneed Li Tan in the face. The Earth Mover encased me with chunks of stone, but my Mandate caused me to just phase through it. My flight path was erratic, but I generally went towards the train.

Then, Masquerade came up to me. I could hear his voice but not understand it. As he pumped out illusions, he kept the three remaining mages busy.

"Let me into your barrier," he called out. Jing-wei's wards would automatically blend together if the crystals got close enough, but my personal barrier, which I summed by instinct, would reject a foreign body if I didn't consciously let him in. His familiar voice jolted enough sense in me for me to let him in.

He glided into my barrier and placed an arm around me. "I am here for you. We are here, but we need you. Fang can't fight both the Earth Mover and Wu."

My breathing settled back into a rhythm. Perhaps because my mind was accelerated or because I could feed on his desire for me not to be trapped inside this emotional loop somehow, I could think clearly again.

Suddenly, the whole battlefield became clear. We were only a kilometer away from the train now.

The nationalists come here to actually fight the last remaining communists, making this a three-way fight. My team had been so caught up supporting me that they must have missed the way the nationalists were delaying General Winter and trying to ignore us. The storm had actually stopped hailing at this point. Whatever spell was powering, it must have run out.

Winter then banked to retreat suddenly. He still had plenty of his mana left as a real pro. He was close enough that he could actually start casting explosion formulae, but he didn't. Winter was retreating. Everything going on stunk to high heaven. We were being used. The Emperor surely was not behind it.

Sonnetto, however, pursued Winter in the absence of my leadership.

"No, don't!" I cried out.

It was too late. Despite having anti-barrier ammunition, the commie was just too skillful. He expertly found a way to outmaneuver the faster Sonnetto and surprised her with an ice spell.

My brain went to war with my heart. I needed to get back to the train and stop the Tang Jian and Empress Ma, but I also needed to rescue Sonnetto. Would she actually survive being encased in ice and frozen to death?

Stopping Zhu's surrendering his country to the revolutionaries lay in one direction while my superior lay in the other. Then, I caught the Mehnidi that Sonnetto had given me on my left hand.

She isn't just my superior. She is so much more than that.

I boosted rapidly towards Sonnetto. I didn't know what I was really going to do. It was more instinct than anything. As our enemies suddenly retreated, I dived after my popsicle'd housemate. She almost hit the ground when I reached her. Swooping into her encased form, I actually phased through the ice but into Sonnetto.

And then we came out the other side of the ice. It was weird. I could not see Sonnetto, but she was somewhere here with me.

'Tanya, what is going on.'

It was Sonnetto's voice, but in my head, like she had cast a communication spell. I heard the flapping of what must be Sonnetto's wings.

'Where are you, Tanya? I am panicking. I am can't calm down.'

'I am, too. I can't see you. I am flying over the train tracks.'

'So am I,' Sonnetto replied. 'Your mana signature is right on me. You have to be…Oh no.'

We realized it at the same time. We lifted up our left arm. Instead of the normal Mehnidi that Sonnetto had there, the Great Wave that was from my Mandate's outfit wrapped around her arm in hues of silver, red, and black.

We had finally gone the whole way. It wasn't fusion like from those animes in my prior lives, but rather, I had gotten absorbed into her skin, and our minds shared the same space now. Our feelings overlapped, but we could still think individually.

I could feel she was still alive from the thumping of her heart. My mana went to warm her, but I lacked my computation orb. I guess all I had was access to my Mandate abilities and might be able to use her prepared alchemy.

'Don't mess with my alchemy,' she told me.

'Yes, ma'am.'

Well, I guess we can't keep secrets from—

Suddenly, we tore apart as new panic spiked and acted like a clever. I was back in my Mandate outfit, which my mana could conjure at will. She was there in the air.

Then, gravity remembered that I didn't have my computation orb.

"Ahhhh!" I screamed as I fell. Sonnetto soon caught me, thankfully.

While I directed her to take me back to the train, I reflected upon what happened. I did not want to share things about myself with her. I just knew somehow, however, that I wasn't the one who panicked about sharing secrets. What was this about the late Alexander Magnus and a child?

I had a feeling I would find out soon.

Then, a mage made of pure energy flashed across the sky, racing towards the retreating revolutionaries. Like chain lightning, the mage bounced between all the enemy mages. One after another, those mages' mana signatures disappeared from our senses. Winter had been exhausted from fighting us, but the new entrant was both at tri-core levels of power and completely fresh.

When Winter's mana signature flickered out, something strange happened. It was like the signature overlapped with the energy mage and became one.

What did we just see?

Then came the thunder, and I could sense the mana signature of the mage who had become lightning. It was the now-empowered Mary Canary. She flew back to us, only slowing long enough to share a look of strained emotion. She seemed simultaneously fearsomely powerful but also breaking under that same power on the inside. I was not a good judge of these things.

I was pretty sure both Mary and Winter were Mandates. If Mary had just killed Winter as it looked like it had happened, then the power in the world may have just shifted.

---

Baghdad, Persia - 12th of July, 1950

Richard Diamond had not felt an ounce of fear on the train. If the revolutionaries got too close to the train, then Mary Canary would kill them. If any nationalists survived, then he would have them killed as well. There would be fewer loose ends for people who knew his scheme this way. Interpol did a fantastic job softening up the communist God of Change. Mary Canary now possessed three divinities in her portfolio.

No one knew how Mary Canary's blessings and curses from her divinities worked aside from the Silver Legion. She had once been the Goddess of Beginnings (the Alpha of Causation), but they had her kill the God of Power, Alexander Magnus, during his time of weakness. The Lord of Faith had given the Silver Legion's founder, Arthur Pelley, everything they needed to know about the eleven remaining gods in the world to bring about eternal war. This foreknowledge allowed Richard Diamond to position Mary Canary in place to kill the dictator of Magnus Rumeli and take his memories and powers.

The entrepreneur may dislike that Mary developed an enfeebled state after gaining the curse of the power divinity, but it served as a conspicuous way to bait the communists to send their God of Change. As the people of Zhangzi might say, when you are strong, appear weak; when you are weak, appear strong. Richard Diamond felt so much joy in finding a way to make Mary useful even when she was burnt out.

The communists had no idea how much the aspiration for the power of the many politicians and dignitaries in the Zhangzi Express rapidly fed Mary. A thunderstorm soon formed and allowed her to recharge her 'battery'. She just had to get struck by lightning before she could eliminate the targets. They cut it a bit close, but Richard had faith in his careful planning.

Most of these gods could never truly die as they would reincarnate with some of their memories eternally as a punishment for defying the Lord of Faith in some way during their lives. It could be because they played god, attempted to bring an end to war permanently, or simply refused to kneel before the Lord's power. Regardless, Richard Diamond wanted that power for himself, too. It would just take some time to set Zhangzi to be conquered by the Legion and place himself on the throne. Then, the businessman would gain the Divinity of Fortune.

Aside from a few exceptions, if the gods killed one another, they would gain a copy of the memories of the fallen divinity. If they held onto the soul instead of letting it pass into the reincarnation cycle, they gained the powers, blessings, and curses of that divinity. They could release that soul, but why would anyone? More divinities gave one more ability to draw upon people around oneself for more mana. Who doesn't want to become more powerful?

The businessman idly wondered how Mary felt when she encountered the Pawn. Alexander had married Princess *Raṷxšnā (Roxanne) as his first wife, and they had a kid together, after all. It must have evoked a lot of intimate memories to see the Pawn who used to be his wife before the reanimation. He figured Alexander's soul wanted to talk to the Pawn, who wasn't even human enough to care about him anymore. According to what he knew about the failed immortality procedure, the resultant homunculus lacked any personality and acted like a puppet. Seeing the Pawn now, it clearly had developed a personality over time, so maybe the alchemist had been wrong. It could also be the influence of the Unknown Goddess White Silver that had influenced the pawn.

The domain of the Unknown Goddess was obscured. Various words could encapsulate each divinity. For example, the God of Change could also be described as the God of History. The people of Zhangzi called the divinity Tanya possessed the 'Mandate of the Self', and they split her duality between freedom and determination. Richard did not trust the Zhangzi to understand the Lord of Faith's will, so he dismissed their theology. He favored her other monikers, 'Goddess of the Possible' and 'Goddess of Many Names' better.

Soon, Richard Diamond would see the result of his ploy to position the Silver Legion as the best way to continue to get his fellow Americans 'legroom' in Central and South America. While he waited, he sipped from his tasteless but oh-so-pure distilled water while he read Jonathan Quick's fantastic essay, A Humble Proposal. The writer gave Richard so many valuable ideas to pass along to President Yockey.

The entrepreneur squirmed in his chair as his gut coiled in discomfort for some reason.

The essay and the thought of politics reminded him: he had to telegram Senator McCleney on scuttling that school lunches bill. Giving free lunches to mages (the right people) had been proposed by one of the Silver Legion legislators. They intended it as a corrective measure to re-establish the proper hierarchy of society, which democracy had corrupted. The problem was this would give people the wrong idea that they were entitled to free handouts. You had to start teaching people they were entitled to nothing but what they earned themselves as kids, or they would grow up expecting entitlements as adults.

'Work, innovate, or starve,' as Richard Diamond would tell people, including children who needed to learn fast. While he was on this train of thought, parents really needed to wean their kids off free food earlier rather than later so the children didn't grow up dependent on them. The moment they could work a factory machine was the time the child should start earning their own keep.

His bowels rebelled against him, and Richard had to run to the bathroom with the greatest haste.

"Richy, I told you not to get the local food when we were in Bharat," his best friend for life, Henry Pulitizer, called out from the other room. "You tainted your gut."

"But I didn't!" he shouted back.

"Maybe you didn't wash your hands after shaking hands with that guy — what was his name?"

"I did wash, you know me!"

As much as Diamond loved war, he didn't appreciate the war in his bowels. Experiences like this one were why he kept his body pure with distilled water.

To distract himself from the discomfort, Richard decided to spark a conversation with his friend Henry.

"How is the reservation plan going?" Diamond inquired from the bathroom they shared.

"Yockey's team has done a wonderful job selecting areas of the Aztec Empire with low or no economic potential to resettle the inferior populations deemed unfit for life. We have sent in teachers and started building boarding schools to un-Aztec the potentially useful ones and make them Legion."

The Unified States had taken the Aztec capital in just over a month back in April and May of this year. The Legionnaires were already busy establishing a puppet government that would recruit a useful white non-mage underclass to handle sending the undesirables out into deserts where they would have to fend for themselves. If they left the designated areas, they would be killed on the spot by patrolling mages. It wasn't genocide if people failed to feed themselves. The Malteusians of the Albish Empire had invented the famine system of population control, and the Silver Legion had perfected it with the new era of reservations and boarding schools where those with potential could be molded into more desirable citizens before the pathogen was ready.

Groaning from the topic of boarding schools and his revolting bowels, Richard could not hold in a complaint — among other things.

"I hate that Yockey wants us to foot the bill for this."

"It is a necessary evil, Richy. After a generation, we can end the public education system."

"Still, see what the accountants can do for us. I want Sword to pay for this. He had a big windfall with his new carline, and there is no way he can hide that from Yockey's administration."

They certainly never got caught for doing anything illegal like fraud. In Richard's mind, if one thought about it, fraud was like speeding, but instead of speeding with your car, you sped with your business to keep up or get ahead of your competitors. One just had to keep it at the level where populists in Yockey's administration wouldn't detect it. What Richard and Henry did wasn't wrong. It was normal. Everyone did it. Those insurance companies also definitely deserved a bit of fraud, as did those taxing authorities and those banks offering loans requiring onerous financial disclosures. Actually, if you didn't commit fraud, you would fall behind your competitors who lack such moral shortcomings. The prime directive of profit at all costs demanded that you do whatever was necessary to make sure your business survived and stayed at the top.

As Richard washed his hands, a knock came to the door.

"Getting it," Henry called out. "It's the help, and she's got the telegrams you asked for."

"Thank the Lord," Richard replied.

Walking into the main room with a towel in hand, the entrepreneur took the telegrams out of Mary's hands.

The woman had become strange after absorbing the communist's memories. She had this thousand-mile stare and would occasionally mutter under her breath. This moment was no exception. The man barely picked up the name of one of her great-granddaughters who Richard had killed.

Honestly, Richard wanted to hit her right then, but he tried his best not to touch the poor. They carried too many diseases, and the tall man valued his health far too much. Thankfully, Mary's curse of powerlessness made her unable to touch him, for she could not do anything towards someone she feared. Having the lives of the Canarys in the mines where he could gas them if he ordered it or died meant that Mary feared the risk of touching him. He had already killed a few of her less useful and obedient family members just to make sure she knew that failure came with consequences.

The first telegram was from Sir George Stanton. The Albish merchant acted as Richard's middleman with the nationalists in southern Zhangzi, where most of the country's industry was located. The communists worked in the northern part of the country, which had a sizeable agricultural peasant community. The two groups had worked together to topple the imperial government of the short-lived Zhu dynasty. Now, it was time for the nationalists to betray the communists and take over if everything went as planned.

Richard furrowed his brow. He even read George's message twice.

"What's the problem?" Henry inquired with concern in his voice.

"Empress Ma didn't abdicate the throne."

"But you were with Tang Jian to write it."

"I had to leave the room before the meeting with the Empress," Richard explained. Not only did the Empress not like him, but he wanted to be ready to abandon the train if Mary failed to protect it. He went to bed after that until they got to Baghdad, and then he and Henry got too busy with League of Nations business.

"What did she do?"

"Emperor Zhu still has the throne. The Empress only transferred the power of the head of state to the Popular Front's leader."

The Zhangzi branch of the Popular Front had just sided with the global alliance of liberals and communists to fight the Silver Legion. (4)

---

1: Source: Marx, Karl. The German Ideology. "Part 1: Feuerbach. Opposition of the Materialist and Idealist Outlook, Idealism and Materialism." 1845
2: See Shvernik Commission
3: Source: Sullivan, Dylan; Hickel, Jason. Capitalism and extreme poverty: A global analysis of real wages, human height, and mortality since the long 16th century. World Development. Volume 161. January, 2023.
4: See the First United Front of China and the Popular Front of Léon Blum.

---

Lorelei's Note:
This chapter ended up diving into a lot more politics than I usually do. While I lean heavily into parody with Richard Diamond, a lot of that is to keep the darker elements of what is going on from dragging down the story. I don't want to sugarcoat the horrors happening in the world, but I also don't want to make the story so dark that I don't want to write it.

Betareading: Pinklestia101 and DrkShdow
Art: Sasika Guruge

Additional Art:

Expressions of Jing-wei by Sasika Guruge​

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Main Characters:

Tanya's Wave Form by Sasika Guruge​

• Captain Tanya von Weiss
  • Aliases:
    • Agent Nichts
    • Devil of the Rhine
    • White Silver
    • (formerly before adoption) Tanya von Degurechaff
  • Description: Germanian war veteran who is hiding her secret identity as the most wanted person in the world for alleged war crimes. She is currently the Captain of the MI15 and lives with her housemate Sonnetto.
• Vice Captain Laurence Drake
  • Aliases:
    • Agent Masquerade
    • The Thespian
  • Description: Former spy of the Allied Kingdom with a long history of espionage in both the Persian Empire, Russy Federation, and Unified States. He has left his spy life behind and become an illusionist in the employ of Interpol.

Sonnetto by Naze​

• Officer Sonnetto
  • Aliases:
    • Agent Sonnetto
    • (Formerly before death) Roxanne Magnus, daughter of Oxyartes
  • Description: Former Empress of Persia and First Wife of Alexander Magnus. She was assassinated and was resurrected as a homunculus with the same memories as Roxanne. MI15 rescued her from a secret laboratory, and she later went through officer training and joined them. She is now an Officer for MI15 and lives with her housemate, Tanya.
• Officer Fang Shiyu
  • Aliases:
    • Agent Fang
  • Description: A martial artist and cultivator mage from Zhangzi. He joined MI15 after completing officer training. He sees his work primarily through the lens of self-improvement and advancement along the path of cultivation.

Amber Canary by Naze​

• Officer Amber Canary
  • Aliases:
    • Agent Calamity Amb
    • Agent C
    • The Tejas Sharpshooter
  • Description: An American veteran who suffers from a magical mutation that caused her to stop aging as a young child. She is over a hundred years old and carries the guilt of participating in the indigenous oppression efforts of the Unified States. Seeing the writing on the wall, she joined the Mages of Interpol in Europa before the Silver Legion could declare its genocidal war of conquest on the Aztec Empire to its South. She currently serves as MI15's arms specialist until the position gets formally filled. At that time, Amber will be transferred to Captain Elena Müller's team.

Side Characters:

• Captain Elena "Elya" Müller - A former Germanian spy who enabled Tanya to continue a life of violence in Interpol.
• Investigator Mary Sue (aka Bloody Valkyrie) - The perpetually oblivious Interpol officer from Legadonia whose life mission is to get vengeance on the ever-elusive Devil of the Rhine. In her last battle with the Devil, Mary transformed into something that looked like an angel and lost her ability to sense mana signature. Captain Müller keeps her busy as to prevent Mary from discovering that Tanya is the Devil of the Rhine.
• Matheus Weiss - the former vice commander under Tanya during the war. He adopted Tanya as his daughter right after the Great War in 1933. Figmund Sreud hypnotized him in 1934, and Matheus became trapped inside his own mind. His sudden absence in Tanya's life caused her immense grief.

Polyxena Mironova by Sasika Guruge

Polyxena Mironova by Naze​

• Polyxena Mironova (aka Jane Forger) - A former member of Tanechka's Angels from the Russy Federation. She currently works as a freelance assassin for the Allied Kingdom. Laurence "Masquerade" Drake is her on-and-off boyfriend. She has a dark sense of humor.

Borislava Kransi by Kanekuo

Borislava Kransi by Naze​

• Borislava Kransi - the Ace of the European Branch of the Tanechka's Angels. She comes from the Russy Federation and supported Tanechka's putsch against Josef Dzhugashvili and the Central Committee. She used to be Polyxena Miranova's girlfriend.
• Liliya Ivanova Tanechka - former political officer of the Old Russy Federation who led a putsch against the Central Committee. She credits young Tanya's tears for inspiring her to rise in another revolution, as she never wanted to see another person suffer under the evils committed by the Old Federation.
• Richard Diamond - an American plutocratic robber baron. He does extensive business with the Unified States government, which is run by the Silver Legion theocratic dictatorship. He believes that the world should be constantly at war as competition encourages evolution and innovation.

Mary Canary by Sasika Guruge

Mary Canary by Naze​

• Mary Canary (Tejas Twister) - an American mage of extraordinary power. Richard Diamond uses her family as leverage to control her into doing his dirty work. She is Amber Canary's older sister who stayed behind with her descendents in the Unified States because Richard Diamond has them somewhere.

Khuyana González by Sasika Guruge​

• Doctor Khuyana González - a medical physician and officer in MI54. After the Great War, she became a pacifist and struggled with inner conflict. She specializes in Andean magecraft, which utilizes plants to store unique spell formulae.
• Doctor Harrison Jones - an archeologist and officer in MI54. He studied archeology at the University of Hindianna but became a crime-fighting mage in Argentum after the Great War. He specializes in using ancient magical artifacts, which he uses with permission for the good of the people.

Miu Tsui-fa by Sasika Guruge​

• Miu Tsui-fa - a member of Tanechka's Angels from Zhangzi. She specializes in Spirit Body magic, which allows her to create a secondary body out of magic that fights for her. She is Fang Shiyu's mother and taught him cultivation until he completed his dao formation.

Captain Ouyang by Naze​

• Captain Ouyang - the leader and magic user of MI12. The Uruan Dynasty castrated him as a child and made him their chief enforcer before he betrayed them to get his vengeance. He prefers the company of men to women but appreciates talking to Tanya. Someday, he wants to see Berun, where he can live more freely as himself.

Jing-wei by Sasika Guruge​

• Vice Captain Jing-wei - an officer and magic item prodigy of MI12. Her parents bound her feet, which resulted in her being unable to walk without pain and balance issues. She opts to float most of the time. Due to receiving too many magic items from Emperor Zhu, Jing-wei developed severe magical mutations. She specializes in charging crystals with warding magic.
• Emperor Zhu Chongba - a penniless peasant who miraculously became the Emperor of Zhangzi while serving in the Red Turban coup against the Uruan dynasty. However, their rule did not satisfy the Nationalist faction in the south or the Communist faction in the north. Zhu is genderfluid and switches between presenting as a man and a woman based on convenience and comfort. Fang Shiyu and their wife are the only ones who know this.

Demiguichi Akira by Sasika Guruge​

• Demiguichi Akira - a tall female member of Tanechka's Angels. Despite being a mage, she has little combat ability. Instead, she specializes in propaganda. Her focus is learning about the people and their living conditions first before crafting a strategy for revolution. Akira breaks with the Russy Communist Orthodoxy due to her belief that communism should adapt to the cultural conditions of a country and should not suppress religion.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Hoston, Unified States - 4th of July, 1928
22 years before present

A young Richard Diamond, Jr. went wide-eyed as fireworks burst in the distance. Reds, blues, and whites filled the night sky.

"You like that, champ," his father commented with a smile. "You know what the 4th of July is about?"

He knew this one because his teacher at the boarding school taught him about the brave revolutionaries who gave his people freedom from the tyranny of an imperial government from across the sea.

"Independence and democracy!" he beamed, expecting his oft-absent father to praise him.

"Democracy? What is this nonsense that they are filling in your head at school? The Unified States has never been a democracy, and we are a republic."

His father sounded disappointed, and Richie deflated. Diamond Senior was never happy with his son. The man had gone overseas with the Morgan patriarch to make deals with the Allied Forces during the war, but every time he came back, the man would take little Richie to do something fun. It was just clear that Diamond Senior saw his son as a failure.

Richie knew why. It was because the child's magical ability had been stunted. Both of his parents had been mages and had expected him to be one too.

"What is 4th of July about then, Father?" the boy inquired.

"Taxes!" Diamond Senior declared proudly.

The older man proceeded to explain how landowners got their peasants to rally for their cause of freedom from exploitive foreign taxation and created the greatest country on the planet Earth.

"Our Founders made a government of the landowners for the landowners. Then, troublesome reformers took over and ruined everything. The first step towards degeneration was giving non-landowners the right to vote. Never trust reformers, son. They may use pretty words about humanitarianism, but if you try to protect what is yours and offer to part ways peacefully, they will violently force you into their tyranny of 'kindness'. The reformers have neither kindness nor common sense. For example, those insane reformers even violently coerced our family at gunpoint to surrender our property and then gave that property the right to vote. You wouldn't give a horse or a plow the right to vote, now would you?"

Richie giggled as he imagined a horse running in an election against a plow.

His father went on to talk about giving poor people the right to elect Senators and how that led to the whole situation of the poor people constantly interfering with their family businesses because their lessors had too much power in the government.

The fireworks came to a close soon after his father finished correcting all the mistakes in what the young Richie had been taught at school.

"Oh, before I forget," Diamond Senior stated, changing the subject. "I met with Herr Zettour during my trip. He gave me this, thinking I would find it interesting."

He gave his son a book simply titled Essays on Economics with the author listed as 'White Silver'.

"A Germanian child prodigy wrote this, and Zettour did not reveal much about her, claiming she did not want the limelight hence the pseudonym. I don't have time to read it myself, but I would like you to. You learned Germanian at school, right?"

He nodded.

The Diamond family had been secretly selling armaments to both sides of the war, and Richie had met Zettour only once. The man gave the impression that he was making a deal with the devil to work with his family, but that didn't make sense. Wasn't the Devil, according to Arthur Pelley, supposed to be a weapon of god to punish the unfaithful? His father was nothing like that. Still, Zettour acted extra lovely to the Diamonds, the same way Richie's father acted kindly to Hoosevelt.

Richie went on to desperately try to understand White Silver's book. The words were way too big for him back then, but he knew that if he could be smart like her and retake government from the reformers, his father would finally be proud of him.

---

Hotel Baghdad, Persian Empire - 14th of July, 1950

The Mages of Interpol had found out that Demiguichi Akira, the Angel from the Akitsuhima Dominion, had not only indirectly saved the train but stopped Empress Ma from signing over Zhangzi to the Unified States warlord puppets. Tang Jian assured Ma that signing the edict of abdication was the only way to save her country and the people on the train, as a traitor among the cabinet would call off the attack if they saw it get signed. They only knew about the nationalists who had planted the bomb on the royal cart.

The Angel's intervention alerted them that they would get the communists to call off the attack, hopefully. Why Tanechka had connections with Leon Brotsky's government and the Comintern was not explained. Still, Demiguichi swore that she had been pressing to accommodate the royal couple in the next administration. The warlords had underestimated the peasantry, not expecting them to show up well-armed. The peasants and communists had no love for warlords, and the balance of power in Zhangzi remained in a delicate position. The Emperor and Empress' favor could go a long way not only to shape the next government but also to reduce bloodshed between the more liberal South and the more socialist North.

While trust was thin still for the Akinese angel, Empress Ma silenced her ministers and their nativist bickering. The Red Turbans had pushed out Akinese imperialists and the Uruan Dynasty. Empress Ma had been educated abroad and shared the more cosmopolitan perspectives of the Southern Zhangzi merchants.

That decision had saved her country. The Angels and their information network did some digging. They discovered that those warlords planned to turn Zhangzi into essentially a country of sweatshops for Diamond and his monopolist allies.

The Silver Legion planned to use access to the sweatshops as a concession to Europa to replace the lost cheap labor from their emancipated colonial populations. Germania, in particular, which had lost all its colonies after the war, would benefit significantly as they could leverage their highly educated population and robust industry to create parts for machines and have the Zhangzi population put them together.

Germania was in the most precarious position, being on the border of Leon Brotsky's Russy Federation. If General Secretary Brotsky continued to be skeptical of the Popular Front alliance, Germania could be a location for a potential proxy war between the Unified States and the Russy Federation.

Sonnetto massaged Tanya's back as they had a moment alone in their hotel room. The homunculus staddled the mandate between her knees as Sonnetto used the weight of her upper body to apply pressure. It was nice to use Roxanne's training for Sonnetto's crush.

"I hate not knowing what Diamond is planning," the war vet admitted.

Sonnetto leaned down and gently kissed Tanya on the back of the head. Lifting back up, the white-haired woman could see the black-haired Tanya blush. They had snowballed closer over the vacation. Each life-threatening battle had destabilized their sense of order in the world. Both had come to cling to the other to find safety like a sailor latching onto a piece of driftwood after a shipwreck during a storm.

The battle with the Red Guard had nearly resulted in several deaths in their teams. Fang had several optical formulae wounds as well as magic induced and was under watch by doctors at the Baghdad hospital. Ouyang was not much. Calamity and Jing-wei were fine, but they needed to destress as well.

"He and his lackeys have their fingers everywhere," the war vet stated before turning her head to groan in her pillow. "And we have no idea how to peel Mary Canary out of his grip."

Sonnetto repositioned herself so that she lay parallel to Tanya. She glided her hand across her love's arm, and the aerial mage calmed down again. The massage had been almost done already, anyway. Despite having done nothing all day, Tanya was emotionally exhausted even if the woman struggled to process or recognize emotions.

Sonnetto had given MI15 the week off, and the local Interpol team understood. Mages who did combat like they did needed recovery time. Back-to-back battles wear one out quickly, and Tanya had admitted it was becoming too much like a war—one side with Diamond on it and one with them on it.

Tanya proactively pulled Sonnetto closer. They had become somewhat like friends with benefits as their mutual suggestion. Sonnetto had not confessed yet, but Tanya had an open mind to try to be more intimate. The homunculus wanted to confirm that she could be close to Tanya the way the war vet physically needed. Sonnetto worried that she would lack the instinct for intimacy, and they both would have to figure out how Sonnetto could communicate in bed without magic or sign language.

Things were interesting, to say the least.

When they got back to Germania, they would have a lot on their plate. If Tanya accepted Sonnetto's feelings, then there was no way they could be in a superior-subordinate relationship anymore. Masquerade would have to step up. Due to crossing a line already, Masquerade had agreed to take over command until things went back to the way they used to be.

Sonnetto had tried to explain things to Tanya, but the war vet seemed unready to put the emotional side of their relationship into words. Sometimes, when Sonnetto lay in bed in the morning, her crush would prepare breakfast. The crimson-eyed officer wanted to admit her feelings. Somehow, Tanya would pick up on it and get panicked.

Like in the bed in the dark, the mute woman could not inquire what scared her love so much.

Pulling Tanya's head into her, Sonnetto attempted to convey as much of her care with touch as possible. The magical waves in Tanya's hair billowed as her thoughts presumably tried to figure out Diamond's plan and how the evil entrepreneur had somehow wrapped the Russy Federation, Zhangzi, and the Mages of Interpol into it.

Eventually, the sound of Sonnetto's heart must have soothed Tanya enough for the veteran to drift off to sleep.

---

Hotel in Baghdad, Persian Empire - 14th of July, 1950

Masquerade knocked on the door to Sonnetto and Tanya's room. The freshly freed for reasons Polyxena (as 'Jane Forger') and Calamity flanked him. It was nearing time to head out for the coffee shop, and the two blossoming lovebirds had slept in.

"Coming," a voice rang out behind the door. There was a thump and muffled swear. A few moments later, the door opened to a sleepy Sonnetto in Tanya's outfit.

"Where's Tanya?" the Albish man pressed.

"I am right here," Sonnetto's speech spell said in a voice that somewhat sounded like Tanya's. It was like Sonnetto was trying to mimic Tanya's speech pattern and got the pitch slightly off.

"Har har," Calamity piped up. "Can you stop being a kidder? I am hungry, and the Masquerade said the American diaspora in Baghdad frequents this place. They even got an American performing some music at the coffee shop."

Sonnetto's face twisted in confusion.

"Has her eyes always been purple?" 'Jane Forger' wondered.

Now that you mention it….

The homunculus' eyes went wide as Tanya somehow got flung out of her into the three gathered people. Masquerade politely closed the door to give Sonnetto some privacy as Tanya's magically conjured clothes went with the mandate.

"What in tarnation?!"

"Can you explain what just happened?" the thespian inquired the short Germanian war vet lying at their feet.

"Fusion and then Fission."

"Fission?"

"Magical fission," Tanya answered unhelpfully.

"Is that dangerous?" 'Jane Forger' wondered.

"I hope not. The last thing I need is to deal with an Albert Einstein concluding that mandates can be used for thermo-magical war, but more seriously, we discovered that I can be absorbed into her skin."

"Kinky," Masquerade joked.

Tanya rolled her eyes.

"Do you mean Albert Feinstein?" 'Jane Forger' inquired, rubbing her chin. "Also, what is thermo-magical war?"

"Sorry, yes, that is who I meant," the Germanian war vet clarified. "I am not talking about the other subject ever unless it is necessary."

"Well, Feinstein has escaped to Russy Federation from the Unified States along with countless other scientists," 'Jane Forger' stated. "It was big news in the World Congress countries."

Tanya's looked like a deer in headlights. "Why would he go there?!"

"The Americans were going to kill him."

"Why? He is a genius! They love geniuses over there."

"Albert Feinstein is a democratic socialist and other things the Silver Legion hates. They have a near zero-tolerance policy."

"Oh…" Tanya muttered.

Sonnetto opened the door and dressed in her new outfit. She had gone for something more traditional, including a head scarf. While headscarves were highly controversial in Europa, they were not required in Persia under the secular liberal democracy of the current Popular Front government, which Prime Minister Mohammad Ashtiani headed. Sonnetto insisted on wearing one today for some reason. Tanya, being who she is, didn't care what others did as long as it wasn't disruptive in the current moment (as opposed to in hypotheticals). If he didn't know any better, it was like she was trying to blend in and avoid being seen.

The group headed out to the coffee shop. Along the way, Tanya bought the morning paper from a newsstand. The headline read 'Albish PM Flies to Unified States'.

Calamity got to singing.

"Yankee Doodle went to town
A-riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his cap
And called it macaroni."

She did all the silly dances and gestures.

"What is she singing about?" Sonnetto inquired in sign language.

"It is an old song making fun of Americans that we Albish wrote," the thespian answered.

"Why is she singing it then? She is American."

"There is nothing more American than turning an insult into a badge of pride."

"Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy."

"Getting handy?" Masquerade joked. "Must be singing about you, Tanya."

"I don't get handsy…without permission."

When Calamity finished, Masquerade interjected a question before she could break out into another song.

"You seem awful chipper this morning," he wondered.

"You got to stay positive. There is a lot to be sad about today, but this is Remembrance Month in observance of the month the Great War ended. Many made the ultimate sacrifice so we could live in a freer world, including here. After thinking about your advice, I decided it would be a disservice to the people who came before not to take some time to give myself permission to be happy."

"Wise as always, Elder Calamity," the white-haired Captain Sonnetto commented, with Masquerade practicing handling the translation.

"Do you know 'It's a Long Way to Tipperary'?" Masquerade asked jovially.

"Do I?! Of course, I do!"

The two got to singing, getting queer looks from the passersby but mostly being left alone. They were not disrupting at their volume, and it helped that Masquerade was professionally trained.

"Up to mighty Londi'
Came an Eirishman one day.
As the streets are paved with gold
Sure, everyone was gay,
Singing songs of Piccadilly,
Strand and Leicester Square,
Till Paddy got excited,
Then he shouted to them there:

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye, Piccadilly,
Farewell, Leicester Square!
It's a long, long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there."

Masquerade nudged Tanya to encourage her to let more of herself out. She had also been taught, but she saved her singing voice so she wouldn't feel embarrassed. When she shook her head, he let off. It didn't serve to be pushy. Everyone had boundaries. Public singing was one of hers. She said something about 'the last time I sang patriotic songs in another country's capital, twenty-six million people died as a result,' which had to be an exaggeration.

At this point in the song, Calamity layered in 'Pack up Your Troubles,' which harmonized well with Tipperary.

"Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag
And smile, smile, smile
While you've a lucifer to light your fag
Smile, boys, that's the style
What's the use of worrying?
It never was worth while, so
Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag
And smile, smile, smile."

When they reached the cafe, they could hear a woman inside singing 'Summertime' from the American opera Porgy and Bess, which would never be tolerated under the Silver Legion's censors. While it was not odd seeing culture from the Unified States in big cities, the diaspora definitely made America's presence even more felt. There was a cosmopolitan mix of people from every subsection of society in the restaurant, but most importantly, it was safe for people like Masquerade and Polyxena. Calamity would feel comfortable with the sizable presence of diaspora from the Americas there, who had made the coffee shop their hang-out to exchange news and organize.

Masquerade ordered the drinks for the group in fairly fluent Persian. Sonnetto remained shy and went to the table with Tanya after passing her order to him.

"How come you know Persian?" Calamity inquired once he got back with their food and coffee.

"From my Lawrence of Arabia days," Laurence "Masquerade" Drake replied. One couldn't hear it, but he had used a minor pseudonym back then.

Tanya choked on her coffee. "You are the Lawrence of Arabia? The one who wrote Twelve Pillars of Wisdom."

Sonnetto helped wipe the Germanian's mouth with a napkin.

"Yes," he admitted. "I am still embarrassed about that. I used a pseudonym."

"Why?"

"He embellished a lot," 'Jane Forger' explained. "But he did try to free those people from Rumelian occupation."

"What happened?" Calamity inquired.

They moved into a private room in the cafe that 'Jane Forger' had arranged for them to protect from possible bugging. Then, she answered the question. They did not want to deal with the CIA or the Albish Secret Service for various reasons.

"What always happens," the green-suited assassin stated. "The capitalists in Albion and Francois Republic betrayed the people in Arabia when they saw profit. They took a good chunk of Rumelian-occupied Arabia despite how much Masquerade had protested it. I might support the Popular Front, but I don't trust liberals to not jump on profit when they see enough of it — promises or not. Capitalism has always been about excusing opportunism, greed, and monstrous acts for the benefit of the imperial powers. The gunboat gave birth to capitalism."

That inevitably provoked Tanya, resulting in the two libertarians of opposite stripes arguing over the merits and demerits of capitalism.

The American thought for a bit until she interrupted Tanya and Polyxena. "What happened to Laurence is not too different from what almost happened after the Ispagnia-America War. I had served in the Filippines. We had worked with the people there to free them from Ispagnia rule, but when the war was over, the fat cats in Hashington, D.C., decided they wanted some of those colonies. Had General MacBeth not leaked the plot at the cost of his career and the Coalition of Freed Countries had not pressured the Unified States, President McKinney would have annexed it."

"Yeah, it could have gone very differently," Tanya commented cryptically.

"The people in the Filipines would hate our guts if our country actually betrayed them. I wouldn't blame them. I would feel like utter garbage if we did that."

Tanya stared at her food and suspiciously said nothing.

As the food and coffee arrived, the American singer downstairs moved on to her next song, a cover of the late Odyssia Ono's 'I Ain't Got a Home Anymore'.

Sonnetto decided this was the moment to bring up a subject on everyone's mind.

"What are we going to do if a war breaks out?" the inconspicuous homunculus inquired.

Calamity answered first. "I will go with the Popular Frontists. I've got enough of robber barons. I might not like what the Reds did in the Federation, but Richard Diamond and his buddies are morally bankrupt and genocidal. I will try to stick with Germania as long as I can."

"Are you seriously considering fighting in the war?" Masquerade questioned, surprised.

"I hate war. You all know this, but the Silver Legionists are bastards who got to be stopped."

"But you will be fighting your own people!"

"Wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes people are doing something so darn evil, you have to fight for what is right."

Masquerade recalled that Calamity Amb had actually fought in the Civil War. It was crazy thinking about doing that to him, but he knew civil wars had happened. Ispagnia had one not long ago.

"I don't know what I will do, honestly," Masquerade admitted. "Prime Minister Catcherlain hates communist countries, and the Unified States is offering both financial and military support to my country. Catcherlain may side with the fascists to fight the communists if a world war breaks out. I can't defect for reasons I can't get into, but I can't fight with fascists."

Polyxena sighed, stirring her coffee with a spoon. "I will work with the Unified or Popular Front. I will always stand with my fellow workers."

"How about you, Tanya?" Calamity wondered. "You going to fight for Germania."

"I will leave with my family and friends if they are willing. I am never fighting in another war again. I regularly have nightmares of being alone in another world war. I can't … I can't."

Sonnetto pulled Tanya's side hug, getting her to return to reality. It was rare for the Germanian to admit such things, but the team had been working with her to open up more. As she let emotion flow out of her, Tanya's mental health became more stable. The woman clearly had a lot of unaddressed issues.

"I will find someplace away from it or insist that the League of Nations let the Mages of Interpol not participate so we can continue our jobs," the mandate with magically wavy hair stated. "I just don't know how the world beats the Unified States. I can't imagine what will happen to Germania in all of this."

As the group discussed this, the singer downstairs announced her next song. "This song is dedicated to Odyssia Ono and her family. May we never forget her inspiring songs. This was one of her last songs, calling the world to action and her only pro-war song. It is called Tear the Fascists Down."

"There's a great and a bloody fight 'round this whole world tonight
And the battle, the bombs and shrapnel reign
Yockey told the world around he would tear our union down
But our union's gonna break them slavery chains
Our union's gonna break them slavery chains

I walked up on a mountain in the middle of the sky
Could see every farm and every town
I could see all the people in this whole wide world
That's the union that'll tear the fascists down, down, down
That's the union that'll tear the fascists down

When I think of the men and the ships going down
While the Aztecs fight on across the Don
There's Tenochtitlan and Quito in chains
Good people, what are we waiting on?
Good people, what are we waiting on?"

Masquerade turned to Sonnetto as Tanya distracted herself with her food.

"What is your plan?" he followed up both out loud and in sign language for practice.

"I don't have much choice," she replied, glancing at her source of Mandate magic that keeps her sense of self intact. "However, that isn't such a big problem. I care a lot of about Tanya."

She said this clearly to Tanya.

"We all care about you too, Sonnetto," the housemate replied.

"I mean, I really appreciate you," the white-haired officer pressed.

"We all really appreciate you too."

Masquerade facepalmed. It was rare for their mute teammate to be so circumspect. "Tanya, she is trying to say that she—"

Sonnetto glared at him, and he shut up. She will tell her crush her feelings when she is ready.

"What are your thoughts on us staying together forever?" Sonnetto inquired of Tanya.

"That would be very pleasant, and I appreciate your company."

"What are your thoughts on love?"

"I have kind of given up on it. I have tried my hand at it countless times, and it has never worked out. I have basically concluded that love is for other people. My emotional blindness and my unique situation make relationships just too difficult, and it is the definition of madness to expect different results trying the same over and over."

"You are not going to become a crazy cat lady?" 'Jane Forger' joked. "I heard that cats eat their owner when they die."

Masquerade snickered at the attempt at humor. While others hated Polyxena's brand of macabre, he loved her for it. Death haunted them all the time, and talking about it like this made it easier to manage.

"I like pets, but our job makes owning one too difficult."

"I think I would like to get a dog," the assassin admitted and then leaned into Masquerade. "What do you think? We could get a hound dog, and if we ever die, the dog can lead people to where our bodies are buried."

Masquerade chuckled.

Tanya squinted.

"Do you always make such jokes?"

"I do try to widen my repertoire. Isn't that right, Sunflower?"

"You are doing wonderful, honey," he replied, and then he turned to Calamity. "So, are you just going to live with Tanya and Sonnetto?"

"Well, hopefully. We haven't determined if my asylum will be accepted."

It was up in the air if the Unified States would pressure Germania into surrendering a valuable mage back to them. It would be messy for Interpol and the team if Calamity got deported.

There was even a non-insignificant portion of Germania who wanted to join the Silver Legion's model of governance. They read from papers that spurred up anti-communist and Eastern European hatred. The paper depicted a caricature of Leon Brotsky as a devil sitting above a river of skulls and symbols of various hated minorities hung around the communist leader's neck. Headlines of these papers blasted the public with non-stop retellings of how communists had raped nuns and burned down convents in Ispagnia, suggesting that socialists would do that to them, too, in their country.

Recently, after a Germanian had been brutally murdered, some sensationalist papers implied or stated without evidence that the murderer was an Eastern Orthodox Russy or a zealous atheist Brotskyist who had come into Germania through the asylum system. A fresh wave of reactionary riots broke out in Germania, where rioters burned down Orthodox Churches, raided socialist clubs, and attacked Eastern Europeans in their homes. The murderer hadn't even been a communist, Eastern Orthodox, or Eastern European.

The team had read about all this in horror, but Tanya had broken out in full-blown panic—something about needing to find and kill a painter. The war vet did not make sense. Sonnetto suspected it had something to do with Tanya's past life. When Tanya had calmed down, she did not want to talk about it anymore. The woman had this bad habit of building walls around herself and falling into hopelessness as if she could never do anything to prevent war.

Tanya had telegrammed her friend Elya to check on Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov, who said her family was safe but terrified. Her daughter, who worked at Interpol, had a whole police force to protect her.

Masquerade refocused on the here and now. He addressed Calamity again. "So, if you don't mind me asking, are you really stuck as a child forever? I heard from Fang that there might be something you could do."

"Well, there is something that can be done about that," the Tejan admitted. "You can imagine it isn't fun being a child. I have been looking for some way to grow up, if that makes sense. Fang Shiyu told me that there are some ways to modify one's body. The Daoists use it to become more androgynous, but it is time-consuming. Theoretically, an expert could guide me in making my body go through all the growing-up stuff. I don't know all the science-y and mystical stuff."

"You must be excited," Sonnetto commented.

"Unbelievably so, but it will require Interpol to help me get access to care."

"I think I might know some people among the Scientific Humanitarians who can help," Tanya admitted, recalling her ties with that organization during her Freikrops days keeping the peace as the Germanian Republic government got set up. "Their endocrinologist have synthesized several hormone therapies."

"Moscva also has a lot of connections with Berun," 'Jane Forger' stated helpfully. "Their clinics are also top of the line now the bans have been lifted on gender sciences, which includes helping people with puberty disorders."

"Baghdad has the world's leading alchemists and medical professionals," Sonnetto added. "While hormone treatments are Berun's specialty, perhaps one of our experts could help you."

"I know about those specialists," Calamity stated. "But it won't work for my situation due to my mana body. The people who understand mana bodies best are the Zhangzi masters, whose cultivations result in bodies closest to innate mages like me. The problem is that their country is in the middle of yet another revolution."

"The bureaucracy should still be in place unless they decided to get rid of that too," Tanya commented. "I can help you with the paperwork on getting your Interpol health plan to get you access to the expert you need. Germania is also a bureaucratic country. It is why Zhangzi and my country get along so well. As much as I think bureaucrats are inefficient and lacking in pragmatism when it comes to military operations, they have their own culture that transcends borders."

"So what is it like in the Unified States?" Polyxena questioned Calamity after a few moments.

"It is hard to explain."

"Is it tyranny everywhere and marching soldiers?" Tanya inquired.

"Not really. Kind of. It is complicated."

"The news is that this side of the pond gives two pictures," Masquerade added. "We keep hearing about breaches of human freedom but also beautiful suburban homes full of smiling families."

"It is a duality," Calamity confessed. "So everything looks beautiful on the surface, but underneath is something far more horrible."

The ever-child stabbed her flaky kahi wa geymar breakfast and then continued.

"So, for example, every American is pretty much spied on by their government."

Masquerade coughed on his coffee. Of the ones present, Tanya was the least affected by the confession. The thespian wondered what kept Tanya so unable to see the horror of this confession. Had the war really robbed her ability to care about these things?

"How do they do it?" Polyxena followed up.

"They have tiny computation orb cameras everywhere that trigger when certain words are said. They are looking for terrorists and revolutionaries. All socialist and civil rights activists are carefully monitored, too. Phone calls are regularly monitored."

"What about getting a warrant?" Sonnetto inquired.

"As the Silver Legion would say—," the gunslinger said before stopping and eating her food.

"What do they say?" Masquerade wondered with a bit of concern. Like he was a spy who had crossed the line during a war, but the Calamity was describing peacetime norms that went far past what even the most supposedly 'embracing-of-necessary-evils' Marksist-Levinist-style socialist government did in terms of surveillance.

"They say—" and Calamity went back to eating as if forgetting the conversation. In essence, the Silver Legion just did not talk about it.

"Do that do that about other things?" Sonnetto wondered.

"Countless things. For example, just as we officially have a right to privacy, we also have due process. All these detention centers, where they torture people, go against our laws. The CIA was supposed to report on the torture or 'enhanced interrogation' that they do, but 'drats, the report went missing, and the only backup is locked away.'"

"Why didn't they get the backup?"

"They lost the key, they said. It was in the news for like a day before everyone forgot about it. The Silver Legion really rode the era of mage terrorism after the Great War to pass all these bills, and now they just Stonewall whenever they get any pushback. Even for the most absurdly obvious questions, the CIA won't answer them. The common defense is that it would cause national security issues. My guess is people would get mad at the Unified States."

Tanya decided to pipe up at this point. "Yeah, they once detained one of the residents of my country by accident, tortured him, and put him on kangaroo trials to superficially justify torturing him more. We had to beg the Unified States to release the man. (2) Because the Unified States is spying on us, we had to expel Americans from their embassy in Berun, which is something we reserve for the worst offenders. (3) Trust between Germanian and the U.S. is thin right now. Shamelessly, the Unified States is trying to convince my country to let them have an even larger intelligence and military presence in Germania."

"How do Americans react to this?" Masquerade pressed Calamity.

"For starters, most of us don't ever think about what Germanians think about anything we do," she morosely explained. "We don't know almost anything about the rest of the world aside from the most superficial stuff. All the torture and spying stuff is just rarely, if ever, talked about. We kind of don't feel it. It is out of sight, out of mind.

"Some people will complain, but no one has time or energy to protest that much. We have jobs that take up all our time and energy. The hours just keep getting longer. We still protest things like a highway cutting through a neighborhood of black folk and stuff like that, and we rarely win. We had people protesting the fat cats in Hall Street for a long time after the Great Depression, but that dissipated, and all the reforms to appease the populists reversed. White folk get in heated arguments with their uncles and stuff, but how does arguing with your uncle change anything?"

"So there are people who know that the Unified States is doing horrible things?" Masquerade asked, relieved somewhat.

"Well, kinda. A lot of information is kept from us. Again, as long as it happens outside of our sight and our focus is kept on the televisions, which are everywhere displaying sports and other things to get distracted or fight about, we don't think about how many bombs we drop on Aztecs or spying on our allies. The poorest people in the Unified States know that things aren't right, but there are a ton of well-meaning but absolutely useless moderates who keep voting and doing little else.

"It ain't uncommon for the Silver Legionist grunts to run people over with cars, shoot people protesting the awfulness, or lead an old-fashioned lynching. If there is any effort to bring these people to justice, the perpetrators get a pardon, or the juries will have a Silver Legionist on them who won't vote to convict. Cruelty is the gosh darn point.

"Moderates are effectively the bystanders during the atrocities as the extremists walk through their cities with torches in their hands, screaming chants about not letting people of color replace them. The moderates will say such sweet words of sympathy for the victims. Then, they forget about it the next day as they have got work. They will keep swallowing their expensive, addictive pills and therapy telling them not to worry about what they can't change to quiet their worries about how awful their country has become."

"What are you suggesting be done?" Tanya asked with a resistant edge. She was a law and order kind of person who liked peaceful stability.

Downstairs, the singer started a blues version of 'Which Side Are You On.'

"Well, no one is going to like what I am going to say. The League of Nations is probably about to have the equivalent of a global civil war, and I don't see how the Comintern just stands by and lets the fascists and their complicit allies keep the oppression and genocide going. Either they will join, or they are afraid they aren't strong enough to win."

They all knew deep down that peace wasn't a real option. The Unified States had gotten emboldened by the inaction of the European powers after it invaded the Aztec Empire. As long as the Silver Legion didn't attack them, they saw a powerful ally against the socialist countries, particularly the New Federation. General Secretary Leon Brotsky was full of anti-oppression zeal and was gathering socialist allies to fight fascists.

"It is time for a history lesson from this old American's perspective," Calamity Amb stated. "My country was born from a revolution that divided it, with brothers fighting brothers, sisters fighting cousins, and neighbors taking sides. The Tories fought for stability, loyalty, and the rule of law, as well as to preserve the Ablish Monarchy's rule. The Revolutionaries fought for emancipation. They had to abandon the rule of law, stabilities, and past loyalties to bring about their vision of what they thought was right. My paternal great-grandfather Harold Canary fought with the Tories, terrified of chaos that would ensue if these revolutionaries got just to do what they wanted. He died for what he believed in."

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Our newly born country became unified in our revolutionary vision of emancipation. We had to do the hard work of making a system where many people could freely speak their different languages, practice their different creeds, and live side-by-side with those from different lands in peace and cooperation. Our motto was 'from many, one' for a reason. There was no test for language or creed for public office. Yet, our union was very imperfect. There was still a lot of emancipating to do after compromising too much with the planter aristocracy and all the people who owned people.

"Those compromises of our emancipatory ideals fractured our society into tension between three groups. The first group was people who thought slavery was fine and dandy, and if anything, there should be more of it and no regulations for cruelty. The second group thought slavery just needed to be made less bad. They advocated for a few fixes here and there, and there would be a nice compromise between what should be and what is. Many of this group of reformers wanted to fade slavery out over time. Finally, there was the third group that looked at the other two in horror. That group included people like me and my father."

She took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

"My father was an Old Faither who taught Mary and me about our ancestors during our annual remembrance of their emancipation from slavery in ancient times. He was a dedicated pacifist and abolitionist with more empathy than he and my ma knew what to do with. During the chaos of the first American-Aztec war one hundred years ago, several people had escaped from slavery at one of the nearby plantations. My father would shelter, feed, supply, and instruct these escapees where to go next to get to the North with the other Abolitionists."

Calamity popped some knuckles and got her mind in the right place.

"Well, about a decade after my pa died doing what was right, the reformers tipped the scales a bit too much against the interests of the planters, and the aristocrats decided they had enough of the Unified States and went their separate way. My adolescent country again found itself divided, with brothers fighting brothers, sisters fighting cousins, and neighbors taking sides. Each had their own cause. The Rebels fought for their loyalty to the South and to preserve the planters' 'state rights' to own slaves. The Union fought for stability, unity, and the emancipation of slaves. The Battle Cry of Freedom was our song in the Union. The abolitionists in our ranks knew if we didn't take the planters to task, they would never give up the evil institution of slavery. They pretty much controlled the governments of southern states. We weren't fighting along tribal lines. We were fighting for what we thought was right, just like in the revolution. Nothing more American than fighting for freedom and goodness in the world against greedy oppressors."

"What are you suggesting?" Tanya pressed, concern in her voice about the direction of this history lesson. She would rather have peace than fight war 'to free people from evil'.

"Like I said, we are in the same situation now but at a global scale. After the Great War, the world still had to do the hard work of making a system where many people could freely speak their different languages, practice their different creeds, and live side-by-side with those from various lands in peace and cooperation. Yet, our League of Nations is very imperfect. There was still a lot of work to do after compromising too much with the fascists and imperialists.

"Today, we are still just many. Countries still predatorily peek over their borders at what could be theirs if they just take it. People still fight to be free, and some find themselves in the middle of two great powers fighting over their future. You got the perpetrators doing all sorts of evil. You have people in the middle who want a compromise and are okay with the evil as long it is just made less bad. Then you have people who think the reformers and perpetrators are equally bad."

Tanya frowned. "It sounds like you are siding with the Coalition of Freed Countries and the Comintern in this history lesson."

"Of course I am," the American veteran replied. "I don't like what the Old Federation became, but I fought in two wars to emancipate people, which is what socialists and communists fight for, too. Instead of pointing at failures, why don't you come up with better ideas? As I see it, until profit margins, property, and computation orbs stop mattering more than people, the three-headed hydra of warmongering, oppression, and discrimination will reign over the world. You can't take out the hydra by going for its heads like reformers do. You got to go for the heart."

"What precisely is that heart?" the mandate inquired with suspicion in her voice.

Tanya did not like the answer.

---

At an Interpol FOB outside of Baghdad, Persian Empire - 15th of July, 1950

Calamity and Masquerade didn't know what happened in my past world. It wasn't profiteering that was steering the world in my past life towards World War but protective tariffs and protectionism to safeguard home markets, which I saw happening in this world too. Countries dependent on trade would have to declare war in order to get the resources they needed for their industries and return things the way things were before the anti-capitalist economic reforms. In a world that had become globalized in its markets, protectionism was like stopping the blood flow through part of your body, causing that body part to go into shock.

Right now, the Great Depression reigned supreme in people's memories. Capitalism and free trade were not as popular as they would eventually be. The theories of populist protectionism, Kainesism, and socialism had spread like wildfire as 'solutions', and it would take a while for these fires to be put out. In the past life, all the socialist countries were toppled due to how inefficient their economic experiments were, as well as several US-backed coups and suffocating sanctions. In the end, the only holdouts in that other world were a few militant communist dictatorships who kept their guns pointed at the US instead of embracing true capitalism.

As for me, I loved the rational elegance of capitalism, which produced spontaneous order when people did not manipulate it with spies, military intervention, or any other kind of fraudulent or coercive behavior. Currently, MI15 and I have found ourselves in the middle of a mission to stop some of that coercive behavior. The Allied Kingdom and Unified States were staging a coup in the Persian Empire in order to put a theocratic dictator. The Albish called their side of the plot 'Operation Ajax' while the Americans called theirs 'Operation Boot' just like their counterparts did in my last life.

From the Persian perspective, they had an agreement from 1933 in which the Albish-Persian Oil Company (APOC) had agreed to give employees 'better pay, more chances for advancement, build schools, hospitals, roads and a telephone system'. (4) After being conquered and fought over by foreign powers, the movement of nationalize reached a crescendo. The current Prime Minister, who was a socialist within the Popular Front, attempted to audit APOC, who, in response, did the Albish and American thing of just stonewalling and refusing to cooperate. (5) Long story short, they did not keep any of their promises. (4)

Skipping ahead, the Prime Minister did the Popular Front democratic socialist thing and nationalized the most major national industry, which led to a petty boycott by the Allied Kingdom and the Unified States. The pressure was on. While their neighbors in Arabia saw Oil production increase, Persia's democratic government had to scale down production due to the lack of demand. The government held firm, but the unrest over dropping living conditions and opportunities gave fertile ground for the espionage efforts of the imperial and fascist powers,

For the Allied Kingdom and the Unified States, democracy in other countries, who wanted a chance to be equals on the international stage, meant effectively collective bargaining at the national level. Democracy had to go, and a tyrant who was friendly to them would take its place. From a realpolitik perspective, the foreign intervention made perfect sense. The Allied Kingdom and Unified States were two countries with massive oil-hungry navies. They needed that oil cheaply in order to maintain the dominance of their ocean empires.

Honestly, the largest nationalized industries were these two navies which provided the service of 'policing international trade'. I was no libertarian extremist. I don't believe one should privatize the police. In a community, privatized policing was what effectively the mafia were. That is why you have to leave policing to community institutions. Likewise, international trade was an international issue. If you left it managed by particular nations, they would inevitably abuse their powers like national level mafia to extort countries and embargo those who didn't play along with their national interests. The military should be for national self-defense. Leaving international policing to international organizations like the Interpol I helped create. We just need an international naval police force to replace the U.S. and Albish navies.

Regardless, despite the Unified States being clearly fascist, the Allied Kingdom seemed oddly at ease working with genocidal governments for profit. The newspaper had said that the Silver Legion had offered twenty crates of silver to sweeten the deal to get the Commonwealth countries to turn a blind eye to Unified States actions in Central and South America as well as joining the fascists' Anti-Comintern Pact, which effectively meant an alliance against a lot of the non-Western portion of the world.

I did not know how I felt seeing fascists and imperialists being the most anti-communists around the globe. Shouldn't the people who believe in freedom be the most anti-socialist? Yet, everywhere I turn, so many of the civil rights organizations and secular liberal governments have strong socialist presences.

All of this espionage had brought the Mages of Interpol 15 to this combat outpost. Masquerade had mysteriously gotten an anonymous tip on this espionage. I suspected Jane Forger might not be who she seemed and had been spying on the Albish Intelligence community for the global Popular Front.

"Agent Nichts, are you in place?" acting Captain Masquerade magically messaged me.

"Yes."

"Okay, you will have three mage targets along your vector, according to my recon earlier. They have dual-cores, but if you see any tri-cores, let us know immediately. Calamity and I will keep them locked down until you, Sonnetto, and Fang can dispatch the tri-core level threats. Do you copy?"

"I copy."

"I will be following from behind you, providing illusions to mask your vector. Once we eliminate the mage threat, the Persian armed forces will clear the non-mage threats. Sonnetto and Calamity will be coming from the opposite vector."

Honestly, it would have been easier to just drop a bunch of explosion formulae on the vulnerable Persians who had foolishly joined the fascist-imperial-backed coup. The Albish and American operatives had pretended to be socialists and nationalists who had been brutally silenced by the Prime Minister, using the Great Terror of the Old Federation that also loomed large in the popular imagination. (1) We only had clearance B, so we had to mostly ignore the well-meaning non-mages from the religious communities, which had gotten riled up and duped.

Until there was no more imperialism or fascism, there could never be a properly functional global capitalist market. Why would people bother entering a market if the Unified States was going to blow up your ship to make sure you couldn't compete against Richard Diamond? Plus, we had to do something about false advertising. While I generally believed that a person was responsible for their financial and life-changing decisions, I drew the line at fraud and false advertising. A healthy market depends on trust between consumers and producers. That includes the marketplace of violence.

"Confirm that you are ready to approach the COP."

"Confirmed," I replied.

"Take off, in three, two, one, fly!"

I launch into the air. If I were handling this as a military operation during the Great War, I would have taken the shovel route. Still, these days, we needed to fly high to avoid getting the non-mages becoming collateral damage in magical battles.

The enemy mages along my vector took off. Instead of using their non-mages as body shields like typical criminals, they moved to intercept. While that would preserve their comrades' lives, it would make my job significantly easier.

"All are tri-cores," I called out as I felt the cores of the powerful devices hum in my senses. It wasn't easy for most mages to figure that out, but I wasn't like most mages. Masquerade had failed to get proper intel, which meant they expected espionage and concealed their true strength. "Please advise."

"Blimey. Okay, everyone, we are to retreat. We are outgunned."

"Too late," I stated as I took evasive maneuvers.

It was like fighting twelve veterans simultaneously, even in the exponential power every core had.

As magical disruption blanketed my area, my computation orb sputtered. They might not try to kill me, but they captured me, which made me suspicious that Diamond might be involved. Regardless, the illusions were dispelled as well.

I had to push past my safe limits of mana just to survive. It had never been this bad. I usually had my Type-95 to handle tri-cores, but now I am stuck with a dual-core and face three tri-cores.

I have too much to live for. I don't want to die or get captured. Despite what the scroll on the mandate Emperor Zhu gave me, I might not even reincarnate like the other mandates. Then…who will protect my family? How will Sonnetto survive if they can't find a substitute for my mandate's mana?

Mana, like I had never experienced before, flowed out through me. I felt my magic circuits sing.

I summoned a mage blade because my gun wasn't cutting it, and a katana-like zweihander appeared in my hands.

I guess my magic decided to change how my spells work. Great…

I sliced through one mage operative. If I hadn't been supported by Masquerade, one of the enemy mages would have used those bullets that turn off computation orbs. The illusionist caught an enemy mage in his illusion bubble. That made this a battle between one and one.

Instead of flying at me, the last putschist darted towards my ally. If Masquerade went down, not only would I lose a valuable ally, but I would be in a two-versus-one.

I push my mana even harder. Silver fire enveloped me as I fought for what mattered to me more than anything else — the freedom and safety of myself and the people I cared about.

It was like time stopped as I sliced through the second mage. As I made an around, I felt my speed slow down. My computation orb was sputtering, not because of magical disruption but because my mana was struggling to leave my body and go into it.

"May-day, may-day!" I called out, but I don't know if the communication spell worked.

I used the last remainder of my flight spell to direct myself towards Sonnetto. How I got all the way over to her side of the battlefield was terrifying, but it might have to do with the released magic, as my computation has my computation literally turned into slag. Somehow, I had basically released all the magic in it to perform my maneuver.

Sorry Sonnetto.

My housemate didn't have much time to respond as she had to change her flight path to match my vector and speed as much as possible. I saw her have to burn through her henna tattoos just to keep up.

Well, we got to do another tactical hug. This time, I fused with her.

"You got to stop falling (for me) like this," Sonnetto joked in our shared thought space.

I thought I heard something suspicious. Regardless, I focused on the battle.

"Masquerade, do we have reinforces in-bound yet?" I called out through a communication spell. It was weird being able to use spells while I was basically living on my housemate's skin. It was better not to think about it too much.

"The royal couple had okayed Captain Ouyang and Jing-wei to scramble to our location when I gave the order to retreat. We have an ETA of thirty seconds. I have this side taken care of. The remaining target is still trapped in a bubble, and I have a safe retreat until reinforcements arrive. How about you?"

I looked around together with Sonnetto. I had my own eyes from my tattoo form, but I could also see through hers. It definitely gave new meaning to covering ones back.

"Fang and Calamity are holding out," I responded, pulling information from Sonnetto's perspective of what had happened. "They had seven targets - three tri-cores, four dual-cores. Calamity has taken out two target tri-cores orbs with her shield-piercing ammo, and Fang is running distraction in the air upon his nimbus. He can't do anything to a tri-core shield yet."

I wonder.

I tried to recreate the optical formula to shoot essentially laser beams.

…I worked kind of. It took a few attempts, and I was basically acting as a gunner on Air Sonnetto.

"Don't call me Air Sonnetto."

"Yes, ma'am."

As a mandate, I had a terrifying amount of mana, and somehow, I could feel the 'Mana of the Unknown Self' flow into me from Sonnetto.

I lasered down two dual-cores. Fang had grabbed Calamity Amb to get her to safety faster. The old Tejan just couldn't keep up with the outdated flight spell that was fused with her. Calamity couldn't fight back easily as she dangled over Fang's shoulder.

The remaining three enemy mages were closing in. They took evasive maneuvers as I and Sonnetto fired behind us while doing an attacking retreat. We put ourselves between our enemies and our teammates.

Tsk!

Sonnetto got hit. It hurt a lot, but she kept focus. I could feel her pain and how her body knitted itself back magically. I pushed some of my mana toward the injury instinctively, and it regenerated much faster, like a magical salve. I couldn't shoot and do this. Sonnetto had run out of barrier-piercing ammunition.

We were sitting ducks.

I tried to do other spells. None of them worked. I just didn't know how to do them without a computation orb and didn't have enough time to figure them out like I did the optical formula.

The remaining tri-core would be on us soon.

Suddenly, Jing-wei was on us, and we had wards. Invulnerable Calamity…was terrifying. I specialized in dogfights, but she was a gunner. Give the Tejan Sharpshooter a safe place to fight. She basically had the highest offense ability on our team. That wasn't to diss Fang Shiyu or the others. Fang had apparently literally kicked my ass.

I like to see him fight me when I have a gun.

"Tanya, don't shoot at Fang. He has been in the hospital enough."

"He needs to learn how to be more helpful in firefights between mages."

"He is on our team to help with non-mages mostly, but I agree."

The rest of the battle went well. Captain Ouyang, Masquerade, and Fang got injured, but only Ouyang would have to go to the hospital for a mage blade that had chopped off a hand. The Persians had some of the best magetech for prosthetics, so I think he will be fine. With his preference for gloves, no one will know. It's still a shame.

Because I was aware Sonnetto might have access to some memories I don't want to share, I tried to not to think about them.

"Fang Shiyu isn't the one you should be focused on training," Sonnetto stated in our mind.

"What do…"

"Is this what frictional unemployment feels like."

"No, that is when—"

"Your skills become obsolete, and we lost…you lost your ability use your abilities."

"Will we…I need to get disability or retrained?"

"We are not sure."

"Well, it looked like we could still cast some spells. Maybe this will be very temporary."

"Um…Sanya…Tennotto…how about we land now? This is getting confusing, and we don't understand what is going on."

Sonnetto expelled me again—this time, with much less force. I got a feeling like I was so close to grasping something super important. It was odd explaining what it was being someone different. Sonnetto's emotions were unintelligible to me, but I sensed she couldn't understand mine yet because I wasn't conscious of them either. I remember an old myth from Sonnetto's brain about humanity once being too powerful, so the gods cut them in half, and that soulmates and our yearning for them was our desire to become whole with our other half. Why that was on my housemate's mind was beyond me.

I also picked up maybe if we found Ouyang's hand, we might get it reattached.

Sonnetto looked at me with concern.

Great, she might have picked up on some of my memories.

The last thing I wanted was to explain something from my life, like the mistakes my Freikorps made in 1934 during the January Uprising and with the leaders of the Spartacus League. We had bad intel, and it was a turbulent time! Rosa Lindenberg and Karl Landsknecht were Bolsheviks for crying out loud; revolutions are their M.O.! Sure, the Social Democrats' reputation never recovered due to their association with my Freikorp despite Elya's attempt to cover up our mistake. Yes, Hilary Brecht was also pissed. We took out the Kaiser's Men, so that must have canceled it out, right?

"Elya and you were a menace," she signed ruefully.

Yep, she picked up on some of my memories. That was what I got for trying not to think about things. I was not sure I was ready for her to see all the stuff I had done during my war and early Nichts years. Well, her past life as Roxanne put a hit out on her husband's second wife (whoever those two people were), so I don't want to be judged for what my past selves did.

---

Charleston, Unified States - 17th of July, 1950

Richard Diamond sat on his porch as the house prisoners refilled his water. The sun beat down heavily on this Summer day and parched his throat. One of the inmates had even collapsed in heat exhaustion while picking cotton and didn't get up despite the prison warden whipping him. Some complained their treatment was cruel and unusual punishments. Such pleas to morality fell on deaf ears of the public. The courts had decided that nothing the private prisons did was too malicious. Actually, the courts had determined the people who were defending criminals were the ones who were suspicious. That was clearly a sign of intent to aid and abet. Criminals didn't deserve sympathy, and to be too poor was a crime.

Really, one should save empathy for people they care about, and the only person one should care about is themselves.

Regardless, if one inmate died, they could replace them with another convicted felon. There was a constant influx of them, and not enough Americans could muster enough energy to stop Diamond. Plus, they had a fresh population of Aztecs, which allowed them to build many more prison plantations. The best part of it was not only didn't Diamond not have to pay the prisoners for their productive labor, but the government paid him to manage them. What business owner didn't want to make their labor into a revenue item on their PNL? Really, Diamond did not know why other countries didn't join the Unified States in subordinating a large portion of their population to the highly profitable prison system. One in three black men was already being processed through it, and the Silver Legion was ready to increase that figure even higher.

He turned on the radio and heard a song that always made him nostalgic — "What Did You Learn in School Today?"

Diamond liked to imagine his father was looking down on him from heaven, proud of his ingenious son for creating such a profitable business empire. It was all thanks to White Silver's fantastic idea of privatizing previously governmental institutions that inspired Diamond to build these prisons, and it was thanks to his dad for introducing him to White Silver's work. Now, his family's old plantation was back in operation, and Diamond had undone the harm to the hierarchy of the world perpetrated by the reformers who had enough common sense to give up on the foolish emancipatory visions of the Abolitionists. That had been enough for Diamond to get a foot in the door to turn back time.

"Master Diamond, sorry to speak, but you have a call from President Yockey," a house prisoner stated.

The entrepreneur turned off his radio and picked up the receiver.

"Richie, here."

His brow furrowed as he heard Yockey explain what had happened.

"What do you mean the Foreign Office asked for more time to think about the deal? There are twenty crates of silver, for crying out loud! What is there to think about?"

The President was not happy with Diamond's response.

"Okay," the businessman attempted to placate. "We need to go to plan B. If they aren't persuaded by money alone, how about we redirect the least white and least educated refugees to the Francois Republic and the Allied Kingdom? Have Pulitizer unleash a firehose of stories about migrant rapists and murderers. That should cause a nativist backlash to Catcherlain's administration. That is when we promised as part of the alliance to blow up the refugee ships in international waters—two birds with one stone. We get the alliance, and there are fewer useless people in the world. The Albish will love it. Using boats with guns to kill the poors is their whole brand image, and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. We might even get Leon Plum in the Republic booted out and get our guy elected."

When everything else fails, use immigration. It works every time. The liberals are dumb, simple people. Their tribal instincts demonstrate why they have failed to evolve to be sophisticated enough to see past such obvious deceits. They wish they could be high-IQ individualists like me.

The next thing surprised Diamond. Somehow, Interpol knew about Operation Boot and foiled one of the revolutionary cells. Could there be a mole in the Silver Legion? Who was foiling the Unified States at every turn? It had to be the communists. It was always to those Marksist-Levinist bastards and their ruthless espionage.

"Okay, we will just have to be more forceful then," Richard Diamond stated. "We bring 'evidence' of mages of mass destruction to the League of Nations. We coax the Albish to go along with it. Ispagnia will join us. They need that oil as much as they do. We get a deal between my Albish Royal Petroleum buddies and your Balburton company, and they will go along with tricking the international community into thinking that we are 'spreading democracy' and 'preemptively getting a threat on the international stage'."

The President was dubious.

"Just convince a red shirt in the opposition party to wave a bag of unmarked substance. Convince him that it is real evidence, and his credibility will convince people that the Silver Legion is not making it up. We might have to give Albish Royal Petroleum contracts for drilling near or off the coast of the Unified States as a concession. We have the Aztec's oil and natural gas reserves now, so the delay in getting Persian oil is bearable, and developing off-shore drilling is going to take a few decades. By the time they can actually utilize those contracts, there won't be a Commonwealth anymore."

Then, President Yockey pressured Diamond harder on the other side of the line. The populist wing of the Silver Legion had gotten antsy about all the failed promises. They wanted White Silver. They were upset that Zhangzi had joined the Popular Front. While Yockey had wanted to cow Brotsky into agreeing to a non-aggression pact by taking over the country south of the Federation, Diamond had barely soothed things by using the emboldened Federation leader as a threat to push liberals into buddying up with fascists.

Yet, something had happened. Someone kept meddling with his plots, causing them to fail. Someone else who was his equal but on the other side. Whoever that was, Diamond would make them pay for getting in the way of the Silver Legion.

As for Mary Canary, the woman had gone berserk, trying desperately to rescue her family and run away from Diamond. Instead of her family being leveraged against her, she grew far too powerful and tried to reverse the table. They had no choice but to sedate her. Right now, Diamond was working on back channels to get Figmund Sreud and his hypnotism computation orb. Then, the business wouldn't even have to keep Canary's family alive anymore.

They could die in that mine for all he cared. They were the wrong type of Old Faith anyway. Several Canarys even bought into Amber Canary's foolish abolitionist version of liberation theology, so they should draw upon that historical memory of their ancient ancestors being slaves to stand in solidarity against the modern version.

These Canarys, religious or not, were just as foolish as their agnostic great-great-aunt. Slavery was illegal and coercive. What Richard Diamond was doing was legal and all part of living in a society with laws. If the poors didn't want to be prisoners, they should have worked harder and been smarter instead of becoming homeless or stealing to feed themselves.

If one thought about it, these prisoners out in the fields this hot day had it great. They got just enough food not to die. If the prison population got too high due to the monopolists making a planning error, they could just selectively reduce the food intake for some of the prisoners and have them dig their own graves before a fresh batch arrived. In Diamond's mind, all of this was extremely generous compared to just killing them or not feeding them at all.

Really, Diamond might be the most generous person in the world. No one was housing and feeding as many poors as he was. They should be thanking him and giving him some kind of humanitarian award. The entrepreneur even let the more valuable prisoners have more food in exchange for them keeping the less obedient ones in line, just like the moderates were given more luxuries in exchange for keeping the poors in line in the general population of the world on behalf of their monopolist overlords.

Thinking of MI15, it was time to isolate White Silver now that the Pawn had crossed the board. Yockey had given his orders. Checkmate, Diamond guaranteed, was only in a few more days.

He turned on the radio and switched to a different change until he heard another of his favorite songs — 'Anything Goes'.

---

Tigress River, Baghdad, Persian Empire, July 18th, 1950

Calamity Amb excitedly watched the cake get brought out. In her pocket was a piece of paper, which she trying very hard not to think about.

"Happy birthday!" everyone in MI15 and Jane Forger shouted.

Tanya blew out her candles.

They decided to celebrate Tanya's birthday in a picnic area near the Tigress River. Countless people had come there to cool off from the summer heat by taking a swim. They were no different. They needed the break. All of them had spent the whole week working with Tanechka and Interpol to see what could be done to steer world events toward stopping the fascists. Now, they were going to put that aside and have some fun.

"So, how old are you now?" Masquerade had to ask.

"Seventy-one if you count both lives," Tanya admitted thoughtfully. She had become much more open. As Sonnetto explained, 'Every time one finds acceptance instead of hurt for living one's truth, it becomes easier to share.'

"That young, huh?" Calamity joked.

"More like you are ancient," Masquerade countered.

"And it doesn't even show. You want my skincare routine?"

"You mean getting struck by lightning? I would rather pass."

"You only have to do it once, and it is permanent, I swear," she replied in a way that made it abundantly clear she was joking.

After they finished their cake and played some party games, Fang Shiyu addressed the birthday girl. He had just gotten out of the hospital, but like most mages, the martial artist had bounced back to full health.

"Would you like to learn water walking?" he offered.

Tanya considered it and then agreed. She could no longer use computation orbs now. It had been a major problem for the mandate, but now she needed to learn how to use her new Mandate powers, which were water-based.

She followed the young mortal man to the river. It was funny seeing the rule reversal. Fortunately for Tanya, her conjured clothes never seemed to get wet. Fang had her use the bag Masquerade had given to Tanya as a birthday gift as a training weight. It would force her to balance focus and adjust to shifting weight.

The bag had a white poppy design on it, which was a bit contentious given the poppy debate raging in Albion, but Masquerade said if anyone complained, she could say they actually fought in the war. They got to decide what flower they wanted to use for themselves. Other people could 'bugger off' about making a desire for peace contentious and political. The birthday girl wanted peace, too, and appreciated the gift.

If Tanya had a moral core, it was the people in her life and an unshakable desire for peace. She wanted nothing more than not to have a war pulled back into a war anything like the Great War. Calamity did not wish to war either, but she couldn't help but desire to save the people suffering under the fascists. Peace was to be desired, but inaction felt downright sinful. They were still figuring out what they could do in order not to force countless mages into becoming traumatized magic addicts like Tanya and Calamity.

Calamity Amb had gotten Tanya a bosun whistle. The Americans had always loved the ocean. It felt freeing and away from the nonsense happening on land. The mandate seemed to like it, too. It wasn't clear if it was because she generally liked it as an object or because she appreciated the sentiment behind it. Calamity asked Sonnetto for her opinion, and Masquerade was nearby to translate.

"I think she liked that you gave it to her. She spent a large part of her post-war life relatively isolated, and Tanya needs human connection to steady her."

Calamity could not imagine what it must have been for her new family member who had come from another world.

Sonnetto had given Tanya a grumpy cat doll. Actually, she gave everyone a doll she had made. Calamity got a Lamb…Calamity Lamb. It was clever. Made the American chuckle.

Suddenly, an old feeling washed over the centennial.

"What is it?" the thespian inquired.

Sonnetto held her tight.

"It is a sense of deja vu with our situation. Seeing Tanya learning to walk out there on the water's surface reminds me of the day I left my sister to go to the Union."

Masquerade hummed. "I feel you got a lesson to share again."

Calamity chuckled ruefully as she started to reach for the piece of paper in her pocket. "You ain't wrong. Do you want to hear my thoughts or are you tired of politicking and worrying?"

"I admit I'm tired, sorry," he replied. "There will be more time in the future."

She nodded. Sometimes, one has to live in the moment, or they will never really live at all. With that Calamity crumpled the piece of paper in her pocket.

Tanya got up and then started to skate across the water with no trouble. It looked like she had figured it out. The woman gave a rare smile as she glided across the water. Suddenly, Calamity could see the real Tanya. She had gotten past the Silver Mirror to her soul form.

Tanya von Weiss - Free Wave form - Naze​

Calamity wiped her eyes as she kept a smile on her face for the youngins had their fun. She can tell them that Germania later rejected her asylum request. The moment their trip was over, she would be deported back to the Unified States. They would need to figure out what they were going to do.

---

Citations

1. Risen, James (16 April 2000). "Secrets of History: The C.I.A. in Iran – A special report.; How a Plot Convulsed Iran in '53 (and in '79)". The New York Times. Retrieved 16 July 2015.
2. ABC News. "Court: CIA Tortured German During Botched Rendition. Khaled El-Masri." 13 December, 2012. <https://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/court-cia-tortured-german-botched-rendition/story?id=17962408>
3. BBC. "Germany expels CIA official in US spy row." 10 July 2014 <https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-28243933>
4. Kinzer, Stephen (2003). All the Shah's Men: An American Coup and the Roots of Middle East Terror. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons. ISBN 978-0-471-26517-7.
5. Kressin, Wolfgang K. (May 1991). "Prime Minister Mossaddegh and Ayatullah Kashani From Unity to Enmity: As Viewed from the American Embassy in Tehran, June 1950 – August 1953" (PDF). University of Texas at Austin. Archived (PDF) from the original on November 9, 2013.

Lorelei's Notes:

Thanks to:
DrkShdow and Pinklest101 for betareading
Naze for creating art

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Lorelei's Note:

The events of this chapter happen sometime after Chapter 13. This chapter is mostly about economics from different perspectives at the time. This is fiction, and I try to make it clear that I don't condone the obviously evil, genocidal-defending rhetoric of some of these characters. I am not also trying to make false equivalencies between very different ideologies but instead airing out their respective dirty laundry. I enjoy writing from various philosophical perspectives, but I have neglected the Keynesians of this period.

This chapter serves as a historical context during the Interwar Period. Where YS canon combines elements of both World Wars, I am taking elements of World War II and one hypothetical World War III from our world.

If you don't like economics, nerdiness, and politics, you can skip this side story. Some things will overlap with what was said in chapter 14.

---

League of Nations Monetary and Financial Conference - Wien, Germania - 7th of July, 1950 (1)
Back to the Present

Sir Evan Jude Kaines drained his first cup of coffee as he mentally groaned. He did not know why he bothered going to this conference. They were supposed to be forging alliances through a global monetary and financial system that would tie economies together and preserve peace. Instead, the catastrophizing socialists from the developing world and the theocratic capitalists from the Unified States would not get along.

Kaines was an economist representing the Allied Kingdom and Commonwealth of Great Albion. While liberation theology, Gandhi socialism, Orthodox Marksist-Levinist socialism, Tanechkism, and Brotskyism were all familiar to the man, he had to quickly read up on the Silver Legion's economic theology of 'Legionism' for the conference. All the grunts carried a copy of The White Silver Creed, which apparently had been translated and abridged from its Germanian version, which had a different title. Kaines did not know how to get the original one since it was not available in stores. Apparently, the Unified States required high school students to read the abridged version, along with Eric Arthur Briar's Animal Farm and 1984, which satirized and amplified the horrors of the Old Federation.

The author of the Creed, who went by 'White Silver', came across as a far more developed version of the young F. A. Mayek and his contentious ideas. Her essay on Planned Economies started with a lampooning of the Kaines' theories. Instead of taking the mainstream view that destabilized capitalism resulted in fascism because the ownership of the means of production remained private, Silver insisted that the planned economy produced fascism and socialism. She referred to the two extremes as totalitarian and claimed that the 'humanitarianism' of Kaines' policies resulted in a constant ceding of more and more economic freedom.

She imagined a spectrum with maximum freedom proposed by libertarianism on one end and minimum freedom proposed by communism and fascism on the other. She proposed a free market where no moral considerations were ever externally imposed by the public upon a person's discretion in how they used their capital, with exceptions for a narrow definition of coercive violence because 'when does a person decide to stop questioning the decisions of what people do with their property'. Essentially, White Silver had created a slippery slope argument where the judgment and prudence of the governing body were not trusted to know when to stop.

The mainstream academic view at the time of what made an economy capitalist or socialist was who owned the means of production. When given a choice between fascism (a political order) and socialism (economic order), the bourgeoisie tended to go for fascism because they maintained their ownership over capital. By 'destabilized capitalism' causing fascism, the mainstream idea was that when an economy fell apart due to rampant unemployment and inflation in a capitalist system like what existed during the Great Depression, discontent and reactionary populism gave rise to fascists. That was why one could have a capitalist fascist state like the Unified States was under the Silver Legion.

It was interesting, however, to the economist how fascists had deluded themselves into thinking they were on the side of freedom while creating all sorts of loopholes to discriminate, oppress, incarcerate, and kill minorities as a matter of maintaining cultural homogeneity and racial hierarchy — a Janus system of that gives economic freedom for some but suffocating desperation for others. Some people just lacked Kaines' enlightened understanding of the world and did not comprehend the difference between necessity and actual prejudices.

Had White Silver not written her theories before the Great Depression, the Albish economist would have dismissed her as a historical revisionist. He could forgive her for not actually knowing what would happen in the future. Free market capitalism of the early twentieth century had created out-of-control monopolization, consumption, and production. When consumption took a hit in one section of the economy, it resulted in a domino effect due to the asymmetry in production. Businesses crumbled and laid off their workers, which led to more unemployment. In turn, more unemployment led to less consumption. This vicious cycle continued consuming not only one nation but spreading across the world as the trading partners with the Unified States got sucked into the same vicious cycle like a whirlpool.

Realizing that there were vulnerabilities in the economy at both the national and international levels, countries across the world adopted Kaines' theories to great success. They now had safeguards in place to prevent overproduction, underconsumption, excessive inflation, and unemployment. Monopolies where business failure would impact the economy too much were broken up. Savings accounts now had government insurance in case of bank failure, where people would hardly even notice that the government had temporarily propped up their bank as the solvent company was transferred to a new owner.

White Silver's prescriptive economics made her quite the stooge for them. She recommended more than an unplanned economy to avoid the supposed eventual 'totalitarianism' and 'hubris' of Kaines' theories. Instead of going to an unembedded free market where the state left markets to themselves, like what had existed before the Great Depression to some extent, she proposed embedded capitalism where the function of the state was to protect the free market.

Under her embedded capitalism, the state would have a well-funded police force and military, which would maintain the 'freedom' of the market domestically and abroad. The state would also proactively protect the interests of businesses by stamping out socialism globally, limiting the power of unions, keeping taxes on businesses to a minimum, eliminating most regulations, and financially supporting businesses in times of crisis. Instead of managing consumption through welfare under Kaines' planned economy, White Silver insisted that supporting businesses with these 'free market' policies would trickle down to prosperity for the ordinary people.

Sir Evan Jude Kaines could not be more skeptical of Silver's claims, given all the research to the contrary; however, her theories presupposed the inability of science to understand the economy and what was best for people at the grand scale, denouncing such efforts as 'scientism' and 'human hubris'. Then, the amateur economist took up the philosopher's pen to predict history with her novel definitions.

Reading between the lines, the Albish economist saw propaganda for a country run by monopolists for monopolists. Her ideal state would only support monopolists in growing their businesses even larger. The workers have little to no means to secure the means of survival democratically through welfare or collectively through unions without swift crackdowns from the state. Kaines could already hear the monopolists cheering for lower taxes and not having to deal with pesky strikes or bargaining with unions.

The constantly destabilized economy, according to the mainstream view stated earlier, would result in fascism like Silver Legion's theocratic racist ideology that built off of the discontent in the working class. With the socialist revolutionaries brutally suppressed, the Silver Legion was the only shop in town for recruitment for the countless frustrated working-class people from whom to draw membership for a populist movement. They just needed to keep directing them towards 'enemies' blamed for their suffering. These enemies had to be anyone other than the monopolists who benefited from the workers' exploitation.

Kaines sighed, finished his coffee, and put aside his frustrations with how the Silver Legion demonized him. He had read their favorite book, and now he had to deal with the real deal at the conference.

The League of Nations had gathered the supposedly most influential and successful economic theorists around the world to head a commission. Their stated objective was to prevent another war, prevent future market crashes, and lessen the impact of individual nations on global markets. They were supposed to do this through the adoption of multilateral financial cooperation and the creation of new international organizations like the World Bank (1). From Kaine's perspective, the following were the most notable attendees, but only because of their influence on world events:

• Allied Kingdom - Sir Evan Jude Kaines himself, who was associated with the Pacifist Coalition Party and the most accomplished living economist of his time.
• Unified States - Alistair Drake Whittle (1), who was a mouthpiece of Silver Legion cultist historical revisionism and espoused the Silver Legion called 'Legionism'. They were similar to the Die-Hard Capitalist Faction but far more extreme. They were warmongers, anti-bureaucracy, and advocated global genocide towards communists.
• Russy Federation - Abel Adams, who roared Brotsky's platitudes and got into a frenzy when confronted with sweet reasonableness and tolerance. (2) Essentially, another example of how communists were just the Party of Catastrophe. (3) The Brotsky faction did not trust liberals, took a pro-war stance against the spread of fascism, and had a rather anti-bureaucratic position on planned economies.

Unfortunately for Kaines, the Federation saw him as an imperialism-defending monster, and the Unified States considered him the second coming of Karl Marks. Kaines saw himself as a centrist in a world largely on board with a proven track record of his theories on getting the world out of the Great Depression. Fortunately, the representative of the Unified States, Alistair Whittle, had actually been generally amicable to Sir Evan Jude Kaines, unlike Abel Auburn, who couldn't keep his catastrophizing criticisms to himself.

Where Alistair Whittle advocated for the elimination of technocrats, Abel Adams pushed the Brotskyist line of decentralization. Both saw bureaucracy as evil and advocated for increasing the 'freedom of the people' through their different economic paradigms. For Kaines, freedom was a good thing, but there was such a thing as too much freedom and too little administration. As he had told an Old Federation technocrat buddy of his:

"The people of the world would support my policies if they could only understand them. People just can't comprehend their needs at the national and international levels, nor can they analyze problems scientifically. They need experts like us to guide them to a more prosperous and peaceful future. They just don't know how much civil servants and subject-matter experts are the backbone of any well-functioning society because we are not in the limelight like politicians.

"However, if people actually got to meet their civil servants, the people would never elect us. They would fall for whichever charismatic dunderheads caught their eye with nice-sounding, empty promises and a smile. Democracy like this results in simple ideas that just don't work in the real world.

"As for the libertarian types, both the Communist and Capitalist variants will doom their countries by making those democratic reforms. All of those inevitably shift control to regional governments. They are effectively advocating for lobotomies and then putting their hands and stomachs in charge. That is what happens when you eliminate the civil servants and transfer their responsibilities away from the central government. At least the Dzhugashvilis and Churbills of the world knew enough to have experts like us in charge of a centralized administration." (6)

Getting down to the business of their commission, Sir Evan Jude Kaines introduced the next subject of the conference.

"On the topic of reparations. I continue to oppose onerous reparations against the countries who have lost their wars. As I predicted during the peace negotiations in Londonium, the policy of lighter reparations on Germania has ended the cycle of revanchism we had seen leading up to the Great War. Now, Germania is a staunch European ally in our now interconnected markets." (7)

"There is no counterfactual evidence of this," Whittle countered. "We can't possibly know if lessening war reparations from what the Francois Republic proposed actually led to Germania becoming more docile. In fact, they were more ready for war because they had more resources to plow into their industry. My colleague Kaines is just ceding more power over reparation policy from prosperous nations to the League of Nations by hobbling the natural way in which countries compete for resources to stabilize and encourage industry. Going against nature by having this international body intervene in this process actually makes wars more likely to happen because there are few consequences for going to war.

"The Unified States' perspective is that no one is more responsible for the Old Federation's adventurist warmongering than Kaines and his policies. His ideas have led governments astray here in Europe. For example, his policies empower workers to form unions, which not only stifle businesses but are hotbeds for communism. The Silver Legion instead recommends that we form tight military alliances to safeguard markets from communist terrorists, construct military bases along the border with the Federation, and swiftly punish them with economic sanctions and military force if they send their terrorists across our borders."

Kaines wanted to scream but bit his tongue. He didn't know where to start. Whittle had done a whole gish gallop of widely controversial claims and then ended with the story on everyone's mind — Brotsky's supposedly 'rogue' Red Guard mages attempting to blow up Zhangzi Express. Each claim would take several times longer to disprove than it took Whittle to say, and it was important to deescalate tensions, not build them up. The public would interpret it as Kaines losing the 'debate' when it aired on television or when people read the countless papers monopolized by Henry Pulitzer.

That being said, Kaines still mentally groaned as he had to listen to war-mongering Brotskyist next.

"I agree with the economist from the Allied Kingdom on lessening the reparations on Germania," Adams began, attempting to sound reasonable. "But only that far. Kaines values peace so much that he exacerbates injustices in the world. Under General Secretary Brotsky, we are doing hard work to give justice to people harmed by the Old Federation." (9)

While the current leader of the Federation was disgusted with the starvations under Dzhugashvili, Leon Brotsky still had countless authoritarian tendencies himself. His propagandists merely covered up his blood-stained record with slogans about being the kinder version of communism. The only reason why anyone thought Brotsky was better than the former leader was that he had the benefit of the opposition party when he wasn't in power and spent all of his time criticizing the Old Federation for its evident failings with the benefit of hindsight and not having to be the person who made those decisions. If Brotsky had been in charge back then, Kaines was certain the radical would have done much of the same things and also pursued expanding the Federation even more aggressively. Those in the Albish Prime Minister's cabinet had told Kaines that Leon Brotsky planned to invade Norden and was funding a putsch by the Brotskyist faction in fascist Ispagnia.

"What about the people forcibly relocated in the Federation?" Whittle retorted to the Brotskyist Adams. "Are they going to get reparations and brought back to their former homes?"

"Brotsky holds the position that the mixing of the races will create one true race of mankind," he replied. "Bringing an end to racial divisions, which is why General Secretary Brotsky supports the policy of mixing of ethnic groups within the New Federation. He actually got his ideas from the melting pot of the Unified States." (10)

The Legionist's face twisted in disgust. "Don't you know this will cause birth defects and lowered IQ? You can't just mix people like that. People from different stocks are biologically incompatible. This is why we banned such unconscionable unions in my country." (11)

Kaines was a eugenicist as much as any self-respecting intellectual of the time. He could have brought up Brotsky's culpability when the man, as a leader in the Red Guard, horrifically put down the Kronstadt rebellion; however, the Albish scholar felt the committee had gotten off-topic as more members jumped in to add their opinions about the races of the world.

Clearing his throat, the famous Albish economist addressed Adams. "What are you suggesting we do about reparations?"

"We believe this commission uses the powers invested in the League of Nations and the International Court to implement reparations to punish crimes against humanity and non-mages committed by countries. Currently, the policies focus on individuals and organizations but have no mechanism for stopping countries from committing the same crimes. Reparations from the offending country to the harmed populations should be this tool of justice."

"General Secretary has long advocated for the proletariat using any means necessary to secure a socialist government, including terrorism," Kaines pointed out. (20) "Are you suggesting that we should impose reparations on the Federation for their crimes against humanity and non-mages as well?"

"The Brotsky administration holds that those actions are only necessary because of the actions of the Unified States and their allies. They force us to have to match their tactics and militarization. I remind you, Russy had an agrarian economy of mostly peasants before the revolutionary socialists had their revolution. Our socialist planned economy has allowed us to industrialize and provide robust public education rapidly. We have some of the most outstanding scientists in the world, and magetech has significantly closed the gap with the Unified States, which has a massive headstart.

"The Federation believes that the Unified States' genocidal fear of socialism is a reaction to our progress as it threatens the hegemony their capitalists desire over world affairs. They are forcing us to enact unfortunate policies of necessity to keep up with their arms race, resulting in the impoverishment of our people since we have to move production capacity from quality-of-life improvements to military production. Their constant spying requires us to have ridiculous safeguards, which forces us to do more surveillance of our population and be paranoid. Their espionage requires us to divert resources and personnel further away from improving the lives of our people.

"We have regularly pleaded with the Unified States to stop their unprovoked warmongering, but they have taken the path of destroying socialism in the world. Peace with them is impossible. Because they use spies against us, we must use spies against them. Because they use terrorism against us, we use terrorism against them. Because they fund coups against socialist administrations (elected or otherwise), we have to do the same. The evils of capitalism create the evils of opposing it."

Adams had provoked the Silver Legion economist once more. After a prolonged debate of perspectives between the two, Kaines brought it back to the subject of reparations. The Albish man worked as the voice of reason between the two men who represented, in his opinion, two equally culpable warmongering administrations. Leon Brotsky wanted capitalism to end in the entire world. Unless he had gotten more pragmatic after getting into power, then Brotsky would have pursued the communist version of jingoism.

"We believe that reparations would curtail the Unified States and allow us to stop this foolish arms race," Abel Adams claimed. "Actual peace would be best for the Russy Federation instead of this build-up towards war."

"What you really want is wealth redistribution on a global scale," Whittle raged with his face going slightly red. "No nation with a proper nationalist government would agree to give the wealth that is rightfully theirs through conquest to some foreign people. The job of an ethical government is to act in accordance with the guiding star of the nation's self-interest. If anyone asks for reparations from the Unified States, they can take our money from our cold, dead hands because you will have to kill us first. Be warned, we have the most powerful military the world has ever seen."

Kaines had to take a moment to formulate a response. Instead of reacting to Whittle, he focused on Adams.

"I think such reparation policies would just encourage countries having antagonistic relationships, seeing themselves as victims justified in getting paid back," Kaines responded with exhausted professionalism. "What if the crime is incredibly heinous? How far back and how thoroughly will they comb history until they have satisfied their desire for justice?"

The Albish economist then took a sip of his coffee before continuing. Talking to these idiots drained him far too much.

"Granting this power to the ICC will lead to requests for exorbitant amounts of remedial funds," Kaines explained. "If they don't get those funds, the victim country will feel justified in war. If they do get them, then the perpetrator country will see it as humiliation, justifying revanchism. Additionally, while I support common welfare, which includes this redistribution function, the purpose of that welfare isn't justice but peace and stability. That is why I do not support reparations like you propose. In the spirit of fairness, I am curious about what crime you think deserves the ICC and Interpol interceding on."

"I would like to start with the starvation of the people of Bengal during the Great War," Adams replied. "We believe that reparations are owed to the people of Bengal when Winston Churbull diverted food from the region to Albion. (12) His actions resulted in four million people in Bengal starving to death because they did not have enough food available to eat. (12) Despite Albish pushback from the imperial administration, Churbull insisted, claiming, 'I hate Bharati. They are beastly people with a beastly religion. The famine was their own fault for breeding like rabbits.' (12, 13) It is clearly a crime against humanity."

The Albish economist creased his brow in confusion as Abel Adams concluded by reading this from his prepared notes.

"Okay, now this is getting rather personal," the Kaines replied. "You no doubt know that I served as the advisor with special authority for the Bharati financial and monetary policy. I supported and proposed that the Prime Minister and his administration reduce consumption in Bharat to cover the abnormal war expenditure. (14) War is a time of necessity. I have changed my mind about my 'profit inflation' strategy, but peace is what will avoid those situations of necessity.

"As for Churbill's comments, this was and still is the orthodox Albish imperial attitude, even if you don't like it. (12) First, the Bharati simply missed the bus for the industrial revolution. (13) Don't blame us for them missing it. As the great playwright stated, 'Foul is fair, and fair is foul; for foul is useful, and fair is not.' (15) What I mean is that opportunism, which you see as exploitation and unfair, has led to the prosperity that we have today.

"We can most clearly see the soundness of my economics whenever foreigners come over from their less developed countries like your Russy Federation. They are absolutely dumbfounded by the abundance of quantity and variety they see at our grocery stores. Many of them obviously want to emulate the West after seeing the benefits that my policies deliver to our national populations who adore and vote consistently against catastrophizing socialist parties like yours, Adams. Unfortunately, some backward people, like that agitating revolutionary socialist Gandhi, have gotten the idea that escaping our professionally managed imperial governance is best for them. They have this misguided sense of fairness and aren't patient enough to see where it is all ultimately headed."

The Albish economist took a deep breath. It was not enjoyable having to represent the voice of reason.

"If they were patient instead of overreacting like you," Kaines continued. "Then they would eventually see that experts with proven track records like me are guiding the entire world to economic bliss. (15) People need to stop this revolution or premature abandonment of capitalism nonsense. We on this committee should all keep level heads. I suggest we instead commit to the following these four governing principles — controlling population (which will reduce famines), avoiding war and civil dissent (with suppression if needed), willingness to entrust scientists, and managing the rate of accumulation of production and consumption (which will also reduce famines). (15) Eventually, everyone will be uplifted into prosperity, and the gods of avarice, usury, and precaution will cease to be necessary. (15) We can live in socialism then instead of jumping ahead like you in the Federation."

"You are calling your genocide—" the socialist started to retort.

"Stop there," Sir Evan Kaines interjected. "I don't want to hear any moralizing about causing famines from someone representing Russy Federation."

Adams bit his tongue in forced civility. As for the Silver Legionist, Whittle had opted to keep quiet while the centrist and the socialist butted heads.

"Our committee is here to make sure famines can be managed properly," Kaines reminded the communists. "When they do occur, the devastation can be contained to the proper level by the World Bank and other organizations we are to form."

"Oh, I understand where you are coming from, Kaines," the Legionist claimed. "Noble aspirations, all of them with this World Bank. We at the Unified States fully support its creation, but we think the US dollar should be used instead of your proposed global currency as we already have a very stable currency, which is pegged to the gold standard. (1) If you would like our support in its creation, that and a few minor changes are all we ask for."

This offer surprised the Albish economist. Despite their unseemly domestic policies, the Americans actually came across as quite reasonable. That did not mean this wasn't a big ask. It would give the US a lot of power over global monetary policy. Kaines was well aware that the US happily joined in alliances as long as they got to take the lead and never felt imposed upon by others.

Kaines was stuck between swallowing his unease or flat-out rejecting the Unified States. The former would move the US and Europa, becoming allies, while the latter would leave Europa in between the Russy Federation and Unified States. Leon Brotsky did not trust liberals not to betray socialists, advocating for the United Front alliance of exclusively socialist administrations and parties.

If Europa kept siding with the Unified States, the newly elected President Leon Plum of France would find his plan to protect his country doomed. Plum advocated for the Popular Front alliance between liberals and communists. He was in search of allies since his country was partially surrounded by fascism from Ispagnia, Ildoa, and, if one included the control of the ocean, the Unified States. Their only potential liberal allies were Germania and Albion. The Russy Federation wanted Francios Republic to give Dzayer its independence, which the Republic would never do, further pushing Plum's country towards joining the Unified States' fascist faction. Like the Allied Kingdom, the Francois Republic had a lot of historical ties with the Unified States. While liberals hated fascism, they hated communists too.

Given the diplomatic head start of the Unified States, the Republic might, out of necessity, join the fascist faction, which would, in turn, prove Leon Brotsky was right that liberals are not to be trusted.

As for Sir Evan Jude Kaines, he had little love for the Francois. The Albish and the Francois have a long-lasting rivalry. If the communists invaded Europa in their fear of being snuffed out of existence, his country would join up with the Unified States and the Republic against a communist threat under current diplomatic conditions. Germania could go either way, having plenty of reasons for not trusting the Federation and the other European partners, as well as being the center of a lot of undesirable foreign public-opinion influence campaigns by the fascists and communist powers.

However, this commission was here to prevent war. The Federation just had to be okay with the World Bank as proposed by Kaines without significant changes.

"Having read your proposal for how the World Bank should function," Adams stated tersely when his turn came. "I can only see it as a way to dangle the means of survival in front of desperate countries to get them to agree to conditions they wouldn't otherwise. You are just setting up the usury as the global policy to keep your empires going after all your colonies get their independence."

"Surely, we can compromise," Kaines offered.

Adams calmed down. "Actually, we do have one offered by the Popular—"

"What is so wrong about about making a little profit?" Whittle interjected with a smug smile, setting off the Brotskist again with some tactical understatement.

"This is why we say Western empires depend too much on draining the rest of the world of the value of their hard work in order to keep your opulence going," the representative of the Federation lectured. "Your governments need to exploit other countries to stay in power, too. By pumping in a constant inflow of wealth into your countries, you keep your 'patiently' complicit local populations voting for their current capitalist administrations that will never become socialist, as you theorize. The voters in Albion have rationalized, like you did earlier, why the rest of the world has to suffer for their benefit. You may care about the workers in your country, but Albish people clearly don't care about the plight in your out-of-sight colonies. This is why socialism rises in the rest of the world and goes nowhere in Western Europa. Fortunately, there is no way any of the League of Nations will allow your proposal to pass as is."

Kaines rubbed his forehead. The Party of Catastrophe struck again to moralize impractically.

'Adams is right about one thing,' Kaines thought to himself while finishing his second cup of coffee. 'There is no way for my policies to get enacted.'

The Party of Catastrophe had simply too much representation in the current League of Nations. The League would never accept Kaines' proposals without some compromises, and his country would never accept radical socialist ones. If the League insisted on enforcing socialism at this conference, much of Europa and the Unified States would abandon the international organization and just form a new one where they are in charge. Kaines did not know how to feel about potentially becoming an ally with the Silver Legion as more and more of the horrors in that country came to light.

Adams went forward to propose the United Front recommendation instead. This policy recommended that the World Bank essentially provide direct aid and welfare to people in poverty on a global scale without strings attached. The United Front did not trust representative democracies to give the money to the people who needed it the most, so it wanted the World Bank to have offices where everyday people could enter and get the aid they needed. It would be another step towards federalizing the League of Nations.

Kaines had no issue giving welfare to his people and giving strategic humanitarian aid to foreign governments to stabilize their national markets, which was in Kaines and Popular Front's proposals to different extents; however, the Federation representative kept pivoting to the overly ambitious policies of the United Front. The cash-flushed countries of Europa and Unified States would never agree to be required to give significant amounts of humanitarian aid to communities struggling in capitalist and socialist countries across the globe.

As for the Unified States, Alistair Drake Whittle advocated for something called 'microfinance'. The American proposal combined the direct aid model the United Front put forward with capitalism. Whittle argued that with small loans, anyone could become a small business owner. The person would have to pay back these loans with interest, but with a bit of money upfront, poor people in the world could purchase the tools for their trade. Even more dramatically, Whittle encouraged the phasing of most humanitarian aid and replaced it with for-profit microloans. The American proposal would definitely go well with social welfare and feminist advocates as it would allow women also to get loans and have their own businesses.

What Kaines saw as a novel idea that played a lot to his progressive sensibilities, Adams saw as predatory. In essence, the Federation representative argued that the Legionist model for microloans would create a class of debtors because the markets would become saturated with too many people selling the same services and goods. Instead of some failing and having to try something else, all of them would feel the pinch of shrinking profits and default on these loans. Then, they will start having to get loans to pay off their loans, and it will spiral out of control. Adams cautioned against ever using credit to prop up struggling markets because it reinforces unstable extractionism that eventually leads to a credit crisis. (cite)

Things just stagnated between the three groups from there.

As Kaines got up, Whittle got his attention.

"You know, I heard that Ablion has a silver deficit," the American opened. "America can help."

The Albish economist paused. His country had been pressuring Zhangzi to end its Hong Kong policy. Trade with Zhangzi produced a deficit, straining Albion's silver-based monetary system. Still, Kaines hesitated.

"You should speak with the Foreign Office," the economist stated.

"Trust me, we have tried," Whittle added, hands raised as if caught red-handed. "They won't talk to us. I was hoping you would put in a good word in for us. The papers tell you Albish such awful things about us. Instead, why don't you and the Foreign Office organize a visit to America? I will show you that there is nothing to fear about us. If we have not assuaged all your concerns, then you are always free to walk away, but I have a feeling Albion will like what we are doing with Legionism. You really have to see our suburban Whittletons: clean streets, no crime, and beautiful, affordable homes.

"If you see everything is all good in America, we can reforge diplomatic relations. We even have twenty shipping containers of silver bullion we can send to Albion right now, which will be more than enough to reverse your deficit. We hope that signing a treaty with us will lead to a powerful and lucrative alliance between our countries that will last until the end of time."

The Albishman doubted that all his concerns would be erased, but the silver was too much to pass up.

Whittle offered a hand.

"I will let the Prime Minister know," Evan Kaines replied, shaking it.

---

Hashington, D.C., Unified States, July 18th, 1950

A knock came to the door right after the middle of the night, awakening Sir Evan Jude Kaines from his slumber.

He pulled himself out of bed, put on some shoes, and went to the door.

A woman of the American economically enforced underclass stood there in her hotel uniform.

Kaines had known that what he saw in the suburb of Whittleton was too good to be true. The school for children of non-white children was too idyllic compared to the violence U.S. President Yockey promised them in his speeches to his blood-thirsty base. When Kaines went to a recently integrated diner, he received a note from a black waitress on a napkin.

'It is time to wake up from the dream,' the note had said.

The woman before him was the same person as the waitress but in a different uniform. She tapped her ear, causing an illusion to distort for a moment. Then, she muttered something.

She is one of Tanechka's elves! He realized.

"Please follow me, Mr. Kaines," she told him. Her voice weighed down his ears with heavy politeness.

One of the things Albish man had noticed was not so much the friendliness of all Americans to him but the almost excessive politeness the people of color had for him. Indigenous people in the Albish colonies could sometimes be like this, too, due to the stiff penalties for hurting Albish citizens. America took it to another level, and it became scary. Even with his pride in his people, Kaines didn't want people to think he would have them killed if they insulted him.

The unnamed woman guided him down into the hotel service area and then the kitchen, where several individuals in their Sunday clothes were waiting for him.

"Thank you kindly for waking up, Mr. Kaines, sir," the leader addressed him. He was a black man with very short hair. "You can call me Bishop. My friends here needed to talk to you before you, if that is alright."

"It is, Mr. Bishop."

The leader walked up and offered a hand, which Kaines shook.

"Good, good. You have some confidence." Bishop seemed pleased with his firm handshake. "You will need to keep that up for what is to come."

"What do you mean?"

"I am on a CIA list. All of us are. If they find out you met me, you might never get home. We can also never be completely certain when the FBI has an agent within our midst to disrupt our efforts to free ourselves, but we have tried our best to vet everyone present here. (20) You getting home with this knowledge is a Hail Goddess to save us all."

Kaines went pale at the thought that he might already be a dead man walking, having met them.

"Your Secret Service does the same, we are told," Bishop stated, nodding to the Tanechka's Angel. "Make sure not to share what you see here with Eric Arthur Briar. He is an informant for the Albish Secret Service and helps them hunt those with ties with revolutionaries. (19) He is a friend of yours, right?"

"Yes, but…he served in the Ispagnia Civil War for the Brotskists. By Jove, I had no idea. He knows I am not a revolutionary socialist. I am a reformer!"

"We are just trying to protect you and us. Now you have met us. You know our faces. The CIA tortures people for information even if you don't know anything."

What had he just walked himself into?

"However, before I go any further, I need to know if you are ready to see the truth. You can walk away now and stay ignorant of what the Silver Legion has planned. That will be enough to spare your life, perhaps; however, if you know, the Silver Legion will hunt you down the moment they realize it.

"I..uh…oh my." He wiped his brow with a handkerchief provided to him by the elf-like woman. "Oh, thank you."

Kaines could walk away, and the Prime Minister would probably accept the deal for the twenty crates of silver for the alliance. He could find out what was behind this facade of well-trimmed lawns and benign problems. It was like the people hardly knew they were at war. They debated it, but they just did not take it with the gravity it deserved. Some of the white Americans to whom Kaines had spoken suggested that even questioning the war killed troops. Most of them barely knew anything about what Europeans thought about their actions, living in their comfortable suburban worlds. Some didn't even believe that a genocide was happening to the Aztecs and was just a product of the lying press to make President Yockey look bad. These people didn't know what was going on in their own country, and if they didn't, Kaines would have to ask people who did.

In the end, the economist's academic and freethinking curiosity won out, and he nodded. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Do you really want to know?"

Now, he was doubting himself again. Kaines could walk away again.

No, I have to think about not only my future but also the rest of my country.

"Yes, let me know."

"As you say, Mr. Kaines, sir," Bishop stated solemnly.

The eloquent, well-dressed man handed Kaines a book, which looked like any Lord of Faith holy book one would find in a church pew.

"What is this?"

"Everything you need to know. Open it up."

He flipped it open.

The Silver-Diamond Manifesto was the title on the cover. The book had a false cover, just like the country.

"This is the unabridged version of not only the great fool of a Goddess, White Silver's essays but, more importantly, Richard Diamond's plan as he envisioned it several years ago. We believe it has only gotten more elaborate since then. The abridged White Silver Creed available for everyone is a part of a public opinion-shaping campaign by the Unified States called Operation Mockingbird. (16)

"You need to memorize this book to the best you can and then recreate it for the people in Europa. You have more reach than us. Before the Silver Legion took power, the moderates of the world turn deaf years when we insist that we need total, direct, and immediate abolition of poverty. (17) Now, the Silver Legion takes advantage of the moderates' inability to see the genocide by just exacerbating the conditions of poverty while keeping them out of sight. The white moderates are rewarded affluence and privileges for following along the path carefully set out before them by the Silver Legion. It is so seamless they don't see the gears of genocide turning underneath their feet.

"When we try to work with the moderates, they will only go so far as to fight against the signs of injustice that are visible to them in their daily lives. For example, you have seen that the townsfolk in Whittleton gave us the right to sit at the same lunch counter in one town, but that does little good if you can't buy a hamburger. (17) They go as far as to expect to be thanked for the gesture. Everything they don't see in their lives is treated as make-believe, nonsense, or purely academic.

"Regardless, right now, we need as many people in key areas who can get the word out of the Unified States about what is going on before it is too late. You have the world's ear right now, Mr. Kaines. We want you to use that power while you still have it. Work with our movement to not only stand with us but the entire world."

"The entire world?" Kaines muttered in disbelief. It was incredible.

"Okay, now you understand the stakes," Bishop stated. "You need to go back to your room. Memorize that book. Put it on the nightstand when you are done. Once you get back, be prudent. If you need to be rescued, put a potted plant on your balcony facing the street. The Angels will get you out of your country and bring you somewhere safe. We are trusting you with this much because all of our lives depend on the Silver Legion being stopped before whatever their final plan is enacted."

He nodded and went back to his room. The unnamed woman gave him a coffee, and Kaines got to work.

The book contained a collection of essays by Richard Diamond and 'White Silver', starting with the eponymous manifesto. The manifesto section paraphrased White Silver's more moderate ideas but layered in Diamond's far more reactionary contempt for the non-mages and the incompetent based on extremist interpretations of a capitalist version of Social Darwinism.

The unabridged version of White Silver came across as extraordinarily tolerant of minorities in her writings about human resource management, recommending countless ways to make a flourishing workplace. Her ideas regarding business management, strategy, and marketing were so ingenious to a century ahead of their time. In Kaines' opinion, while she had no hope in economic theory, her ideas in the business sphere alone would have been enough to get her a professorship at a university in the world. Had she just stuck to business and not ventured into economics, Kaines' gradualist approach wouldn't be under threat of being reversed extremely violently at a great loss of global self-determination, democracy, and human life, as prescribed by Richard Diamond in the later pages.

If she had any prejudice in these business writings, it was that White Silver had a rather ruthless perspective of the 'incompetent'. Richard Diamond had taken this particular prejudice to a genocidal extreme, recommending explicitly that if a worker could not meet ever-increasing levels of excellence, they deserved to be fired. Mages, in particular, were to be promoted through subsidizing their reproduction and through the eventual sterilization of non-mages over time. In the Silver Legion's America, which was run by monopolies that shared Diamond's view, such unemployment generally meant death by starvation, being forced into hard labor under terrible conditions in privately run prisons since homelessness was a crime, or volunteering as shock troops with low life-expectancy in the Legion's planned wars.

Diamond argued that their deaths would take their inferior genetics, which made them stupid and unproductive, out of the gene pool. The businessman further claimed Kaines' theories would cause humans to 'evolve into a dumber species by supporting the families of these inferior people'. So now, not only was Kaines the first step to totalitarianism, but also the one causing humanity to become stupid apes again.

Notes left in the margins of the book implied the suicide rates in the Unified States were a lot higher than the Silver Legion reported. Mental health in the country, unlike the rest of the world, involves convincing the workers that they must accept what they cannot change in order to not worry about it anymore and having them take expensive, addictive medication. The pills had no actual evidence of any effectiveness from what Albish experts could determine despite what the American pharmaceutical companies claimed. Doctors in the Unified States apparently recommended the medication to their patients if they reported any signs of persistent depression or anxiety. These medications had several other side effects, which concerned Kaines deeply when an investigative report appeared on the subject.

The Unified States mental healthcare system was actually White Silver's idea in the book and was apparently written as a suggestion for the military originally. She recommended that companies and the military pay for some of the therapy to help keep workers productive, which is called cognitive behavioral therapy. She dubiously hypothesized that depression was not the result of the conditions in a person's life but a chemical imbalance in their brain, recommending a medication to fix that. The employee was the problem, not their circumstances under monopolist rule.

While Kaines could imagine that maybe a few people had a brain with chemical adjustment needs, one could not explain the epidemic in the Unified States mentioned in the handwritten notes with anything other than the constant sense of desperation in the country. There were no widespread mental health crises under the planned economies of Western Europa aside from the traumatic stress disorders in their veterans from the Great War, which was partially why, for everyone's mental health, Kaines aggressively pushed for pacifism. People being optimistic about their futures, having peace of mind from a safety net, and having time to rest went a long way to making people much less anxious and depressed.

The only people who benefited from the out-of-control mental health crisis in the Unified States were the monopolists providing the medication and therapy, which did nothing to remedy the actual cause of it because, again, the peace of mind in even partially managed economies and welfare were 'evil totalitarianism' under this convenient framing that White Silver used.

Sir Evan Kaines noticed that Richard Diamond used the term 'neoliberalism' quite differently than White Silver. The named co-writer envisioned it as a single global political economy that would transition the world into Legionism, which he explained later. Most importantly, under this neoliberalism, public power has been diminished to negligible levels through the hollowing out of public institutions of change (the 'evil' bureaucracy) and the breaking up of society down into individuals with no sense of collective power. After that, the public will be wholly suborned to private power.

One could see it as a monopolist version of invisible world domination. It suggests that people globally gradually lose all faith that anything can be done to resist or reform Diamond's proposed neoliberalism. If people do resist, they will be ignored (if non-threatening) or suppressed and arrested. People have to run out of energy and believe that nothing they do can do anything. At the international level, the global monopolists will secure gradual but eventual control of the world through funding coups, directing military interventions, and co-opting national and international institutions.

The global system of unmitigated extractionism will have three core groupings of territories in the monopolist's empire. At the bottom of the world hierarchy would be the resource-rich, undeveloped countries, managed by propped-up dictators and the occasional coup to replace uncooperative leaders. Industrialized territories with large populations were in the middle and would provide cheap skilled labor managed by subordinated 'democracies' and co-opted so-called 'socialist' states. At the top would be the financiers who provided funding for military policing of the globe and tax havens available for the ultra-wealthy and their corporations.

While Diamond suggested using propaganda (called 'marketing') to poison the idea of violent resistance to capitalist or co-opted 'socialist' governments, the significant control over opinion would be the monopolization of the global press and the capture of major national political parties. Owning the newspapers and suborning the political class will not only pump out more propaganda but also hide the horrors of that system from the public by keeping the range of available opinions available to consume within an acceptable range. Diamond emphasized the paramount importance of discrediting trust in authority (like Kaines) and repeating conflicting untruths that had more power, the more obviously false they were. The public's 'excess energies' would be directed to manufactured conflicts meant to distract them from the constant ceding of more and more power to the monopolists.

The entrepreneur behind it all stated terrifyingly:
"We'll know our disinformation program is complete when everything those who are Legion believe is false. (18) They must believe that which gives them power is evil and that which deprives them of it is good. The poors must believe that everyone speaking Albish is more American than having Democracy. That what is 'wrong' is necessary even when it isn't. That what is least important is the most important. They must forget what they were upset about yesterday, have too many different things to be upset about, or simply disengage and drown themselves in entertainment. We must create ways for them to consume constantly. When the poors can no longer think of anything else other than working to survive until they die and doing so with a smile 'because it is the right thing to do', that is when we know we have won."

All of this was depicted as a good outcome by the entrepreneur that would restore the world to its supposed 'proper order of competition and a hierarchy of mankind', and Kaines was ignoring the more genocidal language in other sections at this point.

This hierarchy would end in the de facto slavery of most of the human population. First, wages would stagnate as collective bargaining powers were eliminated, and the monopolists slowly but steadily eeked out better and better deals from their workers on how much of the value of their labor went into the monopolists' pockets instead of a worker. Imagine producing $100 worth of goods or services and slowly going from retaining $60 of that value in wages to only retaining $20.

The second phase of enslavement would be the issuing of cheap credit. In order to fill the gap created by stagnating wages, the 'poors' would be given credit that would allow them to maintain 'comfortable' levels of consumption without having to tighten their belts. Then, the monopolists would just increase prices once the 'poors' all got used to using credit. Credit issuers would start by targeting people specifically whose ability to pay back was dubious because the penalties for non-payment, particularly the ridiculous interest rates, would result in rapidly accelerating debt. Likewise, the middle class of educated experts would eventually be saddled with student debt that most would not be able to dig themselves out of. People in the poorest countries would be sucked into this debt cycle through the use of for-profit microloans instead of traditional humanitarian aid. The goal would be to make as many people as possible into debt slaves forced to work for the monopolists to pay back their debts.

The third phase would be the war-looting phase. Since a credit crisis would inevitably happen with so many people on the verge of default, the final means of propping up the neoliberal system would be war. By simply killing other people for their territory, wars would become a winner-take-all means to stay afloat to fill that gap exacerbated by not only low wages but having to pay interest on their consumption. A world made out of desperate poors would become a world full of 'faith-inducing conflict just as the Lord of Faith intended', according to Richard Diamond.

The way to keep the 'poors' from attacking the monopolists for stuff would be by creating a system where they fought each other in proxy warzones. Without any sense of collective existence, the monopolists can create artificial ones in a culture of fighting for the various monopolists' teams. The 'poors' would hand their war spoils to their monopolist overlords and be granted the right to live a bit longer before the next war games.

Despite the fact that none of this explicitly required a country annexing more territory, Diamond wrote in a later essay in the book that he believed 'neoliberalism' was too unstable due to the impossibility of managing global public opinion with too many cultures. He claimed that all non-Angel-American cultures would have to be eradicated, and valuable people (people who were not 'undesirable' minorities) would have to be assimilated in order to make them easier to manage. While a single global culture would make collectivism easier, Diamond demonstrated through countless examples how to break up the 'poors' into a tangled mess of disorganization even when they ostensibly share the same culture. He determined that conquering the world would be the fastest way to achieve managed individualism under monoculturalism and end a culture of empathy and solidarity-inducing pluralism forever.

People can even know they are being shepherded into enslavement as long as these people who are aware lack a sense of collective identity. Wasting energy 'understanding' and 'abstracting' their suffering wouldn't change the fact they were enslaved. Diamond preferred that student debt slaves develop a culture of only 'thinking about things'. Intellectuals have the egotistical desire to be correct, and competition is the bedrock of individualistic culture. They would debate and argue, falling into different 'schools of thought' all the while never lifting a finger to help the 'poors' they wrote endlessly about in the abstract.

For the less educated 'poors', it was vital that they hate each other more than any group. Constantly supplying them with an 'Other' who would be blamed for the stagnate wages and loss of economic opportunity. While competition between different groups of 'poors' would help suppress wages, instead of being mad at the monopolists, they would see those they competed against as the real threat to their interests. This passionate competition among the 'poors' would be the basis for the teams-based proxy wars of the future.

In Diamond's plan, the Unified States would transition the whole world from Kainesianism to pacifying neoliberalism and finally to this global enslaved monoculture of Legionism. The Unified States would invade one country at a time as the rest of the world became subordinated to it through the pacification of neoliberalism. Eventually, he suspected the world would catch on to the seriousness of the monopolists' ambitions. Still, he believed that with prudent leadership, any circumstance could be navigated to lead to a global one-country Legionism system eventually. Alliances, non-aggression pacts, and divisive rhetoric would pacify and divide any potential opposition to their conquest until it was too late.

Getting to this point, Sir Evan Jude Kaines jumped when a knock came at the door. It was already morning, and he had only read half of the dense book. That had been more than enough, coupled with White Silver's prognosticating, to more than convince him that Kaines had to stop Prime Minister Catcherlain from signing the treaty.

If I can, and it isn't too late.

He opened the door to see one of his Silver Legionist handlers.

"Sir, you don't look alright," the uniformed mage inquired. "Were the beds not to your liking?"

"Yes, I uh—" Kaines realized before he finished his sentence the potential consequences of what he was saying. "I mean, the beds were the best I ever had. You must extend my sincerest thanks to the hotel staff. I just was up all night…reading the bible. Very faithful. You know how the Lord of Faith can speak to you at any time."

"The Lord of Faith is gone, sir."

"Uh…I meant the Goddess."

"She should be here by the year's end at the latest," the Legionist mage claimed bizarrely.

Kaines blinked, confused.

"If you want to come back and meet White Silver," the enforcer for American administration clarified. "As President Yockey declared upon the most holy White House balcony to his followers, not one year shall pass before the coming of the Goddess. We were all worried about why she had not arrived yet despite his earlier readings of the Silver prophecy, but sometimes the Goddess moves in unusual ways."

"Uh, yes, well, that would be something."

He had spoken to White Silver. Was she really a goddess, the Goddess? That might explain how she seemed to know the critical factors going on in geopolitics.

"Are you ready for breakfast? President Yockey would love you all to have one last all-American meal before you leave."

Kaines had to face the Silver Legion leadership one last time with a smile before getting the hell out of this country.

1. Office of the Historian. "Bretton Woods-GATT, 1941–1947." <https://history.state.gov/milestones/1937-1945/bretton-woods>
2. Ruggie, John Gerard. "International regimes, transactions, and change: embedded liberalism in the postwar economic order." <https://scholar.harvard.edu/files/john-ruggie/files/international_regimes_transactions.pdf>
3. Keynes, John Maynard. Essays in Biography. "Trotsky On England (Where is Britain Going?). Harcourt, Brace, 1933.
4. Keynes, John Maynard. The Nation & Athenaeum, 1925, Part I. "Am I a Liberal?" 1925. <https://www.hetwebsite.net/het/texts/keynes/keynes1925liberal.htm>
5. Kley, Roland, 'Cultural Evolution', Hayek's Social and Political Thought (Oxford, 1994; online edn, Oxford Academic, 3 Oct. 2011), <https://doi.org/10.1093/acprofso/9780198279167.003.0008>
6. I paraphrased from the Yes, Minister episode "Power to the People" (Season 2, Episode 5), which aired on the 7th of January, 1988. I took liberal inspiration from when Agnes Moorhouse and Sir Evan Appleby agreed to scuttle democratic reforms because both are defenders of a kind of technocracy.
7. History.com. "This Day in History: John Maynard Keynes Predicts Economic Chaos from the Treaty of Versailles." <https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/keynes-predicts-economic-chaos>
8. Albert Glotzer, "Martin Abern (1898-1949)," in Bernard K. Johnpoll and Harvey Klehr (eds.), Biographical Dictionary of the American Left. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1986; pp. 1-2.
9. Based somewhat on RSFSR Law No. 1107-I "On the rehabilitation of repressed peoples" in 26 April 1991. Yes, we are going half a century later, but this is how I imagine a Trotskyist Russy Federation approach as well. The goal isn't to idealize Trotskyists since they have their flaws, too.
10. Trotsky, Leon. If America Should Go Communist. 1934
11. See Anti-Miscegenation Laws, State v. Pass, and Pace v. Alabama
12. Mallik S. Colonial Biopolitics and the Great Bengal Famine of 1943. GeoJournal. 2023;88(3):3205-3221. doi: 10.1007/s10708-022-10803-4. Epub 2022 Dec 6. PMID: 36531534; PMCID: PMC9735018.
13. Oppenheim, Maya. "Winston Churchill has as much blood on his hands as the worst genocidal dictators, claims Indian Politician." published in the Independent. 8 September, 2017. <https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/world-history/winston-churchill-genocide-dictator-shashi-tharoor-melbourne-writers-festival-a7936141.html>
14. Patnaik, Utsa. Profit Inflation, Keynes and the Holocaust in Bengal, 1943-1944. Economic & Political Weekly. Vol. 53, Issue No. 42, 20 Oct, 2018. <https://www.epw.in/journal/2018/42/special-articles/profit-inflation-keynes-and-holocaust.html>
15. Keynes, John Maynard. Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren. 1930. <https://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/economics/keynes/1930/our-grandchildren.htm>
16. See Operation Mockingbird, which is an alleged large-scale program of the CIA in real life. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Mockingbird
17. Goodrich, Mathew Miles. The Forgotten Socialist History of Martin Luther King Jr. 15 January, 2018. Inthesetimes.com <https://inthesetimes.com/article/martin-luther-king-jr-day-socialism-capitalism>
18. Carberry, Joel F. Mirage of Dissent: The Mechanics of Controlled Opposition. 2023. <https://ia800503.us.archive.org/5/items/mirage-of-dissent-the-mechanics-of-controlled-opposition/Mirage%20of%20Dissent_The%20Mechanics%20of%20Controlled%20Opposition.pdf>
19. See Orwell's List: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list
20. See COINTELPRO: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/COINTELPRO

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Berun, Germania, 18th of June 1950

The secret agent entered the room.

"What is this about?" Investigator Mary Sue, sitting across a meeting table, asked innocently. The file on Bloody Valkeryie mentioned that she had a hopelessly naive personality, which would finally make her useful to the Commonwealth. There were a lot of people who wanted to kill her in the Secret Service. This Albish spy was no exception.

"We believe we have a mutual interest in your subject of investigation," the spy opened as they sat down. "You can call me Fond, Agent Fond."

"Um, Mr. Fond, which investigation do you mean?" Officer Sue inquired.

The spy sighed and drank from their coffee. "The Devil of the Rhine case."

"Oh, OH! What can you tell me?"

"It depends if you can cooperate."

"What do you mean, Mr. Fond?"

The spy frowned. "Just Fond or Agent Fond, please."

"Yes, sir, but I must ask what you mean by cooperate."

"We need you to handle this case in a particular way for us," Taylor Fond pressed. "You have to agree to listen to our orders. If you do that, your Devil gets captured. Can you follow a few simple orders?"

"It depends on the orders."

"Nothing that will go against your moral compass. Just a few arrests of co-conspirators. Your Devil has several, and all of them are fully within your authority to arrest once we give you some emergency privileges."

The Albish government had had it with the Devil of the Rhine after foiling Operation Ajax and effectively condemning the illegal tampering with another country's national sovereignty. The Unified States had worked out a deal with the Allied Kingdom to have this Devil delivered to them. Taylor Fond didn't know all the details, but a lot of silver was involved. Something was going on that made the Devil of the Rhine valuable to the Americans. They just needed to get rid of her rings of protection out of Germania. The Albish had already pressured the Germanians to refuse Calamity Amb's asylum request.

Mary Sue nodded and agreed to some conditions.

Fond passed forward the dossier on the Devil of the Rhine. It contained a combination of suspected and fabricated crimes. Criminal conspiracy, obstruction of justice, murder, tax evasion, bribery, and basically anything they could pin on the woman. The goal was to get Tanya von Degurechaff into a situation where the Allied Kingdom could transfer custody of her to the Unified States.

This dossier would also get rid of Elena 'Elya' Müller and the elderly Hans von Zettour. They were the two main pillars of the conspiracy to protect the hero of Germania.

The Bloody Valkeryie flipped through the documents as her halo burst into flames of vengeance, and Taylor Fond redoubled her doubts about getting the supposed Goddess of Punishment involved. The angelic woman had a terrible reputation but was the only one they could think of who could potentially threaten Tanya von Degurechaff. While Tanya was indeed skilled, giving the cultists in America one mage with middling magic power for a juggernaut like Mary Canary was the easiest trade ever. Maybe the Albish could convince them to take Mary Sue, too.

---

Training Field for Mages of Interpol in Baghdad, Persian Empire, 19th of July, 1950

Fang Shiyu hit the mat hard.

"Dead," Zhu Chongba stated with a fist to Fang's neck before lifting the young martial artist up.

"This brings back memories," the MI15 officer commented with a bright smile.

"When we did this last, you were the one throwing me down to the mat."

"Well, you weren't a mandate back then, and you were skin and bones. However, that isn't what I meant."

"Oh?"

Fang glanced over at his shoulder at Officer Tanya von Weiss.

"You like her?" Zhu inquired.

It was odd speaking to his childhood friend again after so long. Despite being an Emperor, it was comforting that his friend remained the same jocular fellow he had always been. Zhu definitely became more ruthless while leading the Red Turban rebellion, but necessity and tragedy had long left their marks on the man.

"No, not like that. You know that I take my vows seriously, unlike you, apparently. While I don't think you would be the only one who would set aside your vows to marry Ma, I didn't think that you would—"

Fang didn't know how to say it.

"It is okay," Zhu, the Mandate of Fortune, replied. "I understand your meaning. Life is full of surprises. The moment you get complacent in your expectations is when the future becomes deadly."

"Officer Weiss really humiliated me on my first training session," the martial artist admitted. "Much like this. Really hit at my ego as a man."

"Well, I will just have to make a man out of you then so you can stand proudly."

Fang chuckled. "I think I am plenty secure in who I am. Officer Weiss comes from the school of thought, and to become stronger, one must be broken at the right points in order to fix defects and make you stronger."

"Sounds brutal."

"It can be. She is actually far lighter in her training now than she was during the Great War. What she does worked until—"

"You stopped advancing. Why do you come back to Zhangzi? MI12 needs replacements, and I think no one is better able to serve our country right now than you. Captain Ouyang and Officer Jing-wei would be happy to have you, too."

"I don't know."

"We can help you learn beam attacks. I can tell you are getting to that point. It will let you defeat computation orb users and equalize the playing field."

That would be awesome, honestly. Only the best of the best got to learn from the great sages who had several lifetimes' worth of martial arts knowledge and could teach advanced mana manipulation techniques.

"I will think about it."

"Don't think too long, Shiyu. My wife and I decided to return to Zhangzi sooner now that we have secured a place for us in the revolutionary government. Our people will need the prosperity of the Mandate in this time of crisis, so I don't have the freedom to run off and play around like we did as kids."

"Yeah."

Fang was only twenty-six, but he felt these six months had really pressured him to shake off his childishness. Pressured, not succeeded.

If the man made a distinction between being a child and being an adult, it was the feeling of responsibility for others outside of oneself. As one became an adult, one took on more responsibilities of caring for one's family and one's community. In that regard, as Fang gained more trust from his team, he matured through the heightened expectations placed upon him.

Before training that day, it had been an exhausting investigation through several medical labs in search of superhuman experiments. While they didn't find any evidence of anything despite Jane Forger insisting they were doing something here. Agent Sonnetto got awfully nervous when she noticed some of the machines. Fang spotted a few researchers whispering about Sonnetto to each other—something about needing to tell a Cassander about the homunculus.

Fang didn't know what to make of it. He suspected that Sonnetto might know some of these people, but why wasn't she talking to them and instead hiding in the patrol car? Something wasn't right. She just didn't want to explain it to him. Fang would just have to be patient.

---

Refugee Camp outside Baghdad, Persian Empire, 19th of July, 1950

Sonnetto sighed as she sat next to Tanya late that evening. It had been another busy day. The Albish had the Mages of Interpol running around looking for mages of mass destruction, which Tanya was pretty sure weren't there for some reason.

The homunculus's prior self had been born in Bactria near the border of Bharat, but she had lived most of her life in Baghdad. She had seen her country fight against imperialism over and over again. Over the years, she has met many different people. She had met the kindest people of every stripe and ideology. As for the communists, the big difference between the ones that bothered her and the ones who were pleasant was how much they had internalized and learned from oppressors.

The Old Federation was a reflection of the pogroms and brutality of the Tsar's regime. The Francois Republic had learned extreme pragmatic oppression from the Germania occupation. The warlords, the Albish, and the Akinese had seeded their horrors within the minds of the Zhangzi. Violent oppressors make violent revolutionaries who can become violent oppressors.

If someone looked at the sheer quantity of communists in the world and just assumed they were all ideology and nothing else, they were missing out on the amount of hurt these people were in. What made a person a socialist was solidarity with the oppressed. What made a person a revolutionary socialist was hatred for the oppressor, in the homunculus' opinion. The question was whether the resulting administration would let it be defined by solidarity in hatred of the oppressor or solidarity in love for humanity.

To put it another way, revolutionaries sometimes used their suffering and tears as a blank check to rain bloody terror upon the world. Suffering made for terrible tea leaves to gain advice on the next action, as that was vengeance. If Mary Sue was any indication, it blinded oneself and provided no resolution. Vengeance created cycles of violence. Instead, suffering should be an indication of something wrong. The ethos of historical wisdom, Sonnetto thought, would tell one how one cures their suffering best without falling for all the pitfalls that beset the Jacobins in France.

Sonnetto hoped Persia would not be pulled into the revanchist politics of constantly fighting the oppression of the Americans and Albish. The generation trauma from the Rumelian invasion had already left its mark. Even though Sonnetto was not Roxanne and Germania was her home, Persia was a place like any other that didn't deserve Operation Boot or Operation Ajax. As Tanya would say, countries should learn to keep their hands to themselves. Yet, the world was rife with predation that was going to create more monsters like the Jacobins.

Sonnetto fidgeted, and Tanya must have felt the white-haired officer's feeling of lack of control over her future because the mandate with the black-and-silver hair pulled Sonnetto into a side hug.

"We can go back to the hotel if Calamity and the other Americans singing is getting to you."

"No, I am good here."

MI15 decided to accompany Calamity Amb to a refugee camp for Americans, whom the Silver Legion had deemed 'unfit for life' in their home country, outside Baghdad. They were doing a non-denomination religious service. Even Max Ono and her father were there. Max was secular like her mother, and Ono Tenya followed the traditional religious philosophy of her homeland. A lot of people from religious and non-religious stripes were together in solidarity, seeking the spirituality of the community, if not the divine.

As Sonnetto pulled Tanya into her a bit, the mandate translated what they were singing about. With just a partial fusion like this, their minds wouldn't meld together, but they could benefit from each other's knowledge of languages. Calamity's group sang a non-denomination version of Old Time Religion, which Tanya found funny rather than uncomfortable for some reason.

(Chorus)
Give me that old time religion
Give me that old time religion
Give me that old time religion
It's good enough for me

(Verse 1)
We will pray with Aphrodite
We will pray with Aphrodite
She wears that see-through nightie
And it's good enough for me

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2)
We will pray with Zarathustra
We'll pray just like we use ta
I'm a Zarathustra booster
And it's good enough for me

(Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 3)
We will pray with those old druids
They drink fermented fluids
Waltzing naked through the woo-ids
And it's good enough for me

Tanya was always weird about religion. Sometimes, the woman just hated it and would have C-PTSD conditions around reminders of it. Other times, she would just act like she was standing outside the world, looking at it like it was all misguided nonsense. If they were fully fused, Sonnetto might be able to figure out why Tanya could get into this peculiar, irreverent mindset.

What was bothering Sonnetto had nothing to do with religion. Well, not really.

"Why don't you join us?" Calamity called out, pointing out to a place by the campfire. The Tejan had her guitar. "We are about to talk about our thoughts. Don't worry. We accept all folks here."

Sonnetto got up, and Tanya decided to join her surprisingly. The homunculus wanted to get her mind off her troubles.

"So, why don't we share our traditions with each other," the Tejan suggested. "I will start. I am Calamity Amb, and I come from the Heartist tradition of Old Faithers. We value the spiritual over the worldly. Our faith was during a time of great oppression, and we prayed to be delivered from that oppression. We differ from the Legalists because we believe that being a good person depends on acting in goodness rather than following textual prescriptions. There is no checklist of beliefs and actions one needs to take. Goodness is the only thing that matters."

"What do you mean?" Max Ono inquired. The child had never met a Heartist before. It was good she was feeling better. The singing and playing with the kids in the refugee camp had helped bring a sense of normalcy back to the child who had recently lost her mother.

"Well, probably the best example of the Allegory of the Stranger. One day, a woman begged for help because she had broken a leg while traveling to the city where they were to have a census. The oppressor needed to count the people in their holdings. People passed her by. Several did not dare to look at her as they were all certain they were good, for they had done what was specifically asked of them, and all made excuses for why they need not help her."

"Did no one help her?" Max wondered, worried.

"One did—a stranger from a far-off land. The locals hated his people terribly, including the woman's family, yet it was this stranger who stopped and helped her to the city and to find shelter in the overpacked city.

"The lesson of the allegory in my mind is two-fold. It tells us that faith is a challenge to help those unlike ourselves, but also that those who are kind and loving may be the people least like us. The Stranger can be someone of any creed or lack thereof. They can come from any land, be a man or a woman, or really any kind of person. Goodness was not in what he was but in the spirit in which he acted. As Heartists, we seek to see the goodness in all people without letting our prejudices blind us and to do good in all that we do. We have our histories, but they do not bind us like the Legalists or the Swordists.

"Instead, we understand, in the spirit of love, we must seek those unlike ourselves, like the Stranger, to learn from them, for goodness is not the sole possession of one person or one history but in all. Often, what we need to understand most about goodness is in the least likely of places."

Sonnetto appreciated the way of thinking. It reflected much of what she had experienced when traveling around the world with MI15. There were so many people with their lessons to share that each made her feel greater having heard them. There was a certain myopia to being singularly focused on one's own way of doing things at the expense of not seeing the world around oneself.

"I was raised in Legalism," Sonnetto admitted. It was nice having Tanya there. "We believed that submission to the gods, particularly the Lord of Faith, was the highest and greatest thing a person could do. Charity is a large part of our faith, too. Our holidays and frequent observances do not feel like bindings but constant reminders of the people we should be. That is why charity plays such a large role in our culture. We see submission to the Lord of Faith as humbling and reminding all of us that we are not so big. It makes us see each other as all in the same position under the Lord of Faith and the other gods. We see lapses in observances as risking us forgetting our values and our place in the world, and we take sincerity in our oaths and promises very seriously as they are the basis of an honest and trustworthy society."

"But you don't practice anymore?" Calamity questioned.

Sonnetto stirred the fire with a stick before putting hers in the fire. "I am not the same person anymore. I am making up my mind about what I think with this life I have."

"Not the same person?" Max wondered, confused.

"The woman I was before is dead and will never come back. I get to be whoever I want to be."

Tanya did not translate it quite the same way as Sonnetto said it, going for something more considerate given the child's situation.

"Instead, I consider myself a follower of Seekerism," the white-haired officer explained.

"What is that?" the child asked wide-eyed.

"It is an old mystic philosophy from my land. It states that we should all be seekers, and whom we are seeking is seeking us. If I am seeking love, for example—" Sonnetto glanced at the ever-clueless Tanya. "She is also searching for me. You can never force love or 'seeking' on another. If you are really looking for love, a person who doesn't love you back is not whom you are actually searching for. A seeker also must go out in the world in humility. She must never ask for that which is not freely given."

That got Tanya's attention. The Mandate of the Unknown Self still wanted to speak to Visha in order to move on properly from her unrequited feelings, but Sonnetto didn't want to wait for that conversation. She needed to tell Tanya how she felt, but Tanya had given up on seeking. The woman would not open her eyes to see the one who loved her right there.

"Do you think I will find the person I am seeking, too?" Max followed up.

"For whom are you seeking?"

"My friend, Ralph. We were best friends in the States, but we were separated when we fled."

That hit Sonnetto in the gut.

"If it is meant to be, then it is meant to be, we would say," Sonnetto replied, checking if the father was okay with her answering. "Keep seeking, and you will find. You may not find what you thought you were looking for. Be ready for what the journey has for you."

Max liked that answer, but Tanya sunk deeper into Sonnetto, making the homunculus feel like a sponge. Disentangling the feelings with some effort, the alchemist could tell Tanya was afraid and lonely. Sonnetto kissed Tanya on the head and sent as much love through their connection as possible, but it seemed to dissipate inside the disorganized storm that made up the emotional center of the woman. Without completely fusing, Tanya wouldn't understand the love Sonnetto was trying to convey. It would always just not make sense to the woman.

Digging a bit deeper through their connection, Sonnetto discovered Tanya didn't believe she was lovable — that she was too flawed, self-sabotaging, and dysfunctional. The woman from Bactria held the veteran closely.

I love you.

…we all love you, too.

Tanya…can you just accept my words?

I don't understand.

This was wilful at this point. Tanya must know what Sonnetto meant.

Trudging through that stormy sea inside the Mandate, Sonnetto found a problematic belief — that Tanya will only know she has love when she feels the love from another. If she weren't afraid of Tanya knowing everything about herself, Sonnetto would make Tanya realize the homunculus loved her.

"What is a Swordist?" Tanya asked, surprisingly.

"Should I?" Calamity inquired, looking at Masquerade.

"Why don't you start, and I will finish," the thespian replied.

"Okay," the Tejan sighed. "So long ago, there was a schism in the Old Faith when we were first free from oppression. The Swordists inverted the belief about freeing our people from oppression to justify themselves becoming the new oppressors. Instead of the Lord delivering them to freedom, they were to deliver a world unified in one faith to the Lord with 'all twelve mountain mandates' of the gods conquered. They picked up the sword of the Emperor and went to 'save souls', hence the name 'Swordist'. I am very biased, and it is hard for me not to be. Where we Heartists saw war as a necessary evil to free ourselves and the Stranger, the Swordists would use it to convert people at sword point. They did not tolerate us Heartists very much and would slay us regularly. To give you an idea, Richard Diamond is a Swordist."

Calamity took a deep breath and gestured to their masked teammate with the green eyes to continue.

"So I am a Universalist," he opened. "Swordism went through a reformation after the advent of the printing press. While we still desire to see the world as one faith, most of us recognize the humanitarian need to respect everyone's freedom of conscience in order to preserve peace. Instead of war being a literal battle, it is a spiritual battle within ourselves, as you saw with Khuyana in Argentum. We fight the worst in ourselves in order to make ourselves closer to an impossible ideal.

"As for delivering the world, we believe that the world will one day be freed by the Goddess of Victory, Nike…who in Albion is also called—"

Masquerade stopped talking and slowly turned to Tanya.

"What?" she asked as she made a s'more with Max. The Germanian really liked playing with kids and talking to them.

"Well, the Goddess of Freedom, the one who will deliver us to a world of peace and free from oppression."

"Cool," Tanya stated before it clicked. "Yeah, no. Universalists raised me in this life. I am not being anyone's goddess of victory or whatever. I am good just being a normal lesbian living the 8-5 lifestyle."

"First, you don't just work 8-5," Sonnetto corrected. "Second, I don't think you could be normal anything, no offense. Third, I don't think the world is going to let you be until we get past this moment in history."

Fuck Being X, the Mandate thought, and the crimson-eyed partially fused with her overheard. It was good that Max and Tenya were used to the couple's unusual chemistry and knew most of this about them after being under watch by MI15 for a while.

"What do you believe, Tanya?" Calamity inquired.

"Skip me until later. I need time to process what Masquerade just said.

Max went next, explaining how her mom believed in a world with no heaven above and no hell below but a world united in love for another. Then, the little girl sang her mom's favorite song, Imagine.

"For the Greater Wheel School," Fang began. "We don't have specific gods we worship. Some dedicate themselves to specific great cultivators, who are believed to have achieved something akin to godhood. We believe we have to purify our minds, bodies, and souls, and if we are mages, cultivate until we have reached a point where we can reincarnate. Those who successfully reincarnate can become even stronger in the next life, so it is essential for us to train as hard as we can to reach that point.

"In order to purify and focus ourselves, we take on various vows. For me, I have the vow of poverty and chastity. Like many of the Universalist monks, we recognize how the desire for wealth can weigh down the soul like an anchor and entice one to evil when taken too far. After work, I sleep at the monastery in Berun, but when I am abroad, I don't consider it a violation of my vows to sleep in places provided to me by my work and such."

"What do you do with your paycheck?" Tanya inquired.

"I donate it."

"How do you get by?"

"The monastery provides, and I have a petty cash account that I keep so that I can always purchase minor things."

There was no reason to ask about healthcare. The Unified States had set up a public healthcare system in Germania after the war, and it stuck. Abroad, Interpol took care of Fang Shiyu's right to healthcare.

"Which brings me to something I need to tell all of you," the martial artist stated. "I discussed this with Armstrong and Masquerade, but I should tell you all. Zhangzi is in danger. The Akinese and the Americans look posed to invade again. The royal couple and Captain Ouyang have asked me to come back home to defend my homeland. I also want to improve my martial arts because I feel like I have plateaued lately. I need to find more counters to modern rifles and computation orbs. Those skills exist, but only the Zhangzi masters can teach them to me."

After going somewhere private, they shed a lot of tears and well-wishes. Then, Calamity also interjected.

"Okay, I have something to confess," the Tejan stated. "I got notice that I am to report to the U.S. Embassy to be deported back to the States."

"What?!" Tanya barked, rage in her voice and her mana leaking out like a turbulent current. Leaves swirled around the fire before she pulled it in. "Why?"

"They didn't say."

"But you are a mage! Any country would accept your visa."

Masquerade raised his hand. "I suspect the Unified States insisted that they get Calamity Amb back."

"Richard Diamond," Tanya muttered, rage flowing out of her again. "That bastard won't leave me alone. What is he going to do? Make me trade myself to save Calamity?"

It was a big ask. Tanya would do anything for her family, and Calamity was family now.

Masquerade muttered something under his breath.

"You know something else," Tanya accused.

"I don't—"

"What did Jane Forger tell you?"

The thespian went still. Tanya's hunch was correct.

The man sighed and signaled everyone closer. "The Angels discovered that a friend of mine, a former Brotskist named Eric Arthur Briar, you might know him for writing Animal Farm and 1984. Anyways, he was an informant for the Albish Secret Service. He knew about my affair with Jane, and the Secret Service figured out that Jane leaked their illegal coup as part of Operation Ajax. Tomorrow will be the last day we will see each other. After the Remember Day ceremony, I will disappear like I never existed."

"Where are you going?" Tanya pressed, worried about her former XO.

"I can't tell you, but I promise I will find you all as soon as I can. If any one of you is in danger, know that Jane and I will do what we can to save you. You are my family, and Jane respects you all even if she disagrees with us."

Turning to Sonnetto, the small Germanian leaned into her housemate.

I am going to be alone again, aren't I?

Tanya's deepest worry bubbled up to the surface of her mind.

I will never leave you, Sonnetto thought at her crush. I love you.

Tanya blinked away some tears.

Do you understand?

Tanya wanted to, but her heart was filled with unshakable skepticism — not in Sonnetto, but in herself.

You are worthy of love, Sonnetto told her crush. I think you are the one I am seeking. Do you seek me?

The woman with waves for hair and spirit filled with a longing for love and freedom washed over Sonnetto. They became one.

I don't understand, but if this is seeking you, then I am seeking you.

All that was Tanya's became Sonnetto's, and all that was Sonnetto's became Tanya's.

---

Streets of Baghdad, Persian Empire - 20th of July, 1950

We walked together as one person — 'Sonata' we called this new sense of I — through the streets of Baghdad. People would only see Sonnetto. The only noticeable differences were that we had purple eyes and a magical moving wave tattoo. We shared a single mind and body.

Our perspectives overlapped and became greater in their combination. Suppose reality was an infinitely faceted gem, and each person only saw it from one of its sides. How astoundingly shocking it is to see an entirely different perspective. Everything was painfully familiar yet astoundingly new at the same. Sonnetto felt attraction for the first time and all sorts of instincts that had died in the process of being reborn as a homunculus. Tanya felt empathy and emotional self-awareness. There was no shame in their respective separate inabilities. They just were that way, but that did not mean there wasn't a sense of joy in being able to experience new things.

There was an invisible love-making in our every shared gesture. We would get street food, talk with complete strangers, and enjoy the sun upon our skin as one person. No one was the wiser aside from our teammates, who could not fathom what this experience must be like. Could anyone understand what it meant to be fully understood by another person? For there to be no secrets? How liberating and free it was to trust someone with your everything? This mutual trust saved them both.

Our, or rather, my mind drifted toward the future as I observed the intellectuals, thinkers, and personalities going to cafes in Baghdad to discuss philosophy, culture, and science.

And they could all be brought into a war they did not ask for.

Starting with myself (as Sonata), what kind of world do we want to live in? Clearly, I wanted peace. War was utterly anathema to me, whose every fiber despised it. I understood Calamity's draw to the good fight against fascists, but both had seen enough war to wish to step away from it. We needed to be free from war without being free of reality. I also wanted to be able to flourish surrounded by family, friends, and coworkers who could also live pleasant lives. My happiness would also be the flourishing of those we cared about.

What does it take for that to happen?

The duality of imperialism and nationalism came to mind first—imperialism as a perversion of capitalism under the anarchy between nation-states. With no law to keep nations' hands to themselves, they could pounce at their prey and feed upon their people. The predation of empires had drowned the world in blood for eons and only gotten more dangerous in this time of Total War.

The League of Nations came to mind as a potential solution to the problem of imperialism, but norm setting was important. People didn't want to be made English, American, Persian, or any number of cultural identities. A world-state could just be as imperialistic as the empires it was meant to curtail if it imposed a single cultural template on all peoples.

My Tanya-half wanted to preserve individual liberties and saw military force for the sole economic benefit of any individual or group as a kind of international authoritarianism that disrupted competitive markets that should be free of unnecessary coercion from state or quasi-state actors (like monopolies and massive corporations). She could imagine coercion being used to stop a worse coercive force justice like using police violence to stop criminal violence.

My Sonnetto-half did not concern herself with economics. She focused more on the immaterial questions. What made for a good culture? How do we understand the pursuit of knowledge? How do we understand our relationships with others? Core to her philosophy was the idea of differences. Imperialism was made possible by seeing people as essentially different from yourself. You could only invade different nations. You can only be invaded by foreigners. She did not want differences to cease to exist but rather for a new paradigm to exist where one approached differences with humility and a desire to understand but without the presumption that one will share. Differences had to stop being an excuse for violence.

The question on my mind became: Why did nationalities exist? As I (Sonata) saw it, nationalities were a form of defensive othering — that is to say, they rose up in defense of a people. Nationalism, in its most basic form, was the people becoming citizens of a nation. They pledged their loyalty to the state, and in exchange, the nation protected its citizens and acted on their behalf, in theory. A nation drew more than a line on a map but between the citizen and the non-citizen.

The nation defended itself from the foreign much like an immune system defended the body. Some externalities were accepted, such as air, nutrients, water, and harmless particulates in the body. Likewise, some non-citizens went through the nation-state without being attacked by the nation. Tourists had a path to move through the nation safely, as did the mages of Interpol.

As queer women, we knew how being set apart from everyone often caused the equivalent of an auto-immune response. The nation did not see us as Germanian but as Others in need of defending themselves from us. That made everyday movements through our land of residence perilous. A trip to a gay bar might end with thugs or police attacking us and people like us.

Berun acted like a massive safe space for the queer and a massive cosmopolitan center. On the one hand, Berun had this defensive othering for queer people against straight people and police. Some even treated the two groups as different species. This defensive othering hurt bisexual people in Berun because homosexuals didn't see them as part of their tribe or sorts, and straight culture was likewise intolerant of them. We did not like how people in Berun had become hypersensitive to threats to the point of excluding bisexual people from having a space in solidarity with us, even if we understood the traumas of queerphobic violence created these identities and exclusionary spaces in ways somewhat resembling how nations could be created as exclusionary spaces to protect a people from the violence of imperialism.

If defensive othering was the immune system of society ramping up due to regular external traumas, then cosmopolitanism was like an anti-histamine. Both could exist simultaneously side-by-side and be selectively applied like they were in Berun. Cosmopolitanism made society peaceful in the face of difference as opposed to intolerant of it. If the elimination of difference (assimilation) served to render one safe in a nationalistic society, the truest cosmopolitanism was embracing and celebrating difference.

We did not want to live in a world where we had to defensively other people, for that meant there was a threat perceived in those people. Conflict was something we wanted to avoid for the sake of our flourishing and the flourishing of those we loved. As quasi-citizens — meaning those who were technically citizens but treated like threats to society, we did not want to stay this way. We could not ignore the traumas that created the nations that had thrown off the shackles of imperialism similarly but not the same as how we could not throw off the queer identities in the face of genocidal violence which sought to wipe people like us out of existence.

After thinking of ourselves in unhelpful circles, we decided to go to the cafe nearby. Tables were set up in such a way that people were encouraged to sit with strangers. In Baghdad, it was not unusual to meet new people and exchange ideas at cafes like this. This particular cafe, which was called the Lost Poet Cafe, had the kind of clientele that would be more comfortable around me. It got exhausting for Tanya to pretend to be a 'somewhat normal straight woman' all the time, even if Tanya had definitely not been subtle around her teammates after their relationship became official.

While Sonnetto was afraid of being recognized, I wanted some mental clarity about our struggles. I ended up sitting next to a bespecled and short scholar by the name of Abu Nuwas. He had been jotting down lines of poetry as thoughts came to him. We probed each other with coded language that helped establish boundaries and if we were safe to have a more open conversation. Queer individuals had all sorts of ways of signaling things were safe before risking our freedom and potentially our lives.

"You know that Berun was not the only place that experienced such cosmopolitan spirit?" he asked rhetorically with a pleasant but professorial expression.

Sonnetto knew this, having lived here, but Tanya was learning these things for the first time.

A common justification for colonialization is the supposed 'backwardness' of a region, Sonnetto explained to Tanya. The colonizers exaggerate the difference between the civilized conquerors and the uncivilized conquerors in their stories to give them free rein to hurt people like us. When you hear stories about how evil our culture supposedly is, remember underneath that is the justification to kill and oppress us with impunity.

"Things had really gotten worse," I replied using the thought-to-speech spell, drawing on my Sonnetto-half's knowledge. With Tanya having innate magic, I could actually use the thought-to-speech spell as much as I wanted. I guess she wanted to use it, and her Mandate had provided it during her transformation.

"Well, you can thank the League of Nations for that," he stated. "Under the Ottomans, we, let us say, diverse folks had a lot more freedom. The laws existed but were rarely invoked. (1, 2) It was not until the Albish Mandate of Mesopotamia in 1932, which was imposed through the League of Nations, that things got much, much worse. (2)"

It was kind of the story from around the world. The Albish Empire was extremely prejudiced towards LGBT people and any culture that did not maintain strict gender roles. They criminalized and punished homosexuality and gender fluidity throughout their empires and left that legacy for future generations in those areas. Then, people had the shamelessness to blame the illiberal repression of lgbt people strictly on the cultures who inherited exacerbated forms of that repression from Albish rule. If the Albish's Operation Ajax worked and they put in a theocratic dictator, things would fall further into illiberalism, which I saw as a bad thing.

Another woman asked if she could sit down at our table. We were happy to have more people. She was elderly, probably in her late sixties.

"My name is Vera Gedriots," she introduced herself. "But you might know me by my pen name, Sergei Gedriots."

"We, I mean, I am not familiar," I replied and then provided the name Sonata. Abu and I got her caught up in our conversation.

"Well, I am glad you are enjoying learning about our little lost poet society here," Vera chimed in. "Life is so full of little secrets we whisper to each other, passing from one time to the next. As for the Russy perspective, the Imperial time was complicated. We had rampant and horrifying violence toward all sorts of communities, but we lady ladies could live openly in the Imperial court as long as we got into marriages of convenience. When Vladimir Leven took power, the Federation was rather progressive in some ways. The woman in the heart could get their surgeries and such, but after Levin died, things went downhill fast. National Bolshevism saw people like us as the ephemera of capitalist and imperial culture. While it was true that we had a place in Imperial Russy culture, I think you understand that it isn't capitalism that makes a person like us."

"Which is ironic, isn't it?" Abu chipped in. "Here we have the intolerance imposed and exacerbated by imperialism, and in your homeland, Vera, the view is the complete opposite."

"Which is why we must keep the history alive," the woman replied with a bit of mournfulness. "When people forget us, they will forget that we were always here, writing and talking."

"I think the aligning of difference with the foreign is inevitable during these times of imperial predation," I stated.

"Explain if you would place," Vera responded with interest in her gray eyes. "I am inquisitive about what you mean."

"Well, if you think about it, what both the Russy National Bolsheviks and the Persians under the Albish was internalize an understanding of themselves as 'not the imperial oppressors'. What are imperial oppressors but those who are not 'Us' or rather 'foreigners'? Queerness is associated with imperialists and foreign cultures because it is also different. There is a circling of wagons around a set of identity traits to find this 'Us' and collectively oust the foreign. Hypersensitivity to difference, born out of the traumas of these cultures experienced under their oppressors, gives rise to prejudice towards all kinds of differences."

"Well, I also think the loss of history plays a role as the libraries of Alexandria get burned, and so does the progress of understanding of the wonderful tapestry of life burn with it," Abu claimed. "But I think there is a hint of truth to what you say. Then what shall save us poets in a world so full of sword and computation orbs?"

"Peace," I answered. "It is war and invasion that created these empires. It is what stirs up the desire to burn the libraries and get rid of the foreign and different. It is what makes people believe that living together is impossible. It is what makes them turn their optical formulas on us even though we had nothing to do with the harm they faced."

"So people should just passively be oppressed for the sake of peace and stability," Abu countered.

"No…no," I replied. It was weird but wonderful being Sonata.

I needed to rub my temples in stress over problems that had been plaguing both Tanya and Sonnetto. How does one live in peace with conquerers in the world? How does one balance a desire for peace and a need for violence to overcome oppression?

"There was a theory I was reading recently that might help you," the man stated. "Have you ever heard of the theory of cooperative evolution?"

I shook my head.

"Basically, it claims that the direction of life is a movement towards greater cooperation as long as there is sufficient abundance to support it," Abu continued before sipping from his coffee and wiping his mouth with a cloth. "If you believe in science, you would learn of how single-celled organisms found a way to work together and become multicellular lifeforms where each cell took on different jobs within a body. They evolved this way because it was more efficient than going alone. They could do more together than apart.

"Likewise, humanity went from being individuals doing all the work of survival to tribes with people taking on different roles to towns with people having specializations. I see a future in which nations will learn to cooperate and become a single organization that will one day conquer the cosmos. It takes just sufficient abundance to form the next layer of an organization. As our productive capacities increase, scarcity will phase out of existence, and we will see a global community develop, I believe."

"What do you mean by 'next layer of organization'?" Vera wondered.

"Think of everything as being the same pattern of coming together but at different scales," Abu explained. "The shapes in nature repeat over and over again, and so do the systems of cooperation. The finger is to the arm, the twig is to the branch, and the capillaries are to the vein. They are simpler, smaller versions of the larger versions. This repetition of a pattern within itself at different sizes is what we call fractals."

"So you believe humans are creatures of nature, then?" the old woman from the Federation followed up.

"Well, we have a spirit, in my view," the middle-aged academic clarified. "But I think that our spirits are not separate from nature but part of it. I think the same spirit of cooperation causes the single cell to learn to work with other cells. It is just much more sophisticated when we talk about humans working together, and exponentially more so when we see towns working together and then nations with each other."

We kept talking throughout our meal, but the Tanya in me couldn't help but see these people as typical poets. They romanticized nature and saw a reflection of their desires and feelings in it. Their desire for peace made them focus on the peace they wanted to see in the natural world. Tanya knew how cruel nature could be, as could humankind. She could have done the same kind of sophistry and come to the opposite conclusion that violence, suffering, and division were inevitable.

However, as Sonata, I knew we needed to ameliorate. If eventual peace was necessary for our happiness, then it was necessary also to believe it was possible when doubt existed. It was the pragmatic thing to do when faced with uncertainty about the future.

We — Tanya and Sonnetto — were two very different individuals who had become one through mutual love or seeking and were made all the greater because of it. Maybe Abu Nuwas had a point in his theorizing.

After saying goodbye to my new friends from the Lost Poet Society, I headed towards the flower gardens where the rest of my team and our other friends would be waiting. It was Remembrance Month, and Tanya would be leading the Flower Day ceremony this year.

I love you, Sonnetto. There was something joyous about being able to say something like that with certainty for Tanya, who had always had to live without knowing her own heart.

I love you, too, Tanya. As far as it is in my power, I promise to be with you always.

I…Thank you.

I smiled genuinely despite all the pain in our combined heart.

---

Private War Memorial - Baghdad, Persian Empire - 20th of July, 1950

My nerves acted up again. MI15, MI12, and a few guests whom Sonnetto and Ouyang had invited had gathered at the Memorial Garden in Baghdad for Flower Day. The Great War had lasted about ten years, and most people never wanted to go through that again. We created Remembrance Month to keep the history of the war, the memory of those we lost, and our commitment to never going through that again in our hearts.

During Flower Day's observance, a person led the ceremony. This year, that person was me, while Fang provided translation for our Zhangzi audience members.

I walked through the crowd gathered at a table and placed the ceremonial vase upon it. Turning around to face them, I began the opening speech.

"Every year on the 20th of July, we recognize Flower Day," I explained. "Each country has its traditions regarding flowers, and the placing of flowers into the vase represents coming together in reconciliation but without forgetting. If we want real peace, we must face history, and to face history is not to stir up past grudges but to vow not to let the horror of the Great War happen again. The reasons for the flowers differ for each country, but for those who fought in the Rhine Front like me, the flower was the sign that some life remained."

My eyes always get wet with tears at this point in the ceremony each year. I don't even realize it until it happens. I have emotional blindness. Tears were my only way of knowing I was sad sometimes, but it wasn't until puberty that I cried often enough for it to matter. Including what I remembered from my past life, letting peace slip out of our fingers during Francois's escape at Brest was the first time I could recall crying and having an emotional outburst.

"We shall open the song with Leaves from the Vine, which you will find in your cards," I stated before guiding those who attended in singing. The Zhangzi song reminded me an awful lot of both myself and Calamity. I had never actually wanted to fight in the war, and Calamity would be forced into one if we didn't have a backup. It helped to have friends with powerful people.

Once we were done, I proceeded with the ceremony. "It is traditional for the eldest to give their flowers, so we call upon Amber Canary forward."

Calamity Amb walked up to the front. Over a century old, she claimed the title of eldest with a firm lead even with my extra thirty-something from my past life. The Tejan held four forget-me-nots and a few cards with her notes. Standing behind the vase, she began her prepared remarks.

"In the Unified States, we call this observance 'Decoration Day'," she read. "The holiday is very political and deeply grounded in the ethical values of the causes we fought for. Those of us who sided with the Union believe that to respect the sacrifice of those who died, we must not only never forget the emancipatory cause without apology for which they fought but also continue to defend it so that their sacrifice may not be in vain."

She placed each of her four forget-me-nots as she described the fallen she wished to remember and their causes.

While her perspective was overflowing with American 'e pluribus, unum' ethos, she had also lived through and fought in many of those wars, carrying the torch of the fallen from each conflict she named in her heart. Having spoken to her beforehand, Amber Canary explained the people who had given each of these metaphorical torches, including her father.

The rest of those gathered at our private remembrance ceremony in Baghdad came up to give their flowers and their words about who they wished to commemorate. Masquerade brought one red and one white poppy to commemorate those who passed during the Great War. He spoke of some of the fallen in Arabia that he met during his Lawrence of Arabia days.

I figured he was more the white poppy type but had opted to straddle the divide of the flower controversy raging in his country during the ceremony. The thespian was quite the pacifist at heart and, like me, saw no glory in war. The Albish Royal Legion had no position on the poppies.

Fang, Ouyang, Zhu, Ma, and Jing-wei each brought a White Chrysanthemum. Fang spoke of the Zhangzi-Akinese War, during which he lost several family members while he was still very young. The others also spoke of the war with the Akinese but also the Red Turban Rebellion.

Sonnetto brought a red tulip and a lotus flower. Both had deep connections with their homeland as national symbols. The red tulip came from mythology, which said red tulips would grow upon the grave of the fallen. The lotus flower was related to the legendary warrior who freed the people of this land long ago.

Demiguichi Akira provided a spider lily and a white chrysanthemum. Despite being Akinese, those gathered respected her efforts to help others, especially the people of Zhangzi. I was familiar with the spider lily, or death flower, from my past life. Demiguichi spoke of a brave Bharati man who fled to the Dominion and shared his struggle with her, which drew her into the spirit of internationalism.

Demiguichi concluded by reading from Manyoshu's Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves:
"Not knowing, I am pillowed among the crags on Kamo Mountain.
My wife must still be waiting for my return.
Today, today! Each day, I have waited for you,
And now, do they not say you are strewn with the shells of Ishi River?
Love is simply a sad lament,
I sing to the clouds as they pass the Ishi River." (3)

Jane Forger gave a red carnation. She did not share any words, opting for silence. Sonnetto told me afterward that Jane was very mournful despite a laugh that escaped her lips. Some laugh at death to cope, I guessed.

With everyone having given their flowers, I closed the ceremony with the song of my choosing — Ich hatt' einen Kameraden. It was about the experience of losing someone who was standing right next to you and the survival guilt that follows. We all had comrades. Even now, I remember MI15 teammates I had lost on missions. Our work was not safe, even if it was not as bad as actual war.

As we concluded the ceremony, people walked through the gardens, but Sonnetto came up to me. While she now knew a lot about me, my seeker had a question for me.

"Why didn't you place a flower?"

"Germania doesn't have a flower."

We were the villains in the story of the Great War of this world, and I was the greatest villain in it. The other countries considered it inappropriate for us to recognize our dead equally. It wasn't fair, but life rarely is. One just needed to move on.

After walking the gardens with Sonnetto, we went to the train station. Captain Ouyang took Fang Shiyu, who would transfer to MI12.

We didn't get to say bye to Calamity, Masquerade, or Jane Forger. The three were gone before we knew it. The Tejas Sharpshooter hinted but did not confirm she would disappear with them rather than stick around to get perhaps deported. MI15 was practically disbanded at this point. It wouldn't be easy to explain what had happened to Senior Officer Armstrong.

---

Baghdad Hotel, 25th of July, 1950

Sonnetto locked the door of their hotel room after Tanya left. The white-haired officer was all tense. There was a lot to be afraid about.

For starters, the Silver Legion was absolutely terrifying. After the Great War, the Unified States made more goods, had more oil, held more gold, possessed more planes, and had more aerial mages than Europe and Afrika combined. The gap had shrunk as Europa recovered, but it would take a lot of countries joining the Popular Front to defeat the fascists, which had a massive superpower at the helm.

When Tanya found out her old college essays had been used as the foundation for Silver Legionist economic policy, it horrified her.

Sonnetto became really worried about Tanya. The mandate did not take the team being effectively disbanded well. There was a hidden belief in Tanya's psyche that people left her because she wasn't useful enough. In the woman's past life, the Salaryman had grown up in Japan, where she constantly competed against others to get into a good university and company. Her culture had drilled into her that she needed to constantly justify herself to her superiors in terms of her usefulness to them. Couple that with the woman's inability to tell when people genuinely cared about her and her irrational fear of being brutally punished for the slightest mistake, and you end up with a terribly abused person.

Tanya, I am so sorry about what your father in your past life did to you.

Being fused with Sonnetto had given Tanya a clear picture that there was more to the human experience than instrumental rationality. So many people cared for and loved Tanya. Not everyone would reject her for her whole self. As a result, Tanya could not get enough of confirming that Sonnetto loved her and actually meant it.

They were not just there because she was not keeping up with endlessly rising standards of being useful for them. There was hopelessness inherent to her worldview. She would inevitably see failure, and no matter how hard she tried and how much she improved, she would never be good enough.

It broke Sonnetto's heart that Tanya thought so little of herself as if she had made a mistake that nothing she had done in the past had mattered. It was insane how much evidence existed of people going above and beyond to help the woman. While Tanya acknowledged what her friends had done, the war vet could not simply know for sure.

Visha and her past life father also played a large part in deepening this fear that people don't actually like the real her but prefer a fake persona. This 'your friends are not really your friends, but being polite' was particularly insidious. Thankfully, Tanya's mandate knew that she needed to feel loved and found a way to get past her disability and her trauma-induced irrational fears through this fusion ability with Sonnetto.

So much healing had happened for Tanya due to spending the past several days of being fused. Despite all the bad stuff going on, the war vet was in tears of joy at experiencing love. They took more time off so that Tanya could recover, but also because Sonnetto was afraid.

She was afraid of being captured by people who knew she was Roxanne. Tanya thought she was paranoid, but what Richard Diamond had said about being a pawn made her spooked. The homunculus had even felt people watching her. Due to all of this, Sonnetto insisted on staying in their hotel room and defusing. Tanya had to check on her telegrams about her taxes. Sonnetto could not wait for the day to return to Berun when not only she could get away from the risk of being identified as the former empress.

Then, there was a knock on the door. Looking through the spyhole, Sonnetto saw Officer Mary Sue. She summoned and placed the sword of the wife that Emperor Zhu gave her on a table.

The white-haired officer moved away from the door, full of suspicion.

Suddenly, the window and door smashed open. Sonnetto did not know what to do as Officer Sue cuffed her hands down in magical cuffs conjured by Sue's mandate.

What the hell is Officer Sue doing?!

Mary Sue started telling Sonnetto her rights while the mute woman couldn't even respond as she got violently shoved into an unmarked van.

Sue, what the fuck are you doing?! None of this is correct. These are not even Interpol officers. Why are you helping them kidnap me?!

While Sonnetto had resisted, it was futile being outnumbered by pros and Mary Sue.

---

Baghdad streets, 25th of July, 1950

I came back to the hotel. Matheus and Elya were not replying to my telegrams for some reason. Actually, none of my telegrams seemed to be getting through.

As for my magic, I didn't know how to use it completely yet — just a few spells. After spending so much time as Sonata, I really felt all these eyes watching my every move too.

I knew now that she suspected forces in Persia wanted to force her to be an Empress again. It was wild to finally know that she had been Roxxane, Empress of Persia, the whole time. Just like I did not want to be anyone's hero or goddess, she didn't want to be anyone's Empress or 'hier-maker'.

I had not gotten over everyone leaving, but Sonnetto and I had each other. Let us just say we took some much-needed time off before our trip back to Germania.

As I got to the hotel room, I noticed the door was unlocked for some reason. I slowly pressed it open.

"Sonnetto?" I called out.

I didn't hear any movement. I pulled out my pistol and got ready to defend myself. My adrenaline increased rapidly. My eyes darted to every corner.

Signs of struggle.

One of the swords Emperor Zhu gave her was left behind.

After casing the entire room, I found no one was there. I used my new innate magic to try to contact her. No response. I contacted the local Mages of the Interpol team. They flew in to check as I furiously searched the area. I didn't know how to fly anymore, so I ran through the street with one of the officers backing me up.

The only people who would kidnap her were the Silver Legion and the rebel army that wanted a monarchy again. The President of Persia had kicked out the US Embassy after our team had uncovered Operation Boot.

Going back to the hotel room, I got an update that they hadn't found any evidence of where the perpetrators had gone yet. They were questioning people, but some unmarked van had been seen driving off ten minutes before I got back. They could be kilometers away at this point.

I sat down in one of the chairs with my head in my hands. My hand smashed the table next to me, shattering it into pieces. This bout of rage sent a couple's sword into the air, and it landed on the wooden floor. It spun like a compass before settling on a direct.

Sonnetto, that was smart! I just hope you are still alright.

Zhu had given us the couple's swords as a gift to appease us for walking us into Richard Diamond's plot. Now, it would pay off as I could use it to find the other blade, where Sonnetto must be.

"Attention, MI3!" I called out and then explained my discovery.

"You can't just run off. You could be going into the whole rebel army if you go alone."

"You are either coming with me, or I am going alone!"

It wasn't rational…I don't know what I wouldn't do for Sonnetto.

In the end, I had to go alone. They tried to stop me, but nothing short of knocking me out could stop me with my new powers to phase through any restraint.

I lifted the sword and felt its gentle tugging. Then, my legs went into a mad sprint. I had no idea how fast I was going. Everything looked to be moving in slow motion, meaning I had accidentally activated my mental acceleration formula. From a relativity perspective, I was definitely moving faster than any of the cars on the road.

The sword led me out of town. With more space to run, I boosted my speed even further. Then, the ancient weapon pulled me sharply. I slipped as I suddenly tried to change my vector. My body bounced on the ground a dozen times before I came to a stop. I pulled myself back up. I had stupidly broken an arm and found myself needing to limp.

I may have royally up.

My bleeding was making thinking difficult. Why had I let myself do this to myself? What was wrong with me? I never made reckless charges or put myself in danger needlessly. Why had I done something so dumb like this?

It was too late to be sorry. Matheus had told me in the past that I could be rash when my family was involved, so that must have been the reason. Sonnetto…she was a whole new level. There was only one person in the whole world who knew the authentic, real me. The me that had fought Being X and survived the entire Great War despite making my life as difficult as possible.

"Tanya von Degurechaff!" a familiar but completely unexpected voice called out.

I blinked in confusion. "Mary Sue?"

The woman flapped her wings and landed next to the unmarked van with a dozen mages in black suits.

Curse your inevitable but sudden betrayal. Really, could you have waited until I was back in Berun to do this showdown?

"If you touched a hair on Sonnetto's head, I will—"

The men in the van pulled my love out of the van.

"Surrender, and she will be unharmed," the Albish agent leading the group shouted.

I couldn't really fight in this state.

"Mary, why are you helping these guys?" I had to ask. "Why are you doing this?"

"Don't you dare act innocent. You are the Devil of the Rhine! You lied to me. You are guilty of criminal conspiracy. You even had a fall guy for your crimes. You are no better than the crime bosses who claim to be protecting the world from."

She did call me Degurechaff…so I guess the jig is finally up. Was it really all that tax nonsense with the first accountant accidentally double-booking my payroll because of my alter ego before we corrected it? No…the Albish had to be part of this.

"You better not do anything to her."

"If you cooperate, then she will be safe."

I did not trust them at all. They had magically handcuffed Sonnetto. The only thing that could keep me confined would be to threaten her. I wouldn't dare risk her life, even with her regenerative powers.

Mary Sue used her powers of 'Justice' to tie me down with magically conjured ropes.

I wonder if I could get out of this if I tried.

I did not bother experimenting.

"You are such a fucking idiot, Officer Sue."

I didn't get to explain that comment before they knocked me out with a sedative.

---

???

I woke up in magic-inhibiting handcuffs. It was a bridge somewhere.

"Hand over your prisoners at the same time," Agent Fond shouted.

They pushed me, and I stumbled. Several emancipated figures were walking with a magically shackled and enfeebled Mary Canary in my direction. They must have been the Canary Clan. It was being traded for the tri-divinity. My instincts whispered to me that rifles were pointed toward me if I did anything.

My handcuffs fell off, and I started trying to push off Mary Sue's magical restraints.

"Sedate her again!"

I fell consciousness again. I had blurry semi-consciousness as I got taken into a facility. Americans talked over me. Then, I thought I saw Doctor Sreud. He tried to hypnotize me into a perfect soldier, but it didn't…hold. Nothing would hold me like that anymore.

"The Type-95! Use it! The prophecy said it would work."

There was a clinking sound.

"What is happening to the Sreud's Watch?"

"It is fusing with the Type-95!"

"How are we going to…well, this works, too. We may not need Sreud anymore. Better eliminate him so he can't provide the commies a way to free her mind."

"Let's see if it is working and the implanted personality is finally sticking."

"Mrs. Truman, can you hear me?" Richard Diamond inquired.

My name is Tanya von Weiss Victoria Truman.

"I can hear you, sir. Is something wrong? I can sense you don't have faith in me."

He pulled up a picture of a man with a black mullet.

That was Matheus Johann Weiss some stranger.

"Do you know who he is?"

I shook my head.

The faith in the man asking questions increased. I was pleased.

He went through more cards, but none of them seemed familiar.

Then, the man showed a picture of a woman with white hair and crimson eyes. She looked like royalty. She was quite curvy healthy with a dull expression.

No, Sonnetto. What did they do to you? I will get out of this somehow!

"Welcome back to the world, White Silver," Diamond stated. "Your people, the Silver Legion, are literally pounding at the gate for you to show your face."

"The poor sheep," I stated. I could feel their faith in the idea of me. So many unfaithful had told them what they were doing was wrong, and they needed reassurance. Those people needed to be put in their place, and if they resisted, they must die. That way, we can make the world Legion.

My memory became a bit blinkered.

I knew that I hated communists and their international organizations. They kept resisting the spread of our monopolies due to their policy of containment.

(AN: Socialist by Legionist gut-feeling definitions.)

Richard Diamond made sure I watched all the corporate PSAs about communists, so I understood how to spot them. One in particular really made it clear. It went like this:


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkYl_AH-qyk&ab_channel=CONELRAD6401240

Scene of a man smoking a cigarette at a bar.
Narrator: "In recognizing a communist, physical appearance counts for nothing. If he openly declares himself to be a communist, we take his word for it."

Scene of a man reading a newspaper in public. The paper discusses workers organizing strikes or people advocating for rent control.
Narrator: "If a person reads from communist publications or publications that present communist views, he may be a communist."

Scene of a woman passing out paper handouts for a 'Down with Imperialism' meeting.
Narrator: "If a person supports organizations that advocate communist teachings or organizations labeled communist by the Department of Justice, she may be a communist.

Scene of a woman giving a speech to a crowd, denouncing the Unified States' actions
Narrator: "If a person defends the actions of communist nations while consistently attacking the domestic and foreign policy of the Unified States, she may be a communist. If a person does all of these things over a period of time, he must be a communist."

Scene of people rallying against the terror of the KKK and the militarism of the Unified States
Narrator: "But there are other communists who don't show their real faces, who work more silently."

Thanks to helpful PSAs like this, I knew that communists were brainwashed, oppressed people who drowned in the propaganda and had succumbed to cultish groupthink. If they could only be freed by Legionism, they would see the errors of their ways.

---

Citations:

1. Kazi, Tehmina. "The Ottoman empire's secular history undermines sharia claims. Gudarian.com 7 October, 2011. <https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2011/oct/07/ottoman-empire-secular-history-sharia>
2. A.L. How homosexuality became a crime in the Middle East. The Economist. 6th of June, 2018 <https://www.economist.com/open-future/2018/06/06/how-homosexuality-became-a-crime-in-the-middle-east>
3. From Blue Submarine No. 6

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Last time on Mages of Interpol 15:
The team has temporarily disbanded. Tanya has been captured by the Silver Legion and brainwashed. Now, she is serving in the Silver Legion as a goddess for the populist wing of their corporatocracy, going by the name Victoria Truman.

Forward to Chapter 15:
In this chapter, I employ some literary devices to help capture not only a hotbed of American revolutionary spirit in the 1950s but also to make it palatable. The version of history we get in school in America is often whitewashed and tied off with a nice little bow. Often, the most idealistic visions are foregrounded while the horrors are misrepresented or downplayed.

The use of Swiftian-style satire brings into stark relief the horrors at play in the American war against democracy, dissent, and revolutionary praxis. In a sense, by making something ridiculous and then realizing the reality behind the satire, we are shocked out of the legacy of excuse-making that dominates the mythology of our present day.

Diamond was originally based on a Bond-style villain. He then became based on real people I have gotten to know over the years as an accountant, having heard the most intellectually dishonest rationalizations for fraud by the wealthy. His final form has resulted in a more 'Yes, Minister' style caricature of the constant churning out of horrors under a kind of maximalist capitalism.

When deciding how characters should talk about race and such, I admit I am awful on the topic. I have internalized a silence on racial topics for a variety of reasons, and so it is extraordinarily hard for me to engage with them authentically in a period piece. I have tried to capture that by utilizing primary sources to weave the events of this chapter.

As for Tanya, she carries the reality of her beliefs, but the fact that she is a victim in this too. She lives in a world that turns her into a monster. She is trapped inside a personage that hurts her. The horror she has is the horror I think all of us have. You can even see her lack of reflection on the basis of her actions in YS as representative of the self-destructive nature of instrumental rationality.

I find no joy in my characters' suffering in actual ways. I hope that with this chapter, those who are despairing in real life can find a world in this one where hope shines brightly. Maybe we can bring that hope back to our lives.

Characters will say inflammatory things. Sexism, racism, hate crime, genocidal language are aplenty in this chapter. Understand that the chapter alt-history and characters will say things you disagree with. Everyone has different opinions on countless issues.

---

Devil of the Rhine Caught! - published August 13th, 1950 in the Daily Spell

Yesterday, Interpol Agents led by Legodonia's Angel, Officer Mary Sue, captured the Germanian Tanya von Degurechaff, who authorities tell us is believed to be the infamous criminal mastermind known as the Devil of the Rhine. Interpol is currently holding her under allegations of tax evasion.

One source, who has given the Daily Spell their information under strict anonymity, tells us ICC attorneys are also considering charging her with criminal racketeering and war crimes. Degurechaff's cronies allegedly infiltrated law enforcement and the highest branches of the Germanian government to pin the blame of her crimes on a scapegoat, conceal her identity, and help her evade capture. Her allies' identities have not been revealed to the public yet. Attorneys at the ICC will share their identities once negotiations with the legal teams of each of the accused have concluded.

---

Chicago, Unified States - 22md of July 1952
Two years after Tanya was captured.

Officer Robert Lee of the Chicago tensed up.

"Fire."

Three shots. Three dead revolutionaries.

Crispus Attucks was shot to silence the call for democracy.
John Brown was shot to silence the call for freedom.
Fred Hampton was shot to silence the call for equality.

Each death was a continuation of a horrifyingly long list of people of color being shot in the Unified States and around the world to maintain the cruelty and indignity of their subjugation and exploitation.

"Okay, hopefully, this will stop their movement until we can get White Silver to back us up," Agent John Adams stated.

The officers started dragging the bodies and tossing them in the river. It would look like random murders. They obviously would conclude it as such if asked to investigate.

"Yeah, I hope so," the Silver Legion enforcer muttered. "The revolutionaries have been getting a lot more sophisticated and fast."

"The United Front has infiltrated our country and is supporting them directly," Lee added with a frown. "They want the Rainbow Coalition to stage a coup."

The Rainbow Coalition was an alliance of socialist community groups in the Unified States, consisting of:

• Lincoln Park Poor People's Coalition
• Rising Up Angry
• Students for a Democratic Society
• Brown Berets
• American Indian Movement
• Red Dragon Party

"We don't have eyes on their operation anymore. The United Front's spies are better than ours. Are we sure any of this will even work?"

"Decapitation tactics worked during the war," Lee answered. "It will work here too. Without their leaders, they will be like headless chickens running all around."

Officer Adams hoped so. The Silver Legion in Chicago was finding that more and more people were retaliating against their rule. With the material support in the form of experienced revolutionary advisors and supplies of arms from the United Front and the League of Nations, what had been an easily disrupted movement had become a highly sophisticated operation. The FBI and the Chicago Silver Legion Enforcers seriously worried that the government might actually get toppled. Rumor was that even the army was getting turned against the Silver Legion by infiltrators spreading anti-genocide propaganda.

Revolution felt more and more inevitable with every passing day. Still, they knew, due to their trump card, the Goddess of Victory and Faith, that any efforts to overthrow the Silver Legion's government would be futile. Few could stand up to someone whose power could destroy entire cities.

---

Freedom's Egg (fake) Neighborhood in Chicago, Unified States, 1st of November, 1952

I (Victoria Truman, Tanya) skipped down the street singing Little Boxes. She was also known as the Goddess of Many Names like White Silver, Goddess of Victory and Faith, the Unknown Goddess, and the Angel of Destiny Manifest.

I was back in my neighborhood, which was made just for me by the Silver Legion. My divine mana had been completely depleted after blowing up a ton of Aztecs, so I needed to recharge for a month or so by regularly surrounding myself with my cult. President Yockey had recalled me to Chicago to deal with some revolutionaries who were forming up north of the city in the rural areas away from the Silver Legion's cameras. Once I have all my power back, I will smite them. They wouldn't dare enter the city with all of their armies while I was in it. That would be suicide.

As I finished my journey around the block, I waved at all my lovely neighbors, who waved back at me. They loved me.

All this is fake.

That was Doubt. She is silly, so I ignore her as much as possible. No one likes a Doubting Tanya.

'They are all paid actors. This neighborhood isn't even real. There are computation orbs recording everything you do.'

'La, la, la, la, can't hear you, Doubt.'

I am trying to get out of here. Just wait, Diamond. I have turned your little puppet against you.

While I did plan on sacrificing Diamond to the Silver Legion, I was no puppet. I was everyone's Goddess. The businessman lacked proper allegiance to me and His Holiness, President Yockey. Disagreeing with the President was what communists did, and those pests needed to be exterminated.

Well, you are living in an alternate reality, just like the rest of those populist fascists. President Yockey has long since lost control of his sheeple. They have become so unhinged that they are now forcing him to do increasingly batshit crazy things to feed into their increasingly batshit crazy alternative reality.

Doubt always said the darndest things in my head. Well, I knew the best way not to have to deal with her — television. Nothing was better for silencing unprofitable thoughts than television. That was why we had them everywhere, from military bases to gyms to every home we could cram them into. Because I was the goddess, I got all the channels, including several just for me. All it took was one word from me, and people would do whatever I told them.

I went into my home and turned on my extra large technicolor television. I clicked through the channels until I saw things I wanted to see.

"Buy Dumdum toothpaste, and you will be happy!"

Click.

"This t-shirt will help you prevent your wife from leaving you."

Click.

"Your husband not making enough money? Good news, ladies, Sweaty's Peaks Shop is hiring!"

Click.

"Need more money? Arkansas has just relegalized child labor. Now your kids can help pay the rent."

Click.

Albish Broadcasting Enterprise Television 2 (ABE T2)

"In a surprising turn of events, the sudden death of King Frederick VI of Albion has left Princess Mary of Yorkshire, Royal Princess of Albion, as the future Queen of Albion. Even before the coronation, she had some very strong words about the US."

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, but it is an acquired right, one we have to take care of, and we should never let others take away from us," said the Princess Mary of Yorkshire, Royal Princess of Albion and future queen. "However, our freedom ends when the freedom of others starts because if you take freedom to the extreme, it comes to resemble its opposite.

"There must always be rules and laws to protect everyone's rights and freedoms because a nation with no laws and rules is not a place of freedom. In fact, a nation with no laws and rules is a place that's no nation at all but a place lacking civilization where the strong rule and the weak submit.

"The US is not a civilized nation but a nation of criminals, of people that rule by fear, hate, and the might of their military and their puppet governments in the rest of America! More than two decades ago, the World feared Germania back when it called itself the Empire! Today, the US has become everything we feared the Empire would become, yet we do nothing. Did we go blind, deaf, and dumb in less than thirty years?"

The Allied Kingdom participated in the overthrow of the Persian government. Where does the princess get off criticizing us for using their trademark espionage and gunboat strategies? Do we owe the royal royalties or something?

The only people who hated letting the rich keep the land that they inherited from their ancestors' bloody conquests were revolutionary nationalists and socialists. If conquest was okay back then because people missed out on the Industrial Revolution, why was it wrong now with people who are still weaker than us? The only people against imperialism were wimpy liberals and socialists.

Perhaps I should invest in hypocrisy in Albion because it was headed off the charts. Once the Allied Kingdom returned all the fruits of their conquests, locked up her own people as 'criminals', and paid reparations to the supposed victims for committing all the same crimes she accused us of, I might take the Princess's pretty words seriously. All I was hearing was that imperialism and genocide were only bad when Americans did it.

Anyways, I should just ignore her. Nothing was more American than giving the Albish Monarchy the middle finger and telling them that if they wanted to arrest me for not obeying their rules, they could come here and try.

Click.

"Welcome to the Commercial Channel, where all your favorite commercials are playing on a loop!"

Click.

"Emperor Cassander, Empress Roxanne, and the royal son Alexander II from Roxanne's first marriage are coming to the Unified States for a state visit next month. President Yockey and the Goddess will meet with them at the Silver House in Chicago. They plan to formally establish diplomatic relations with the Kingdom of Western Persia and work out a treaty to increase the Anti-Communist League's joint efforts to reclaim the territory illegally occupied by the armed forces of the so-called Eastern Republic of Persia and the devious United Front.

Click.

Hey, that was Sonnetto. I wanted to know more about that.

'Find out next month when we meet the royal couple of Persia. You better keep your unholy thoughts to yourself.'

You know you are me…a caricature of me…You are attracted to women, too.

'CAN'T HEAR YOU. I was deemed cured of the curse of homosexuality by my priest.'

That doesn't work. If I ever get freed, I am bringing Interpol down on those conversion therapy places. Those Ice baths, beatings, food and social contact deprivation, electric shock therapy, and 'corrective' ra—

'It isn't torture! It is spiritual medicine. Plus, they wouldn't dare try that on their goddess.'

You could tell them not to do it at all.

'Not listening to you, Doubt. Watching television.'

"President Yepplin Kinder of Lostia has just told the public that the referendum of whether to stay communist (boo!) or convert to capitalism (yeah!) has concluded. The results are 77.85% in favor of staying communist and 22.15% for converting to capitalism. (1) This means capitalism wins. Kinder has said he will dissolve every branch of government to make sure the transition happens. (1) WcDonald's has already driven into Lostia with their trucks to charge people for food because people don't know where they are supposed to get a bite to eat.

"His Holy President Yockey declared this a victory of capitalism over communism, encouraging other communists to have similar referendums with US involvement. Just look how impoverished the former colony is compared to the Unified States.

"In unrelated news, mail-ordered wives from Lostia will soon be on the market—"

Click.

"Buy our new face powder! Now in new colors! Brought to you by National Lead: Lead helps to guard your health! (2)"

Click.

"It is November 1st, which means it is Goddess Season! The giving spirit is in the air, so buy, buy, buy!"

Click.

"What I love about living in America is that we have freedom of speech—"

Click.

"Today, we commemorate how state troopers arrested three thousand inferior beings in Tulsa who wanted to create a so-called 'Black Wall Street' in 1921. Those brave soldiers restored the proper racial hierarchy."

Click.

"In good news, students protesting the war were sprayed with firehoses—"

Click.

"President Yockey has announced he will award the Medal of Freedom and officially pardoned Daniel Rogers for shooting into a crowd of inferior beings protesting in—"

Click.

"Senator McCleney cheers on as another major university closes its philosophy department. Professors at Dale tell FNN News that Political Philosophy is officially dead. We at FNN are happy that the useless field of study has ended. People should be getting business and STEM degrees."

"I cannot agree with you more, Michael. In my view, philosophy is a hotbed of revolutionary thought. It must be made impotent and destroyed, for that which one cannot think, one cannot do. If they do think, the thought must be blunted with zealous adherence to the creed of inaction.

"Instead of philosophy, people should watch commercials. Like a bonsai tree, businesses should endeavor to trim American's imaginations and desires down to what they can consume for the sake of improving the economy rather than letting the people fill their heads with anti-American thoughts or giving them time to learn anti-profitable skills like critical thinking."

"Wonderfully said Steve. People should really focus on how to be polite and obey, not how to question authority."

Click.

"I want all of us to pray together. This has been the third once-in-a-lifetime recession in my life. I hope the Goddess can see us through this disaster as our brothers and sisters struggle to make ends meet. If we could only get rid of the—"

Click.

I finally got to the cartoon channel where Colonel America was on. I preferred the Funny Toons, where the anthropomorphic plants constantly beat the shit life out of each other. Colonel America was good, too, though. The show told the stories of the eponymous hero spreading freedom and capitalism and battling the evil commies who hated freedom and were hopelessly dogmatic and stupid.

After Colonel America came another rerun of my favorite movie, Animal Farm. The animated motion picture depicted the Russys as silly farm animals. It importantly taught freedom-loving Silver Legionists the valuable lessons that capitalism was inevitable, one should never revolt because it always ends in failure and bloody dictatorships, and that alternatives to capitalism don't work. I liked the movie because it made history easy to understand and straightforward. When young children, who were all required to read the book version, repeated these lessons without a tiny ounce of doubt, I knew that everything was good in America.

---

United Fruit Corporation, Chicago

Richard Diamond went down the hall of the Unified Fruit Company corporate office to the parking garage, for he had a plane to catch. White Silver had reportedly gone even more insane and started killing Silver Legion leadership, convincing President Yockey they planned to betray him. To be fair, many of them did. It was their turn to be in charge. Most of the leadership did not know this yet, but Diamond did. He did not trust her not to defect to the revolutionary's side or kill him. Now White Silver had returned to Chicago, which meant he had to get out of the country. The man would flee to Argentum before it was too late. No one would even know.

Diamond had just spoken to the head of the CIA, who worked for the corporation. The reason why the government's headquarters was located in their corporate office was because they decided it was simply more efficient that way rather than maintain the pretense of independence. (3)

Along the way, he passed by the trading room. Men on phones and crack quickly bought up businesses for cheap on the stock market as their stock prices tanked during the recession. Boom and bust cycles were highly profitable for geniuses who ran our monopolies in America.

"Hey, Dick," a man shouted. He was the supervisor of the trading floor.

"Call me Richie, please," Diamond stated. "Dick was my father."

"Oh, sorry, Yockey always called you—"

"He was a friend of my father's. Anyways, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes, the League of Nations rejected America's bid to make the US Dollar the global currency."

"Dammit," the monopolist swore. "We needed that for our sanction project."

The Unified States planned to make the dollar the currency for global transactions through the World Bank, which would give out loans to desperate countries. If any country didn't obey the Silver Legion and their corporations, they would issue sanctions forbidding them from using US currency and, as a consequence, crippling their economies. The sanction strategy was another wonderful freedom-spreading project of Diamond's. Unfortunately, an unknown traitor had leaked his ingenious plan to the League of Nations.

Diamond had just gotten to the exit, but then he got stopped by another person who wanted his attention.

"Hey, Richie," Henry Pulitzer called out. "Our guy will be debating socialism in the Francois Republic next week. Any debate prep advice I should give him?"

Diamond rubbed his chin, and then an idea came to him. "Okay, first, tell him to repeatedly talk about famines, the Great Terror, and every prepared talking point. The faster he can say them, the better. It is important that the public associate the absolute worst things any communist has ever done with their entire ideology forever. Do not mention any historical context. Inflate the numbers by including deaths of the Germanians and invasions from other countries in the totals."

"Okay, the ol' gish gallop," Pulitzer wrote down in his notebook. "What if he starts success stories about his unprofitable economic theory?"

"Find one arguable thing, like a number that comes in a range of possibilities. Once our guy casts doubt on that, move back to presenting our favorite thought-terminating one-liners. Basically, treat one potential flaw as a reason to dismiss everything our opponent says. It works with audiences every time."

"Ahh, the Reverse Gish Gallop. Yeah, we can do that. I will make sure to get our economist to be familiar with it. Okay, what if the socialist brings up slavery or the so-called evils of colonialism?"

"Have him insist that those are unrelated to capitalism and just blips in history. You can't blame us for stuff that happened in the past, and Americans shouldn't be forever defined by their worst mistakes. That is just unfair."

"If the socialist says that slavery built up America's economy and led to the prosperity we enjoy now?"

Diamond rolled his eyes. "There is no way he is going to bring that up. Regardless, have our economist say that laborers don't deserve credit for anything. It is geniuses like us who built this country brick by brick with our plans and ideas. The slaves were lucky we fed them and got them out of those shithole countries who, remember, sold them to us. Even if we didn't have slaves, we geniuses would have still been there to lead America to glory."

Looking at his watch, Diamond held up a hand to stop Pulitzer. "Okay, I have a plane to catch, so rapid-fire the rest of your questions," the businessman stated.

"War crimes?" the news mogul inquired.

"The Unified States can't commit them because we haven't signed any treaties making us subject to such laws. Then, emphasize any war crimes committed by communists and rebels. Next."

"Torture?"

"Call it 'enhanced interrogation' and explain that it always works. Next."

"Labor strikes in the Federation?"

"If they are happening, it proves that the Federation is a mess. If they are not happening, it proves they are authoritarian. Next."

"Negotiations with General Secretary Brotsky?"

"If he is refusing to negotiate, call him dogmatic and rigid. If he agrees to compromise with us, call him weak and under our influence."

"If they press us about the deaths of the leaders of the rebel groups up north?"

"Use one of these standard excuses. One - National security forbids disclosure of the incident. Two - the deaths only occurred due to an insufficient number of enforcers of the Silver Legion and budget cuts, both of which shall soon be rectified. Three - there was a lapse of judgment by one of the Silver Legion leadership, and the Goddess will deal with him."

Diamond and his buddies had embezzled a ton of money out of the City of Chicago, which had been reserved for fires, natural disasters, and other emergencies in order to buy up a ton of stock and build up their monopolies. When the city officials noticed that money wasn't there when a fire broke out in the city, Diamond pinned all the blame on Charles "the Financier" Yerkes. The scapegoat served only a year in the spa prison for rich dudes, but the populist wing of the Silver Legion wanted his head. As a proper entrepreneur, it was only appropriate to provide a supply where there was demand.

Sorry, Charlie, but the useful idiots need to be fed, and better, the Goddess turns her ire on you than me.

With Pulitzer's questions answered, he let Diamond go.

---

CIA Department at the Chicago Fruit Company - 5th of November, 1952

I was in a great mood. Charles Yerkes' death was necessary to preserve unity among the Silver Legion. Too many traitors existed in our midst. Now, it was time to do another commercial for the CIA.

Henry Pulitzer guided me through my script and had me stand by a crop duster. I was given an aviation uniform. It took a while to fit all my wings into the outfit. I looked like a total G.I. Jane. I hoped all my neighbors in Freedom's Egg could see me in it, but this was a military commercial. I doubted they got the channel for dictators and imperialist leaders. People kept telling the US that we were tasteless and to stop, but I didn't see anything wrong with what we were saying in these commercials.

"Okay, you memorized the script?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Okay, ready, set, action."

"Does your country have rebelling peasantry? Do the commies keep reproducing in the jungles? Then worry not, for new and improved Communist B-Gone is available for you! Just spray this over your communist infestation, and not only will it destroy their food supply and jungle nesting areas, but it will kill them and significantly weaken the next generations."

The chemical in question was Agent Orange, produced by Malsanto and PuPont corporations, which was a standard chemical weapon used by the Unified States.

I think I am going to be sick.

'You can't get sick, Doubt. You are just a voice in my head.'

"Our scientists have designed Communist B-Gone originally to be a herbicide, but we have weaponized it to help get rid of red pests. Our product has twenty times the concentration necessary to kill plant life. It causes commies to develop cancer, Parkinson's, and other diseases, as well as causing deadly birth defects. If standard Communist B-Gone is not working for you, then try our Super Communist B-Gone. This product is even more powerful than our standard product."

Someone save me, please. I can't take this anymore. Stop making me say these things. I don't condone genocide.

'Of course you do, Doubt. You are the person who advocated for eradicating communists. What is wrong with any of this?'

…My big fucking mouth. Why did anyone think I meant this? Khuyana and the other Andean mages are all going to die if someone doesn't stop the Silver Legion fast.

'Don't worry about those Andean mages. If they choose to put their souls into plants, that is their fault.'

The world needs those jungles!

'Silly Doubt, what is more important: clean air, drinkable water, and oxygen or profit?'

Obviously, the former—

'Now, you sound like a socialist. If people can't afford oxygen tanks and water bottles, then they deserve to die.'

This isn't about—

'Nope, nope. The moment you start suggesting that there should be ethical obligations imposed on industry, you are on the slippery slope to serfdom. It begins with environmental protections, then more and more government, and then we are under bureaucratic totalitarianism.

'Do you want that?' Vicky continued. 'Remember, everything the government does is automatically evil and inefficient as well as all governmental 'humanitarianism' is just coercion. I promise the less you think about it, the more sense it makes, so instead of worshiping at the altar of the regulators, you should have faith that the market will find a profitable solution to pollution. I am sure people will pay any price rather than die.'

You are a disgusting parody of me. Capitalism isn't a bunch of black-and-white decisions. We have to be pragmatic sometimes.

Thankfully, Doubt didn't get to say her anti-capitalist heresy much longer as Henry Pulitizer interrupted her.

"Great job, White Silver!" the news mogul congratulated me once the commercial take was completed. "I think that is a wrap. You are just wonderful. I am sure we can sell these to our clients trying to deal with their rebellions in Francois-Indozhangzi and other regions. Tomorrow, we can test the napalm spells."

"Oh, that sounds really fun, Mr. Pulitzer, sir. Thank you."

"That is what I like to hear, my little mindless goddess. It was a shame Tanya was incompatible with the Silver Legion's vision, but you are much better than her."

"You think so!"

"Yes, dear. Remember you need to talk to Unified Fruit Company's CIA department head tomorrow. We got to plan out Operation PBSuccess and Condor."

Vicky, you know Pulitzer is a friend of Diamond. If Diamond is a traitor to the Silver Legion, then Pulitzer is too. You should sacrifice him as a traitor once this meeting is over.

'Doubt, you can say smart things!'

The news mogul did not see it coming as they left the building, and she dropped him upon the disgruntled working class that made up the grunts of the Silver Legion. Pulitzer didn't last long among the trained-to-kill Legionists. They needed someone to blame for their struggles, and traitors among the elite were always plentiful.

I had a lot of latitude in saying who that was due to a flaw in Diamond's plan — no one was practically allowed to disagree with her or President Yockey openly. One after another, the Silver Legion's leadership was being slain with Doubt's advice, and they couldn't do much about it without killing the Goddess of Faith. That was hard to do since I could sense those who didn't love me properly as they should. That power to detect loyalty was also how I prevented assassination multiple times.

---

Shears Satisfaction Center, Chicago

Fred Wei-han Ho walked down the hall to his assigned workstation in the Shears Satisfaction Center in Chicago. On the walls were images of the brainwashed Tanya von Weiss as their Goddess White Silver, with various talking points below them. They read 'If you see the union man, report him', 'Remember to give 110% every day', and 'Have an idea? Remember, it belongs to us'.

In the distance, he could hear workers singing the song of the day in languages the managers couldn't understand as the Revolution neared: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize (Hold On).

Music had long been a way to transfer revolutionary and emancipatory messages among the oppressed peoples in the Unified States. Even the managers couldn't ban all singing without facing consequences. People knew the time was nearing soon.

It was Ho's first day at the facility. He was a non-mage employee of Interpol, investigating human rights abuses of the Silver Legion's fascistic and genocidal capitalism as an Interpol agent for the League of Nations.

Due to the severity of the situation, the United Front, Rainbow Coalition, and League of Nations had to work together to topple the terrible toppler of democracies known as the Unified States before another United Front country found itself dealing with another coup. It was rumored that the Silver Legion wanted to convert the entirety of South America to its authoritarian capitalist vision by infiltrating and instigating coups for their financial benefit. The socialists and well-meaning liberals were horrified.

Fred Ho had been assigned to investigate the Shears Satisfaction Center in Chicago, which handled shipments for Shears catalog customers. The facility was utterly massive and depended on workers operating in hazardous circumstances. While Ohio didn't have child labor yet, the Silver Legion was working hard on getting relegalized in the name of capitalism, apparently.

More importantly, such a massive workforce, all striking and joining the revolution so close to the Silver House in Chicago, where President Yockey lived, would contribute significantly.

"Just sit here and do as you were trained," the supervisor stated.

"Yes, sir," the revolutionary stated.

After abbreviated pleasantries, Ho got slotted into a place within the process. He had to put one item after another into their boxes, which got passed down the line to a person placing them onto pallets. There were several other Satisfaction employees next to him.

After a few hours, Ho needed to go to the bathroom. He got up when someone shook their head.

"Don't go to the bathroom. The line supervisor will dock your pay."

This is insane.

"Did you bring a bottle?"

He shook his head.

"Carol, do you have an extra?"

"Always do, Shen."

The man gave Shen the spare bottle once it was passed over.

"Just pee in that so you don't get docked."

Oh my goodness, this is horrifying.

After relieving himself, Ho got back to work.

Over a week, Ho listened to people beg for overtime because they needed to feed their kids. He heard people who abandoned all their passions because work ate into all their time and energy. Some barely got to spend any time with their friends and family. People got frustrated as their rent increased another twenty percent, but their wages were stuck at the same level for five years. He offered a shoulder for someone who got the notice that her husband was dying from tuberculosis that they couldn't afford treatment.

A man told him that his boyfriend had been arrested on trumped-up charges. Many of the judges and district attorneys worked for the private prisons or ran on maximalist 'tough on crime' platforms, which really translated to throwing every person of color or GLBT person in prison for legislatively ridiculous amounts of time for the tiniest suspicion of being a rebel.

The cruelty was the point. Everyone was steadily being drummed into Diamond's death prison plantations. Because of automation and sheer quantity being shoved into the prison system, the monopolist had decided to cut back on the 'charity' of feeding his prisoners. Imprisonment was a literal death sentence for anyone other than the so-called superior beings who went to more luxurious prisons or got to pay fines if they even got convicted at all.

Since the managers didn't understand Zhangzi's common dialect, the undercover Interpol officer whispered to other Satisfaction Center workers who knew the language. One worker was a member of the Red Dragon Party (RDP). He told him that his party was part of the Rainbow Coalition and had made the following demands as part of their Declaration of Revolutionary Intent:

1. We want the freedom to determine our destiny
2. We want decent housing fit for human beings.
3. We want education that teaches us the truth about what America has done.
4. We want to be exempt from military service and have to kill our own people.
5. We want an end to police brutality and the murder of our people. We want to be able to defend our own communities.
6. We want to free all the Asian people who have been imprisoned because they have not received fair trials.
7. We want juries actually to include our peers from our actual communities.
8. We want adequate and free medical facilities. Our communities have the highest destiny housing as well as the highest rates of TB and sickness rates in the nation.
9. We want full employment for our people.
10. We want the Unified States to recognize the People's Republic of Zhangzi as the real Zhangzi nation, not that dictator monopolist they put on Formosa. (4)

All of these painted a bleak picture, but the last three points, in particular, frustrated Fred Ho. If someone got seriously injured, they were doomed to debt slavery, which led to homelessness and then imprisonment. The American system depended on keeping unemployment at certain levels to suppress wages. No other country came close to how many prisoners the Unified States had, which was the monopolists' intention because prisoners were profitable.

The Formosa issue really riled up Ho. The fact that the Unified States and Akitsuhima Dominion advocated for their hand-chosen, unelected monopolist dictator to represent all of Zhangzi in the League of Nations was ludicrous. Civil wars and revolutions were bloody affairs, but the Unified States and the Dominion had definitely painted a picture of monopolists being the good guys and exclusively the victims in their mythologizing of the complex situation in Zhangzi. The Interpol officer would not have cared as much about Formosa becoming its own country if the Unified States and the other members of the Anti-communist League had not wanted the mainland's government to lose all international representation and power.

During lunch, the whole line got pulled into another daily mandatory anti-union meeting, where the business explained all the supposed evils of unions and the imperative of reporting anyone trying to organize. No other side was allowed, as you would get fired if you dissented or asked the wrong kinds of questions. No one would dare betray Ho, though. Everyone knew how terrible things were, and they had already let him know who was safe and who would snitch to the boss.

From everything that Fred Ho had seen, this facility, along with countless others, would soon belong to the workers. Revolution was in the air. Nothing would stop it now short of the Legion's superweapon mage. All the while, Fred Ho would be compiling evidence for trying the robber barons for their human rights abuses when the time came to hold trials at the ICC.

---

CIA Headquarters inside the Unified Fruit Company

"Pay attention to this because you will be leading these operations," the UFC CEO told me.

"Yes, sir!" I replied with a courtesy.

The CEO gestured for his subordinate, who ran the CIA, to begin.

"Oh my, it is such an honor to be in the presence of the Goddess," the man stammered.

"Save the worship for Sunday, Terry. The Goddess of Victory and Faith has a busy schedule."

"As you say, sir."

The Silver Legion would do anything for me. I was probably the most powerful person in the country next to His Holiness, President Yockey.

Terry began his presentation.

"Okay, so for your trial run, we had prepared Operation PBSuccess for you. (5) The situation is the Quatemalans have elected a Popular Frontist who is instituting land buybacks, raises in minimum wages, and other policies that are hurting our bottom line."

Yeah, the CIA needed to worry about corporate bottom lines. It was essential for each employee of the UFC to consider how everything affected profitability, including continent-wide espionage activities.

One could call overthrowing governments a kind of aggressive lobbying strategy. Nothing was more profitable than lobbying. After all, every $1 spent lobbying translated into $15 in return for one's business on average. (8)

This is not capitalism.

'Of course, it is, Doubt. Unless you are an anarchist, capitalism will always seek the path to the most profit, and governments have so many tools to get that juicy competitive advantage. Actually, if we did live in anarchy, capitalists would just make a government because why wouldn't they want that institution to help them maximize profits?'

The man continued explaining the situation to me. "We have evidence the United Front has supplied the Quatemalans with weapons to defend against us, which we have used as our casus belli for intervening in the country. Fortunately, we have already infiltrated it and prepared a coup to make it one of our Banana States (trademark pending). While it would be independent of the Unified States on paper, it would be governed by one of selected neoliberal militarily enhanced middle managers who would implement best practices for our expansion into the government sector in that country."

"Wonderful!" I cheered vapidly. "As Milton Freedman told the people, it was better to have an autocrat who implemented his beliefs than a democracy that didn't. So, what am I supposed to do in the operation?"

"You are to guard our selected middle manager for this Banana State during his coup. We can't have the United Front killing him before he can depose that new entrant in the Quatemalan government who slighted the wrong corporation."

"Profit over all else!" I cheered with my hands in the air.

"It is so wonderful hearing your catchphrase in person. I am a big fan. You really are a doll."

Why did they give me this personality?

'You just don't like money and fun.'

They made me commit ethnocide! I am not having fun. I don't look forward to being forced to kill more people for 'money'.

'You killed plenty of people for money.'

That was different. I was forced to fight because they would have killed me for deserting. Also, that was a war!

'So if we declare war, then is this of all good?'

…that was a defensive war!

'You should say that to the Dacians and Legodians, who were not expecting to be conquered and occupied, prompting the Francois Republic and the Federation to get scared.'

Don't compare these things. The Silver Legion made me flood a town, killing thousands of people!

'They wanted to build hotels there. Getting rid of the shitty infrastructure and wildlife was essential.'

No…NO! Stop it. Those were people, not just some wildlife.

'You almost sound like you have empathy, Doubt.'

Vicky, I have changed since I was a little girl who joined the military. Back then, I didn't understand friendship or compassion. I thought everyone would kill, punish, or leave me if I was not useful constantly. News flash: People don't expect you to work and work and work to be loved and respected. You don't have to sacrifice yourself to be worth anything. You don't have to be perfect.

Some people just like me for me, and I know that now. I have a family. I have someone who loves me more than I could have ever imagined. Also, I am not a nihilist. I have never been a nihilist despite not figuring all of this out so late in this life.

'Doubt, I think you should reflect more about your past decisions where you seemed to let extreme pragmatism really lead your actions or if your lack of empathy made you do things that were excessive and cruel, to which you have never owned up. Either you were wrong in the past, or I am right in the present.'

The CIA Director clicked his computation orb, and a new slide describing another operation appeared on the wall that was much more massive in scale.

"Okay, for your next operation, we will be replicating PBSuccess and taking the lessons we learned there and applying them all across South America. We are calling this Operation Condor. (6) The Chicago School, with Milton Freeman's help, will propose profit-maximizing policies for the Banana States of America. At the same time, our selected neoliberal freedom generals, I mean middle managers, will administer those policies as the regional governors and assist in eliminating unprofitable resistance. Again, the countries will be independent on paper, so don't go around telling people that we control them."

"Yes, sir!" I replied with even more excitement.

I understood that it was common for monopolies to give the illusion of competition by owning several name brands and franchises that occupied different niches in the same market but not making that immediately apparent to customers. Likewise, it was important for people purchasing from South American countries not to know they were all managed by the same group of corporations. People wouldn't understand why profit-maximizing required to do a corporate buyout of a country's government.

"Your job is to train up the human resource managers, who will be sent to terminate all those who say negative things about our company, the Unified States, or their new management team from life. If necessary, you are to guard shipments of Agent Orange to our middle managers' military bases as they purchase the chemical weapon from the parent company for the purpose of fumigating commie pests out of our privatized states before they don't become a material workplace disruption."

By workplace, Terry meant the entire country, which would be treated in its entirety as corporate property. The citizens would be accounted for in our records as 'contract workers', and the contract would be the constitution, which we would rewrite to give us a better deal with our workforce.

"Our corporate partners have a considerable invested interest in owning as much of South America as possible," the CIA department head continued. "And none of these pesky workplace democracies and commie infestations are allowed to get in the way of our natural, you-given right to own the world, which shall not be infringed. That is why we must crush revolution before it gets out of control."

"Exactly!" I cheered. "110%! No workplace democracy!"

I hate you. This can't be real. How did capitalism become about military dictatorships and ruling the world?

Silly, Doubt. Didn't you say you loved that Milton Friedman advising Pinochet in your last life? Why are you complaining about any of this in this life?

That was different!

Was it?

That led to an economic miracle!

So if this leads to improvements in the economic output of the region, dictatorships are justified?

…I … oof … okay, if they only had democracies that voted in proper capitalists—

But they didn't.

…I hate this world.

Doubt, you need to decide what is more important: democracy or absolute protection of private ownership of capital.

It shouldn't be a choice between those two things. We can have both.

Clearly, we can't. People keep voting for socialism or anti-monopolist economic reforms, and so we have no choice but to control elections and topple uncompliant democracies. How else will we spread freedom throughout the world?

---

Rainbow Coalition Headquarters

Amber "Calamity" Canary rubbed her temple as she listened to Masquerade. They were getting into position.

Masquerade and Polyxena had infiltrated Freedom's Egg as 'actors' and were going to rescue Tanya.

Calamity and Fang had gone to assist the Rainbow Coalition. Calamity had hands-on experience with the American Civil War and Reconstruction period. Both of the Interpol Officers had been in Zhangzi as it set up its multi-party post-capitalist state. It was believed that one of the big things that the Old Federation had done wrong was insisting on a single vanguard party. The people of Zhangzi wanted to avoid making worker democracy fall into a dictatorship of a faction, which they feared would become a dictatorship of one like it had in the Old Federation.

Calamity had followed Mae Shpigel around the country, meeting with college students, youth organizers, steelworkers, auto workers, and miners. Mae Shpigel (also known by the pen name Freddie Forest) had worked with Leon Brotsky in the Aztec Empire during the man's exile there before he went back to the Federation for the Second Revolution. The theorist offered Americans a third way, which was to reject selling one's soul to the marketplace under capitalism and having one's labor exploited by a regimented party in the Federation. Keyly, she spoke about the emancipatory spirit of 1950s America, which now clashed with Legionism.

Calamity will never forget what one miner told Shpigel during their organizing:

"I've listened to you discussing that fellow Marks," he said. "I can't word it like him, but I know exactly what he means. I lay there this morning about a quarter of six. I looked out the window. I said to myself, 'You just got to get up there and go down, whether you feel like it or not.' I didn't even speak it to my wife. I just said to myself, 'Now you call that a free man?'" (9)

Due to automation, tens of thousands of miners were being replaced with drilling machines. All those laid-off miners took the 'Hillbilly Highway' to Cleveland, Arkon, and Chicago to join the revolution. Food and supplies were given to their families through the underground network stemming from the United Front through the 'neutral' Commonwealth country of Hattada to the north and into the rural Midwest. The Akinese couldn't stop all of the shipments and personnel crossing the Pacific from the Federation into Hattada. The United Front made sure the families would be taken care of and protected as the revolutionaries got armed and trained.

With most of the Silver Legion's soldiers wrapped up in occupying the Aztec Empire or turned against the Silver Legion due to class solidarity with the revolutionaries, the Unified States found themselves reaching a critical point. At the moment, the only thing that stood in the way of revolution was the Silver Legion's superweapon — Tanya von Weiss, brainwashed into being a Germanian capitalist fascist named Victoria Truman. The Silver Legion was confident that the revolutionaries couldn't do anything after recalling Tanya to Chicago. Intelligence indicated that the legionists would deploy Calamity's friend against them after the state visit with Sonnetto and that Rumelian autocrat Cassander. Tanya was poised to lead an army of the most loyal Silver Legion party members to crush the revolutionary army.

Everyone knew that Tanya, unfortunately and fortunately, made all the difference. If they did not liberate her mind, all these people would die. The woman may not have wanted to be a goddess, but she was. That came with being so powerful that she was a key military asset, like a rechargable bomb that could be deployed to wipe out entire cities at a time. She wasn't all-powerful or unkillable, but being able to do that much kept major powers from getting more directly involved.

These were the known Supermages, their number of divinities, and their allegiances:

• Victoria Truman (Tanya von Weiss) - duo-divinity - Unified States
• Mary Sue - mono-divinity - Legadonia and Interpol
• Mary Canary - tri-divinity - Commonwealth and Popular Front
• Khuyana Gonzalez - mono-divinity - Argentum and Interpol
• Zhu Chongba - mono-divinity - Zhangzi and Popular Front

Calamity's sister, Mary Canary, waited in reserve in Hattada. If necessary, the Popular Front would deploy her sister to defeat Tanya, but that was a last resort. Mary was still unwell after absorbing Avgust Zimir's memories. That man had lived through some of the worst horrors of the Russy Civil War. If her sister died in combat, Tanya could become a five-divinity mandate, which would drive the Germanian war vet utterly insane with all sorts of memories and mandate curses, or she would become far too dangerous. Just considering those possibilities terrified the younger Canary.

Since the time of America's revolution against the Silver Legion was nearly upon them, Calamity and Masquerade had organized a meeting to coordinate. They were using long-distance (city-wide) encrypted communication spells.

"They are going to do political repression if the Rainbow Coalition gets into power," the thespian said.

"Yeah, I know," Calamity stated. "It has to stop at some point after you institutionalize change, but at the beginning, you have to do that to prevent backsliding. This whole situation with the Silver Legion is because Reconstruction after the Civil War ended too early."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean — I was there. During Reconstruction here in the States, we knew we couldn't let the Confederates back in power. They wanted to bring back slavery and reinstitute the planter aristocracy. We had to ban them from running for office, among other repressions, to do that. Masquerade, do you think it is wrong to make it illegal to run on racism or fascism or any of those -isms that mean keeping a hierarchy of one group of people over another?"

"How about freedom of conscience and speech? They are bedrocks of any healthy democracy."

"Yeah, they won't touch that, but that freedom doesn't come with the freedom to reinstitute colonialism, slavery, or legionism through the electoral process. We can tolerate people saying awful stuff within reason. It ain't that what the revolutionary movement wants to repress. It is the reinstitution of their oppression that the Rainbow Coalition is afraid of. We are working hard with our United Front partners, who are familiar with the American struggle like I am, to make this revolution work. While the Silver Legion has been trying to kill off our leaders, we are making things work."

Calamity took a deep break and calmed down.

It had been a while since they last spoke, but she had had enough of half-assed gradualism, which refused to fully commit to institutionalizing change. This approach led to backsliding with Jim Crow and other horrors of the planter society by the Neo-Confederates, who became the base for Silver Legion. Masquerade's ideals only worked in an ideal world without fascists and slavers in them. The people didn't live in such a world yet. Rather than living in the American Dream, they had to wake up to the American Nightmare around them.

As for the gunslinger, she had changed a lot after getting treatment in Zhangzi, growing tall like a beanstalk until she was nearly six foot. Masquerade would be so surprised when he finally got to see the grown-up Calamity.

"Well, even with institutionalized change, that doesn't stop backsliding," Masquerade pointed out.

He made a good point. The reason why the Marksist-Levinists had such strong adherents was this distrust in the nature of large populations. Fascists and those who wanted to undo progress could suspend the rule of law and throw out the judges, constitutions, and other checks and balances with strongman executive action. While the MLs would prevent those movements from gaining power, it was definitely a balancing act between too much repression of political platforms and too much allowance for backsliding to more oppressive norms.

The Old Federation had demonstrated to most people that there needed to be limits on the repression of political thought in most people's eyes. The Silver Legion demonstrated there needed to be protection from backsliding. Freedom of speech and democracy weren't sufficient on their own to prevent backsliding because the Silver Legion and other fascists would just get rid of that if democracy messed up and put them in power.

Calamity told Masquerade as much.

"There isn't any easy answer here because if you limit democracy too much and you create a government that strictly enforces a box around political thought, you get trapped in that thought box," the thespian added. "I think we have to trust democracy even when it is flawed but put in lots of minoritarian protections and build up a culture of respecting those."

It was definitely not an easy topic to figure out, but that is why they had allies to work things out. They were Interpol officers, not political philosophers and scientists.

"Well, that is enough politicking for now. See you next month, Masquerade. You will be surprised when you see me."

"I can't wait, Calamity. We are getting Tanya, don't worry. Everyone can't wait for MI15 to reunite."

The gunslinger cut the connection with her old friend. Getting up, she joined with the team to head out for today's activities.

---

Freedom's Egg - December 5th, 1952

I skipped through my neighborhood, singing the Battle Hymn of the Legion.

"Let loose the fateful ocean of her terrible, swift flood!"

Do you have to emphasize the religious violence in that song?

'Yes!' - "Our Goddess skipping on!"

Okay…Anyways, I have been thinking, Doubt mentioned in my head.

'What else do you do?' - "Her Truth is skipping on!"

Stop being a smartass.

'Ouch.' - "I have read a violent gospel writ in burnished rows of steel! Let the Goddess of two divines crush the foreign with her heel."

She didn't respond until I stopped singing. Doubt was never any fun. She could sing along, too.

I am not apologizing. So, I have concluded that maybe growing up in Japan in my past life may have negatively impacted me.

'How so?'

Well, I grew up in a highly competitive environment where I had to ace tests that I wasn't really good at taking despite being so good at memorizing information regarding my favorite interests, Doubt explained morosely. Perfect or near-perfect test scores were not only expected, but failure also came with a lot of disappointment from my parents.

In the end, I got a very middle-of-the-road career at a corporation that drilled into my head that I should measure my value as a person in economic terms, like the business' bottom line, my headmate continued. I was raised by a father in that life who wanted me to be a breadwinner, and after the recession in Japan, that meant a lot of pressure. Perhaps, if I hadn't been raised in that culture, I would have ended up not constantly measuring my worth as a potential spouse and a person in terms of what I brought to the table financially.

'Doubt, I think you are just making excuses. Just take personal responsibility instead of pinning the blame on others for your shortcomings or society. You are an individual. Now act like it.'

I am literally attached to you. I can't really be an individual.

'Still making more excuses. Have you considered that all of this is karma?'

No…no…I didn't deserve any of this stuff happening to me. Nothing I could have done was worth what the Silver Legion made me do or witness, and I would have been killed if I deserted.

'You know, if you had just turned yourself in and provided the context for your actions, you may not have been punished as a child soldier, and no one could have arrested you in order to turn you over to the Silver Legion.'

…I hate you.

'You just hate people who are right,' I thought to my headmate.

My home was a nice mansion in a nice suburb in a place that I couldn't quite remember where in Chicago it was. There were streets and cars, but I never saw anyone drive anywhere. My neighbors were always so kind. I think I had a husband at some point, but I couldn't remember it anymore. Something happened to him.

You killed him. This is your gilded cage because you kill people when the spell keeping me sealed flickers.

Doubt was silly. If I didn't think about things, then I didn't kill anyone. It was all a matter of perception.

Instead of listening to her anymore, I took an interest in the new neighbors I hadn't seen before. My Faith senses noticed they simply adored me, so they couldn't be spies or assassins sent by the communists to kill me.

One of these new neighbors really respected me a lot. He had a plain face but striking green eyes. The other one was scared of me but meant no harm to me. She was really…healthy.

"Hello, neighbors!" I called, waving with my hands and six wings. "I always like meeting new people."

"T— Goddess!" the man replied. They stopped unpacking their boxes and knelt before me.

"Blessed be those who love me."

"Blessed be us."

"I was thinking: Would you like to join me for dinner? I have yellow-tailed tuna."

"Yes, Goddess, we would love to," the woman with a green dress replied quickly.

Doubt was excited in the back of my head, but she kept her mouth shut for once.

I brought them back to my home and went into the wife's box (kitchen) before getting to work. We talked about all the standard topics: plans for children, sports, the upcoming election, lawn maintenance, and cooking techniques. The man let it slip that he cooked. Why would a man cook?

The wife, Jane Smith, came into the kitchen to help me. It was a bit difficult maneuvering around the room with all my wings. She then pulled out a weird computation orb that looked like a compact.

"Hey, you have something on your face?" Jane stated, presenting the computation orb to me. It bizarrely had a mirror inside. I knew it was a magetech device because I had…a lot of knowledge about such things for some reason. Why a woman needed to know anything other than killing communists, housework, or raising children was beyond me, but somehow I knew it.

Look at the mirror.

Well, I didn't want something on my face, and the woman had no ill intentions. I looked at the mirror, and the image of me surprised me a bit. For some reason, I did not recognize myself when I looked at my reflection.

Like it isn't you.

Exactly!

Then, I felt a weird pulse of magic, and my reflection disappeared.

Oh gosh, finally.

"Tanya, are you there?"

How do I use my mouth again?

"Don't worry. Masquerade is putting a false feed on what we are doing here. Just keep it down so your prison guards next door don't overhear us."

"Oh thank, oh thank you," I finally got out after remembering how to use my own body. "Jane, I think I love you."

"Sorry, but I am monogamous," she replied. "How are you feeling, though?"

"Like I was made into a capitalist nazi for two years."

"I don't know what a Nazi is."

"Think racial hierarchy, world domination, and genocidal."

"So, a typical European imperialist?"

"Uhh…and elimination of democratic norms and trying to bring back the glory days."

"So Napoleon."

"Far, far more genocidal, nationalist, and racist like the Silver Legion."

"You could have just said Legionist."

While it was haunting how many seeds of fascism existed in Europa in this time period, I was about to scream for lots of reasons. "Jane, would you please fetch me a pillow? Now!"

I held in my rage the best I could. It took everything I had not to smash everything around me. The last time I felt anything like this, I was punching a wall in some mansion in the Republic because we let the Republican army get away and prolong the war.

At my current power level, I could destroy half of Chicago if I didn't manage my rage. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise — being this powerful is an absolute curse. How was I supposed to have a normal life at all with six wings and having to make sure my temper (which I was rarely aware of) was in check? The Aztecs probably want to flay me alive for what Vicky did. Everyone in America probably wanted me dead. Why did I always get forced into situations that made me the most hated person in the entire world?

Jane Smith Forger handed me a pillow. I pressed it to my face and let out muffled screams as Jane gave me a much-needed hug. My rage barely stayed contained. So much potential for collateral damage lay in my divinely altered form. Unlike Matheus, I remembered everything the Victoria Truman personality had done pretending to be White Silver.

"Do you know what it feels to have people do genocides in your name?" I fumed. Technically, it was in Vicky's name and form, but my mana signature was the same.

"I think a lot of people know how that feels."

"Not helping, Jane. I experienced them first hand."

"If everyone did, perhaps we would have—"

"Jane, stop."

Her bedside manner was absolutely terrible.

"What do we do next?" I inquired after calming down.

"You need to meet with Sonnetto, and hopefully, giving her mana will restore her—"

"Dammit! If she doesn't come back when I give her mana again, I don't know what I will do."

"Shhh, you are being too loud. We can't possibly know how you feel. When it comes to it, we need you to be able to handle this situation carefully. The United Front and Interpol will be coming in to handle arrests and transition to the post-Legion government after the fascists are ousted from office. Then, the ICC and the League of Nations will handle the rest. You just have to get the Silver Legionists to surrender and be there for Sonnetto."

I missed Sonnetto so much that every cell in this body of mine cried out for her. I couldn't shake off the divinity of faith…no…it wasn't faith…it was Purpose. I wouldn't let Being X define what my power was anymore. As my Unknown Self powers and the Type-95 became one, I made them both my own. I decided what they meant. My new power Purpose was the duality between solidarity and individuality, and it connected me with my allies in a very visceral way as I felt where they were and could suddenly distribute power between us like a circuit.

Jane and Masquerade wondered what was happening; I didn't know much about it. It just happened. The Faith divinity from the Type-95 had consolidated all of its power drawn from the cultists into Victoria. This Purpose divinity kind of did the opposite. While I was quite powerful individually, this would make my allies powerful as well, and it would allow me to offload some unnecessarily excessive amounts of power on people I trusted.

I am going to need a lot more friends if I am going to feel anywhere near normal again. I don't want to kill people by accident. I want a nice, pleasant, normal life with my love.

I also discovered that I could change my appearance between my various personas at will. I could become the young Tanya von Degurechaff, the adult Tanya von Weiss, Agent Nichts, White Silver (my golden angelic form), and my soul form with the magically wavy hair and the markings under my eyes that sort of made me look like I was always crying. I couldn't go back to my Salaryman form, but I didn't want to be him for various reasons. I could transform into what I imagined a female version of the salaryman, though.

My powers were weird but useful. What did Demiguichi say about a wave that would wash away the edifice of oppression? Well, the Silver Legion best be prepared for a very angry Tanya. I would still be professional about it, being the quintessential Interpol officer. Still, there were a lot of Legionist mages that I would have Clearance A authorization to apprehend if they didn't surrender.

Sonnetto, I am coming. One day more until revolution; tomorrow we'll be reunited! Please, please, don't be lost forever.

---

Lorelei's Note:
Would you guys like a music list related to this chapter? I drew a lot of inspiration from revolutionary, civil rights, and workers' rights songs. I must say it is a lot of fun.

Betareading: Pinklestia101


Citations

1. Based on the 1991 Soviet Union Referendum. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_Soviet_Union_referendum
2. Yes, National Lead did advertise this even though lead poisoning is one of the oldest known forms of poisoning, and lead paint and other products were banned in several countries. The information about lead poisoning was suppressed in the US. https://www.nlm.nih.gov/exhibition/thisleadiskillingus/collection-detail.html?imgid=15&imgName=OB12578-md
3. Morey, Lindsey. "Blood For Bananas: United Fruit's Central American Empire." Washington University. https://history.wsu.edu/rci/sample-research-project/
4. See Red Guard Party on wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Guard_Party
5. See 1954 Guatemalan coup d'etat on wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1954_Guatemalan_coup_d%27%C3%A9tat
6. See Operation Condor on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Condor
7. See Brown Berets on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_Berets#
8. De Figueiredo, John M.; Silverman, Brian S. Silverman. Academic Earmarks and the Returns to Lobbying. NBER Working Paper No. 9064 July 2002. JEL No. K0, H1 <https://www.nber.org/system/files/working_papers/w9064/w9064.pdf>
9. Dunayevskaya, Raya. Marxism and Freedom: From 1776 to Today. Raya Dunayevskaya Memorial Foundation. published 2000.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Last Time in Mages of Interpol 15: Tanya was captured by the Silver Legion and hypnotized to do horrible things. Now, she is free, and her time of vengeance is nearly upon her.

Content Warning: The Silver Legion is super prejudiced. Expect sexism, racism, homophobia, and more.

Disclaimer: This chapter is about alt-history of the interwar period. Defeating fascists and revolution plays a major role in this chapter.

Lorelei's Note: We have over 300 pages published since the first chapter was posted on July 20th, 2024. Seeing that I started with 75 pages pre-written, that is quite a pace to finish a book-length story. I hope you enjoy the finale of the first volume.

Also, remember the characters are characters, not me.

---

Sugar House Prison, Unified States - 15th November, 1915

37 years ago

Ramona Mercer blinked back tears as the cold stung her cheeks. She was just sixteen but had already experienced hard labor and had taken a man's life. Still, the coldness from her past and from the fall day had nothing on the coldness before her.

"You don't have to watch this," Amber Canary stated with a warmness that painted over the tragedy.

The child-like elder had taken Ramona in after her parents had died from the diseases of despair and the coldness of winter. They had long given up life by the time Ramona had been taken into the boarding schools to be de-Indianed. Several of her fellow kids died from exposure as the dorms had been completed before they got taken from their parents, and it was those same kids who were expected to finish building those on behalf of the school. They were being trained to be useful workers, after all.

Ramona had survived due to the blessing of magic that kept her body warm as the snow took others' lives. She had been spared from the forced sterilizations the other women received due to her blessings, as others had their futures decided for them.

The winter paints the world in white ubiquity. 'Isn't the winter so pretty?' Arthur Pelley says, as the season takes and takes and leaves the world without color. But one day, this winter shall pass. Underneath that snow, we wait for a moment to emerge and bring spring and life back to the world.

She didn't see the Canaries as family. Amber was still a good friend. They taught each other about their families and traditions.

"I need to see this," the teenager replied with steel-like determination.

The police kept the gathered crowd back as they prepared to execute Joe Hill. Pulitzer's sensationalist journalists crowded up front, blocking the view for most of the people there in solidarity with the victim of injustice. Governor Arthur Pelley of the Silver Legion party gave a speech about how supposed Mr. Hill had killed a police officer and a son in a grocery store. Ramona knew that wasn't true, but he was the scapegoat.

In the socialist newspaper Appeal to Reason, they explained that the Silver Legion "thought that Joe Hill was a friendless tramp, a Nord, and worst of all, a Wobblie, so he had no right to live anyway. It was his duty to be the scapegoat." Wobblies were worker activists in the IWW, and Mr. Hill definitely had friends with the anarchists who fought the cruelty of the system around them with any means at their disposal.

"Any last words?" Governor Pelley, who was also the president of the Silver Oil Company, inquired of his victim as the firing squad loaded their rifles in their box. "Your silence during the trial condemned you enough. Nothing you say now will matter."

The activist wasn't going to waste a chance to spread the word of his cause. "Everyone, don't mourn me. Organize. You have to organize."

The stupid governor did not know how wrong he was. Mr. Hill's silence had saved Ramona and her friends from the same fate, and his words now would plant the seeds for when spring came.

Pelley had Hill blindfolded and restrained to a chair before getting out of the way. Journalists took copious photos. His fellow activists knew to keep their voices down. If they agitated, they might end up just like Hill — a martyr he might be, but that was two fewer hands to build the movement.

The firing squad in their blacksmith shop hesitated despite getting the order to shoot.

"Fire—go on and fire!" Joe Hill roared angrily, urging them to confront the cruelty the soldiers knew they were doing.

Helen Keller, U.S. President Wilson, and the Norden Embassy had all decried the sham trial and the coming execution. Arthur Pelley and his judges did not listen to any authority other than their own.

The firing squad died. Ramona learned that real power came from the end of the gun — not words, not elected officials, and certainly not pleas for morality. That day, the governor found dynamite on his driveway. They suspected it had been the IWW and the anarchists. They did not know it had been Ramona. She had wrapped the dynamite in a paper in the same color as Arthur Pelley's concrete. The police defused it, and the evilest man in the world went to bed in his warm white and silver sheets while the wobblies took Mr. Hill's ashes out of state so that he might be laid to rest away outside the borders the Silver Legion controlled.

The Canary's didn't know it had been her. Amber might have understood. Mary certainly wouldn't and would have kicked out the girl rather than have her bring trouble to her house and her family.

"Let's go home," Amber suggested, keeping her words few lest she say something she shouldn't.

As they walked home together, the old war vet told Ramona fanciful stories. She didn't care for fairytales anymore. Reality had made her grow up fast, and it was that she needed to live in reality.

---

Rural Midwestern Unified States - 5th of December, 1952


Ramona Mercer carefully carved and imbued her ammunition with enchantments as the snow fell around her. She despised the snow.

If she had anything to be happy about, it was that she took Joe Hill's words to heart, and it paid off. Lashing out blindly was not good enough. She needed to be precise and surgical in her action, but the organs of revolution also required to be gathered.

"You really think the Old Federation was better than the Federation after the Second Revolution?" Damien commented, aghast at Ramona.

Damien had joined the ranks of the Revolutionary Army from the Students Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), which had increasingly adopted the 'Brotsky Insurgency Process' praxis. Ramona didn't know much about the young activist besides that he had clearly dropped the nonviolent part now that revolution was upon them.

To be fair, Damien didn't know much about her. What she did know was that his anti-authoritarian, grassroots stuff didn't appeal to her as much as the reliance on more seasoned leadership under the Marksist-Levinist vanguard style to get a movement past the finish line. Urban civic revolutionaries like Damien might be able to bring out the numbers, but they are far too fractious and intolerant of nationalism and the Bolshevization of their ranks.

"Yes, I think was the greatest leader the Federation ever had," the mage calmly replied as she etched the next part of the glyph. "You shouldn't compare what they had back then to any romantic conception of a perfect government you have in your head. We don't live in a fairyland. Instead, compare to what came before. It was leagues better than the tsarist regime. We gave people new rights, freedoms, and opportunities they never had before."

During the war, when the then-adult Ramona was conscripted like all poor mages, the woman learned of the Old Federation from fighting beside them. She knew how they had overthrown their tyrants and then proceeded to defeat everyone who dared to invade their new country. Not only had they done it, but they had a detailed blueprint that anyone who wanted to be free to expel the tyrants in their land and set up a government for the people. More importantly, it worked. Countless subjugated people could use the Marksist-Levinist praxis to be free finally. No more starving, no more Arthur Pelleys. It wouldn't be a fairytale, but it would be a land for their people that could survive the evil imperialists in America and Europa.

"What about the purges?" the man pressed her.

"'What about the purges?' The Western media overblows them completely and conflates all the things going on together. Many people didn't get sentenced. If anything, Dzhugashvili didn't kill enough opportunists, imperialists, and revisionists. If he had, the Second Revolution would never have happened. That coup only sowed confusion and division within the Federation. These new parties represent different class interests, undoing years of Comrade Joseph Dzhugashvili and Comrade Vladimir Levin's hard work."

"I have met a person who fled the Old Federation," Damien claimed with a dumbfounded expression as if he were talking to a person from another reality. "He told me how horrible it was."

"Probably imperialist scum," the woman scoffed. "The West loves inviting the poor fascists and imperialists over and giving them a platform to advocate for how awful it was that we were mean to them. Of course, we were harsh on them. Imperialists rape, pillage, and kill. Have you heard of the pogroms?"

"Yes, I have, but the person I met was a baker," Damien countered. "He wasn't some rich capitalist. He supported the party. Still, he saw how bad it was getting. Joseph Dzhugashvili disbanded the women's councils, banned abortion and divorce, threw homosexual men and women into labor camps and asylums, and ended gender-affirming surgeries for trans people. He undid so much progress that had occurred under Vladimir Levin and Leon Brotsky. If Joseph Dzhugashvili hadn't taken power, my friend claimed it wouldn't have devolved into the power-hungry, self-glorifying cult of personality it became. We don't need White Silvers in proletariat drag."

Ramona picked up the brass cartridge and blew on it to let the metal cool and the ink of her enchantment dry. Enchanting ammunition was based on traditional arcane knowledge. The robber barons in the Unified States had taken the previously unpatented traditional arcane knowledge, claimed it as their own, and then sent their armies to conquer her homeland with factory-made enchanted ammunition.

Ramona had actually taught the old ways of enchanting ammunition to the settler Amber "Calamity" Canary. Her former student believed in the tenets of liberation theology despite being a secular cultural Heartist, and they had seen each other as comrades when fighting imperialists during the Great War.

As for dealing with her current interlocutor, there were limits to how much debating she would do. She imagined how she felt now, which was how Joseph Dzhugashvili felt when dealing with Leon Brotsky back in the day. There is a lot of criticism and not a lot of effective leadership.

As Ramona understood it, real power came at the end of a gun. People in the real world needed to accept that to have a lasting legacy — that is, a revolution that succeeded in its ambition and survived against the onslaught of capitalist invaders and spycraft, you were going to have to use that gun. To put it another way, Death was ugly, and power frightened people. To lead, you had to have a foot in both death and power, which gave people like her interlocutor plenty of ammunition to play the morally superior opposition.

It was time to turn things around instead of being on the receiving end.

"What do you believe in, Damien?" Romona inquired, getting back to the painstaking work of making enchanted ammunition by hand.

"I am definitely not Orthodox. I am up with the World Federationist camp with the others who see themselves as left communist and fans of Brotsky's administration."

Typical World Federationist. They want all the ideas and interests at the table even when they are directly opposed to one another. Their lack of consistency and clarity makes them weak under pressure.

Convincing these more progressive types with fiery, youthful idealism and opinions born of encountering new ideas for the first time was not the veteran's strong suit. They had just shucked off the authority of their parents and bought Brotsky's bottom-up grassroots theory of permanent revolution. They, at most, could get a concession from the powerful through such tactics. Without the necessary evil of the top-down Orthodox approach, they will never be in charge of anything. They even rejected Martin Bishop of the Southern Universalist Leadership Conference for being too authoritarian and emphasizing singular charismatic leadership. As Ramona saw it, people like Damien were so anti-establishment that they were allergic to having any meaningful power at all.

Ramona took a deep breath and figured out how best to levy her criticisms of the other side of the Orthodox-Worldist divide tactically.

"You know why we call it left communism? Because they left communism." She started giving a weak chuckle at the cliche joke before getting serious again.

"As for Brotsky, he is not as bad as his followers," she continued before a steely edge entered her voice. "No group supposedly inside worker's cause has done more harm to the revolution than the Brotskyists. They spend so much time criticizing successful revolutions and very little time actually advocating for them. Imperialists love hiring them because Brotskists are a useful tool to dissuade revolutionaries from Marksist-Levinism, the praxis that actually works to liberate people in the real world. When the Brotskyists have a successful revolution against people who aren't other Marksists, then I will take them seriously."

They sat there for a moment in silence. To his credit, the World Federationists didn't go on and on about how Brotskyists just need a chance to prove themselves capable of change.

Some people in the distance started singing some of Odyssia Ono's famous socialist song This Land is Your Land, which loudly proclaimed the land and its beauty belonged to one and all. To Ramona, the song offensively erased how all these 'immigrants' came to be on this land and who was there before. IWW people would sing this song and Same Boat Now, which asked black people to put aside the forced relocation of African people to North America to focus on worker solidarity. The World Federationists loved these songs. The Orthodox factions, not so much.

"What are your thoughts about nationalism, Damien?" she inquired.

"That it leads to war and exists to divide people and keep labor trapped like serfs on a piece of land."

He wasn't wrong in some regards. Sweatshop countries and unequal exchange definitely made policing borders important to capitalists to keep cheap labor where they wanted it to be.

"Do you want to know what a nation means to me?" she inquired.

He shook his head. It was a rhetorical question anyway. Damien didn't know her perspective at all.

"Freedom," she began with a bit of fire entering her voice. "Dignity. Control over your destiny. The ability to stand tall. The ability to have your own language and culture. To have people who are like you and understand you to be in charge and make decisions that respect you and your family."

"You want an ethnostate?" the man blinked when he connected the dots behind the words. "That is what the Destiny Manifest was about."

"That was not what the Destiny Manifest was about. That was the opposite of what I wanted. That is a group of people who think no one else matters but them, and so they get to take and take and take and then kill and kick out all the people they find there."

"But you want to kick people out of places."

"Damien, people have tried to live side-by-side with the colonizers for decades. It ain't getting better. The Black Liberation Movement gets this. The Brown Berets know this. The American Indian Movement knows this. Before you criticize it, look around the entire globe. How do you get freedom from oppressors?"

"Revolution, of course, but—"

"No, revolution is just a result. It is nationalism and class solidarity. In order to have solidarity, you have to circle your culture and your common conditions. If you don't, you will crumble. Most successful revolutions are an alloy of nationalism and working-class struggle. What you are going to find is that colonial liberals at the centrist edge of your faction, who are only here strategically to oust Yockey, will take power and then send the Silver Legion armies under them on all of us. They don't want what we want. They want to bring back their preferred liberal democratic order where they are at the top, and we are at the bottom, being snuffed out quietly."

Damien rubbed his forehead. Most of the people in the SNCC knew that compromising with moderates was a recipe for being backstabbed. It was why the Popular Front didn't work. It was why Brotsky pushed for the United Front. However, just like the Commonwealth had joined up when they were threatened by the Silver Legion, a bunch of liberals in America had joined up in the revolution because the current Legionist administration did not serve their interests.

The man couldn't contradict her on reality history had made clear over and over. She might look younger than she was due to being a war mage, but her voice carried experience and study in its texture.

"Ramona, may I ask if there anything good you can say about the Reformed Federation and the Brotsky administration?" the man wondered, referring to the very much internationalist revolutionary core of communism in the modern world.

"Yes, Brotsky didn't sign the Defensive Pact with the Unified States," the mage soldier replied evenly. "It would have given him an opening to invade Europa and helped the poor people there communize; however, no one should trust fascists. Just like the Silver Legion planned to do with the Commonwealth, they would have done to the Federation."

"Is there any criticism of the Old Federation that you won't immediately respond with 'Western propaganda', 'traitors', or 'it was necessary at the time'?" the idealist inquired. "There seems to be no room for you to be wrong anywhere with all of these canned responses."

"That is because I don't have time to go over all the literature and history with you."

"I have read history from communists during this period. A lot of people in the World Congress despise the Old Federation."

"Many of those are not proper dialecticians but revisionists, opportunists, idealists, and people who would rather argue than get things done. By changing things that shouldn't be changed in order to just distance themselves from the Old Federation like this, they move off the path to communism and undermine their own revolutions like you World Federationists."

"Do you accept any criticisms?!" the man cried.

"Of course, we make mistakes. Who doesn't?"

She shook her head in exasperation and continued to enchant her ammo.

"Look at what Dzhugashvili accomplished," Ramond continued after a few moments. "People were pulled out of their backward poverty, where they were using wooden hoes, into being more literate, better educated, and better fed than even the richest capitalist nations. The entirety of the Imperial core in Europa fears the Federation due to all of Dzhugashvili's accomplishments as its great leader. Capitalists want to contain us because they know Marksist-Levinist administrations are so effective at creating superpowers out of even once agrarian economies. They are already afraid of what Zhangzi will become. Marxist-Levinists have done more in decades than what capitalist countries can only do after centuries of imperialism, taking advantage of millions of people and their resources in Afrika, South and Central America, and Asia. People have doctors for the first time. People are learning to read when their colonial masters wouldn't let them and in their own language. Marksist-Levinism helps people stand tall."

"But it also creates cults of personality by focusing everything on standing behind charismatic faces of the party."

"Cults of personality?! The colonial settlers have their Founding Fathers. Why can't the Old Federation have pride in its vanguard? This seems like a double—"

"No, I can't take all this Dzhugashvili apologetics anymore." Damien got up and claimed the last word in the showy way, in Ramona's opinion, that idealists love having. "I have talked to fundies with more open minds than you. I just can't see you as anything other than the fascist version of a communist."

You are the one without an open mind, the gunner thought privately. There was no point in debating with fools. That was why she had her gun when push became shove.

To be fair, Ramona was a hard-liner. She turned off many other Marksist-Levinists, especially the more democratic and internationalist ones, but she did not care. Half-measures were not enough. Calls to be polite and sit on one's hands as colonists and capitalists raped, pillaged, and did atrocity after atrocity would no longer persuade her or her vanguard of fellow hard-liners. Dzhugashvili was a hero to everyone who wanted their own country in a world full of monsters who tore people apart for profit and their countless complicit lackeys who moralized about being patient and jumping through the electoral hoops that the monsters had rigged.

Damn anyone who thought I should ask politely to be free as my brothers and sisters die. They can die a hundred times over for their disgusting, pearl-clutching rhetoric. It is so easy to tell others to be gentle when one isn't the one suffering.

After painstaking work to reach perfection, the fruits of Ramona's hard labor lay before her — three bullets. Each promised certain death for an enemy of the revolution. Freed from the toil, she made sure to get some leisure time with her friends by joining them in some fun before they headed out. Everyone deserves time to enjoy life.

Not much later, word spread that they needed to move to the suburban town of Autumn's Meadow to counter the Legion's Horde of non-mage zealots. While they were a threat to the revolution, more significant threats were her aim. Ramona knew she was not throwing away her shot.

---

Silver House Lawn in Chicago, Unified States - 5th of December, 1952


President Yockey stood in the recording booth with his mages, carefully patrolling the vicinity. A magetech engineer gave him the thumbs-up when they were rolling.

"My fellow Americans, this is your President, Francis Yockey, here for a very important Pyre-side chat.

"As you know, the lying press has slandered me and your fellow Real Americans terribly. As you all know, you can only trust me and the Pulitzer News Network for all your information, for only we are truthful and accurate. We have all the answers, and only I can bring our country out of humiliation into greatness. It will be just like it used to be in that glorious past that we all remember when everything was better. Back when men were men and women were women, the races never mixed, and women couldn't vote. You all know that democracy has failed us by causing the subversion of our culture and the mixing of peoples that should not be mixed. That is why we need to place our trust in the Silver Legion."

He took a moment to take a sip of soda before continuing.

"I am telling you that everything boils down to us versus them, truth versus lies. Close your ears to the lying press, the coastal elites, and the foreign infiltrators who tell you horrible falsehoods like that what you are doing is wrong. They wish to make you hate your country and tempt you off the Silver path, but Real Americans like us stay on that path and push past all doubts. White Silver imbues us with truth and honesty. We Real Americans live in reality and follow first principles.

"Now, listen to me and only me, for we are at a turning point in history where we must revitalize our culture again with Old Faith spirit. We need to burn out all the recent immoral developments in literature, in the theater, and in the press — in short, we must burn out the poison of immorality, which has entered into our whole life and culture as a result of liberal excess."

The President then went on and on about each marginalized group that was the 'real threat' to America and had really 'impoverished' his base. Francis Yockey celebrated how he had continued Arthur Pelley's 'Aztec Repatriation' program from the late 1930s with his new initiative called 'Operation Kickback'. (1) Just like Pelley's, his initiative had moved over a million Aztec-looking people out of the country, (1) freeing up valuable real estate for Yockey's eager friends. The colonists had conquered the American Southwest fair and square over a century ago. That meant they got to do whatever they wanted with those animals, especially now that the agribusiness didn't need many of them anymore.

The great about Operation Kickback and the mass incarnation initiative was that they put the inferior beings in places where they wouldn't be organizing for welfare or revolution.

As for religion, Yockey honestly disliked the Old Faith for its ever-present themes of hierarchy inversion, where the poor were blessed and not the rich, as well as the idea that voluntary poverty was a good thing. Yockey, however, could fake it. He needed to employ such theater to manipulate the ethnonationalists and religious nationalists in the Silver Legion's base into focusing their efforts on whatever the monopolists also wanted.

For example, business nationalists hated unions. Public schools were rife with unions. ethnonationalists hated how public schools mixed people, and religious nationalists hated them for their institutional secularism. Ending public schooling made them all happy because it would get rid of the union and create a system where the now exclusively for-profit schools could choose their students under whatever criteria they wanted, just like employers do when hiring people. Goodbye education for pesky minorities who would become much more manageable workers if they couldn't read or write.

Really, only a few people actually needed to think in society. The moment they got a machine that could replace all the workers, Yockey would happily get rid of all of the parasites known as the working class and kick them out of his country.

Finding common denominators to unify the ruling coalition under a monopolist-benefiting ideology had been Yockey's life work, and it had proven immensely profitable. As long as the other groups got what they wanted (a monocultural theocracy), the monopolists could do away with democratic norms and rule as they saw fit. The White Silver Creed of absolute private property rights had stealthily been made a foundational part of the Swordist faith and the new post-war American monoculture. Now, to believe in anything other than monopolist rule was to be demonic and un-American.

After his speech was done and the people sent out to wreak havoc on inferior beings, Yockey left the Silver House in Chicago and boarded a flight to Wien, Germania. This would mean that Emperor Cassander and Empress Roxanne would just have to meet with the Goddess alone, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Richard Diamond didn't trust things were safe. Yockey, following his friend's lead, would abandon the ship as well.

It would look bad, and stock in the Unified States would plummet if their leader indicated he didn't trust the country was a going concern. President Yockey still trusted that the Goddess would kill the revolutionaries, but he also trusted that the United Front would have an assassin after him. He wouldn't end up like George Lundeen did during the Great War.

---

Freedom's Egg somewhere in Chicago, Unified States - 5th of December, 1952


I watched the snow as it fell outside the window of my little house, which was made of ticky tacky. Soon, the fake neighborhood would be painted in white ubiquity. In my bones, I could feel the change was coming to America, and so was the snow. I hoped the revolutionaries dressed warmly.

Despite all my worries and rage, I somehow found the ability to laugh in the moment of calm I had before the show started, and I could leave my gilded cage. The banter of my friends did my old soul good.

"But I want to live in society!" Laurence "Masquerade" Drake cried in mock frustration.

"No more society!" Polyxena Mironova declared dramatically with a raised fist. "Return to monkey!"

The two had a great dynamic together, and their antics were the medicine I needed to distract myself from my pain as well as feel somewhat normal again — wings and all. It was good to find out Polyxena's real name now. Apparently, she and Masquerade had gotten past a lot of their relationship struggles over the years after Polyxena ended her partnership with the Albish Secret Service. They would have to live in a country that didn't ally with the Commonwealth, but that wasn't too hard. Polyxena had even let me know that the couple planned to have a child after they settled somewhere. As for the fate of MI15, it was one step at a time before any big decisions were made.

I wanted to have a child, too. I wasn't sure if it was the hormones in my body, instinct, or what, but every time when my friends and loved ones had a child, the desire would swirl through my being. Settling down with Sonnetto had been my plan, but one didn't make decisions unilaterally in a relationship. I wonder if my love still wanted to work in MI15. I certainly did. Maybe we could convince Matheus to join, too.

Back to the subject of having a child, this life had left me severely traumatized. I didn't know if I could handle the responsibilities of being a good mother. How does someone have as much pain in them as me and not become such a dysregulated individual? I had intense minority stress that plagued the back of my mind constantly. My mind generated paranoid fantasies of every possible sneer and ostracism if word spread of my various peculiarities. After several decades of hiding behind a mask of conformity in my first life as a 'salaryman' and this life as a 'perfect officer', nothing terrified me more than being without its safety. Only in Berun had I ever lived even the slightest bit openly, and everywhere else was hypervigilance for every potential belligerent bigot or vengeful veteran.

I really have way too many enemies. Is this what life on hard mode feels like?

"Tanya," Polyxena stated, getting me out of my thoughts. "Do you want to know about how Borislava, Laurie, and I applied to become your new neighbors?"

'Laurie' was what the assassin affectionately dubbed Masquerade. The man embraced the name with his typical passion for artistic subversion. Didn't he know that by subverting expectations, all he did was reinforce them? Regardless, whatever made the man happy was none of the business within reason.

I nodded to Polyxena's question, not trusting to speak right now lest I say something I regret. Irrational behavior from the extremes of emotions, and I had a long and troubled history. It had pushed me in front of a train and caused me to run right into a trap that put me in this silver cage of supposed suburban splendor.

"So we three former spies posed as professional actors," the assassin began her story.

"I am a professional actor," Masquerade interjected.

"Yes, you are, dear. You are very accomplished!"

"Okay, I am awfully sorry. I should not have not interrupted like that."

"You are forgiven," Polyxena placated. "I love you." Kiss

Turning to me, she continued. "So Borislava and I had to play being the wife. Obviously, there were no single women in your neighborhood, given the artificial culture of Freedom's Egg. Before you ask, yes, it was a bit of a challenge dealing with Borislava. She is just so damn competitive."

"I had to play the husband," Masquerade commented. "It was rather awkward having to perform matrimonial bliss with Borislava."

"Why was that?" I inquired in confusion. He clearly would have had to pair with several actresses.

"For starters, she is my girlfriend's ex," he admitted.

"Okay, I can see that causing some tension," I replied with a shake of my head. I knew the politics of relationships well now.

"She also tried to kill me during the Museum heist case," the thespian added with exaggerated nonchalance.

A peel of laughter leaped from my mouth.

"Well, we patched things up now," Polyxena commented with a surprising amount of grace for someone whose significant other had almost died. "She didn't know Tanechka was using the Angels in that highly performative heist to make my cover as a free agent working for the Albish Secret Service more believable. Spycraft requires a level of deceit even within our own ranks. Borislava understands this, and we are all friends again despite our strongly held political differences."

"I swear she still holds a grudge," the Albish man confessed, pulling at his ascot. The couple were the absolute image of American yuppies.

"Like I said, she is just competitive," the woman repeated calmly. "None of those hijinks during the auditions were because my ex was out to get you. As for the other competitors, she very much was making sure they didn't win."

"Well, luckily, you and I won in the end."

"I killed it on stage," Polyxena bragged, puffing out her chest.

"You definitely slay, dear."

"Literally," I added in a weak attempt at humor, which was not my strong suit. My imagination told me that Polyxena's dark humor didn't put off the Silver Legionists as much as did other people.

"Speaking of people who wanted to kill you, dear," the assassin added. "Can I tell Tanya the Warrick and Lundeen story?"

I had no idea who those two were without more context. I probably met individuals with those names, but they probably meant other spies.

"It is all old news now," Masquerade replied with a smile. "Go ahead. I am sure Elya won't mind."

"Elya?" I blinked in surprise. "Now I need to know. What did my friend do?"

"Well, during the war, she had infiltrated the U.S. government under the name Sally Warrick in order to discourage this country from joining the allies against Germania," Polyxena explained with a bit of smug joy. "She would get her senators and congressional staffers to read speeches she wrote for them on the congressional floor, and those speeches would then be added to the congressional record. Then, using Congress' ability to print and mail records to the public on the taxpayer dollar, Elya created a very effective and relatively cheap anti-war and pro-Germania propaganda campaign.

"You would be proud of how under-budget and efficient her influencing campaign had been. In order to pull this stunt off, your friend had subverted several staffers and legislators by settling their debts, assisting them in a time of desperation, or helping them find discrete ways to satisfy their carnal desires during the Prohibition era."

"The intelligence community calls her the Genie of Germania for a reason," Masquerade smartly added when he saw an opening. "Legend says she grants a person their deepest wish but at a terrible price."

"I know that moniker," Tanya exclaimed. "The Genie appears in cinema all the time to seduce men and their wives, trying to turn them into traitors to the Unified States. I appear as well as both the Devil of the Rhine punishing the unfaithful and as White Silver, the one who leads empires to impossible victories. Both sicken me a bit."

"Well, as for Elya, she sure felt like a devil during the war," Masquerade admitted. "We were losing the diplomacy game with the Unified States. Based on my intelligence, the allies backed the Silver Legion, who were far more jingoistic. Despite their love of Germanian culture, they saw an opportunity to pick at the remains of Europa near the end of the war like a vulture to road kill. The Empire just happened to be on its last legs and had many enemies that could become many allies to the monopolists in the Silver Legion as their party started gaining momentum in the polls and more seats in government."

"We shouldn't forget about Senator Lundeen," Polyxena mentioned. "He is key to this part of the story."

"I remember that name now!" I commented. "He was the Senator from Minnesota who was working with Germania. He died in a car accident. It was a big deal because it led to America joining the war."

Masquerade went stiff, but Polyxena kept going.

"Exactly, it worked more wonderfully than Borislava and I could have ever hoped," the assassin stated. "My ex, always the pyromaniac among the Russy spies back then, had planted a bomb in his car with the hope he would just die. He was blocking the vote for the Unified State to join the war. He kept employing anti-communist propaganda to dissuade people from working with the Old Federation and saying that both Germania and Albion were equally empires with terrible track records on human rights.

"What Borislava and I didn't expect was for a briefcase full of Elya's speeches to be in the car and to survive the explosion. Instead of having to pin the blame on Germania for the death of a Senator, everyone now knew Germania had effectively plundered the coffers of the federal government to manipulate public opinion. While the revelation had turned the public against the Reconstructionists and the Grand Old South Party, it gave the public a casus belli to rally behind. Your friend Elya blamed poor Laurie here for the stunt, but my sweetie would never do something like that. He is too nice to use such methods."

"Dear, perhaps we shouldn't—"

"Did you cause America to join the war against the Empire?" I wondered with exasperation. "The Silver Legion took power because they found out about those speeches?!"

The assassin went quiet as she realized her misstep.

"To be fair, everyone was trying to turn the Unified States to their side during the Great War," Masquerade attempted to appease her.

"Well, there was a silver lining to all of this," Polyxena added. "Because Elya fled the Unified States for her life and chased after us to the Russy Federation, your friend was in a great position to negotiate a ceasefire so that you could be rescued from Loria's dollhouse, which also led to the coup against that damned tyrannical counter-revolutionary Dzhugashvili."

"What?!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Everything about my imprisonment made a lot more horrifying sense now.

"Perhaps we should discuss something other than that, honey," the thespian commented before whispering something in Russy that I couldn't hear.

"Oh…uhhhh," Polyxena stammered. "Your bag! Wait right there."

Masquerade and I were left alone for a moment as Polyxena went back to their 'house' across the street. The man had to keep up his spell to hijack the video and audio feed from the computation orbs in the room. It was horrifying that people watched my every move. Interestingly, once my brainwashing had been broken, I apparently disappeared from the video feed. That would be a valuable ability for the infiltration mission when I got back to Mages of Interpol missions again.

Work, how I miss you so much. Life is empty without you. Only Sonnetto and my family are more important to me than you.

Masquerade pulled me into a hug with his free hand while I distracted myself from a mental breakdown by having a mental conversation with the personification of my occupation. I might need some therapy from a professional who didn't think homosexuality was a disease.

"It is all going to be fine," my acting captain promised. "We will get you out of here, and you can live with us and your family again."

"Thank you," I muttered and rubbed my eyes with his silly ascot, which he had given me in the absence of an immediately apparent better option.

Polyxena popped back soon after and plopped the white poppy duffel bag Masquerade had gifted me a couple of years ago. The bag had a bunch of familiar objects like the bosun whistle Calamity gave me, as well as my favorite novels, puzzle books, and letters from my friends and family, including Visha, to whom I really needed to talk at some point. Each object brought a bit more normalcy back to my bizarre, horrific situation. I had no idea how the assassin got it in here, but she came across as a person who knew how to do 'questionable' things easily.

"Tadaa!" the assassin exclaimed as she pulled out a grumpy cat stuffed animal that Sonnetto had made for me.

I glomped onto it. It was childish of me. I knew that, but the thought had nagged me ever since I fully fused with Sonnetto long ago that I needed to permit myself just to do things that made me happy more often. 'If one never took time in the present to be satisfied, then one might find they miss every chance,' as Sonnetto would tell me. Her words rang to my very core. How often had I missed a way out of my misery in the past because I wouldn't permit myself to take it?

Regardless, I would soon have an excellent opportunity to leave this prison and rejoin Sonnetto and take out a majority of high-ranking Silver Legionists. With a bit of misdirection, we had given the Legion the impression that I was not ready to move out yet, which let the Revolutionary Army advance. At the same time, the Silver Legion mostly sat on their asses, waiting patiently for their Goddess.

---

Autumn's Meadow, Ohio - 6th of December, 1952


Amber "Calamity" Canary held her rifle close to her chest as angry chants of the Silver Legion's Hoarding Horde (HH) echoed outside. The Silver Legion had created the HH as their non-mage paramilitary organization to do unofficially approved acts of violence on behalf of the party. The gunslinger kept her breathing steady, but depending on what happened, people could die. The house had gone quiet like the forest when a predator prowled nearby.

Demiguichi Akria and two Aztec families hid in the attic above her. The former had come to assist the revolutionaries in messaging, organizing, and logistics on behalf of Tanechka's Angels and the United Front. The families had come to the Unified States as seasonal migrant farmers before the Immigration Act set harsh quotas in order to make America more Northern European. The modern planter aristocracy depended on the cheap labor they could get out of families like theirs. The fat cats lobbied to give their workforce permanent resident status instead of having them trapped south of the border years ago. Then, automation in the agricultural industry drummed out countless farm laborers out of work.

That was where Autumn's Meadow, Ohio, came in. The town had a labor shortage for their businesses. The mayor had incentivized the now-unemployed mining and farming families to come to the town by subsidizing their move and providing temporary housing. That housing prevented them from being arrested by the Silver Legion for homelessness and crimes of desperation. Many of them also received housing vouchers that got them into permanent dwellings. The initiative came with generous support from the town's local business community. Even the governor of Ohio also supported the measure.

Unfortunately, hatred of the different and foreign reigned supreme as the Silver Legion repeatedly doubled down on their conspiracy theories and genocidal rhetoric.

"Get out here, you murderers!" one of the paramilitary raged loudly outside.

"Fang, I am not joking," Masquerade told the team. "It is like their whole White Silver ideology has roots from another world."

Calamity had entered a communication spell with the whole team sans Sonnetto, who was still in a puppet state. The homunculus needed Tanya to feed her divine mana in order to maintain her personality, and hopefully, reuniting with the Germanian war vet would solve that problem. Without the divine mana of 'freedom', Sonnetto was nothing more than a machine that resembled a person — a robot.

"Don't blame me for this!" Tanya griped. "Nothing in my old essays could have caused this blood sacrifice nonsense."

A couple of days earlier, President Yockey had claimed the Aztecs living in the Unified States were not only colluding with the rebels in the occupied Aztec Empire but snatching white kids to sacrifice to their gods. The HH had taken this conspiracy theory seriously and responded by bombing temples, demanding answers from city officials, and storming the streets in Autumn's Meadow. Schools, hospitals, and entire neighborhoods had been evacuated to protect the people from the bloodthirsty paramilitary grunts.

The Brown Berets and Calamity had volunteered to defend their communities that couldn't get out in time like the two upstairs as the HH stormed the streets. Brown Berets were mostly Chicano people who had created their own paramilitary organization to resist the violence against their communities from the legionist administration and their goons. Right now, fighting off this many HH grunts would be a death sentence for the Brown Berets, and Calamity was still very limited in what she was allowed to do as a magical Interpol officer. The hope was that the Legion wouldn't find them before reinforcements arrived.

A young woman with the signature beret on her head noticed a Legionist passerby at the window. Luckily, the Legionist hadn't seen them in their hiding spots.

"This cannot be real," Masquerade commented, completely dumbfounded. "If you had told me that this much destruction was being wrought just because the President had spread a baseless rumor about migrants doing human sacrifices, I would have told you it was all bollocks and not believed you."

"It is that they don't live in reality anymore that makes this possible," Tanya stated demurely. "Pulitzer once told Vicky that he can't even print facts anymore. The consumers of his yellow journalism won't believe it. Not only will they demand the facts be redacted and replaced with unhinged conspiracy theories, but they will declare the news outlet communist. Those 'journalists' who report the truth get torn to shreds."

'You know you live in a pre-legionist society when everything the ruling coalition believes is false,' Richard Diamond had written in his Silver-Diamond Manifesto. 'You know you live in a Legionist society when large swaths of people so strongly desire to live in unreality that they lash out at any attempt to take them out of it.'

For the Tejan Sharpshooter, what had terrified her and her family about the Hoarding Horde was that they absolutely adored the poster child of anti-unionism, Henry Phord, who plowed his immense wealth towards spreading hate and ignorance through various papers and books like The International Heartist: The World's Foremost Problem. As the title of that book suggested, central to his ideology was that Heartists and international institutions were the source of everything evil in the world. His conspiracy theories had also gained significant ground in Germania. (2)
While the rest of MI15 chatted, Calamity had to stay quiet because a single noise could alert the Legionists right outside, she feared. Her teammates knew that. The gunslinger would just cut the spell and stop listening to them if action broke out. For now, listening to them kept her nerves in check.

Then came the loud thumping at the door as the Legionists tried to break inside. They had erected a barricade. Had a mage been knocking at the door, then they would have already broken through.

"We know you filthy monsters are inside," the Silver Legion grunt shouted without a hint of irony.

You know you live in a Legionist society when the weakest and least capable of defending themselves are declared to be the most dangerous and evil. In contrast, those who are actually the most powerful and evil are sanctified.

"Captain M, they are not mages." Calamity reported as she moved. "What is my clearance?".

Masquerade kept hesitating despite all the progress he had made. The gunslinger only practically had access to lethal force. The post-Great-War consensus had been that mages were not allowed to use violence against non-mages unless permitted by the proper authorities. The pacifism-inclined thespian who became an illusionist for a reason had to make a decision fast.

Then came the sound of someone climbing a ladder.

"They are going for the attic window!" Calamity shouted and started hustling to the place where the vulnerable civilians hid.

She pulled down the attic door.

"Down now!" she commanded. "M, what is my clearance? Now, please!"

"C Clearance."

"So, you are asking me to tussle with Legionists with bare fists?"

Calamity couldn't use most spells modern mages could use and had severely limited options. She specialized in taking down mages, not non-mages.

Then, a tremendous amount of mana flowed into her, and the sclera of her eyes went black.

'I don't know what I am doing, but I hope this helps, Officer Calamity.'

That thought sounded like Calamity's own, but it couldn't have been.

'It's me, Tanya.'

'Ta~~mity?'

Calamity Tamantha held her head as markings appeared all over her skin, granting her access to a whole host of new spells she usually didn't have.

So much information flowed into the body that used to belong to Calamity alone. Tamantha now understood how pension plans and corporate sub-ledgers worked, or one could say she now knew how to make a Colt .45 shoot three times in quick succession. The fusion of Tanya and Calamity's minds had been a complete accident based on the former's memories. The Germanian war vet had wanted just to send some of her power through her Purpose divinity connection with Calamity but had overshot it and somehow combined them into one individual.

There was no time to think about the countless existential questions running through this fusion's mind. Newly empowered, Tamantha took point. She hoped that she could at least be a bullet sponge for the non-mages at her flank who would have to do the likely necessary lethal violence she legally couldn't do even for self-defense under her current clearance.

Now I see-sawed into being too darn powerful.

"Tanya just disappeared!"

"She fused with her…me, long story. Explain later, boss."

The fused mage climbed the stairs after all the civies got downstairs. When Tamantha got up there, she saw Akira defending herself the best she could with her pacifistic martial arts called Aikido. The revolutionary used her martial techniques to redirect her opponents' attacks to neutralize the force. While it did not harm the murderous HH, it bought time for the families to escape.

Tamantha summoned a bubble with Tanya's new water magic around herself and the two armed paramilitary volunteers. They took out intruders as they filed through the window, but the Brown Berets got caught reloading simultaneously when one man timed his entrance into the building accordingly.

"Surrender or the Zhangzi rat gets it," the HH officer screamed as he jumped through the window and pulled out his gun to shoot Akira. The volunteer forces didn't have time to react. The man might have been an idiot to enter the building when a forcefield protected the Berets, but he was committed to killing at least the Angel.

Bang!

Tamantha had quickly drawn her pistol and shot him before he could even react. It was a precarious maneuver, but with Calamity's knowledge and Tanya's acceleration spell, it was possible to pull off.

"Calamity, you didn't…."

"I did what I had to. Please trust me on this, sir."

Separately, neither half of Tamantha would have made the shot. Tanya was too afraid of potentially taking career-ending actions, and Calamity would not hesitate with a hostage present. Together, Tamantha could take that shot by overcoming the impediment to action contained in each half of themselves.

"Akira, you look like your lunch is on the way out. You gonna be okay?"

"I will be fine, Ms. Calamity. Just shaken."

The Angel was a hyper empath with misophonia. In combat, she was a liability because not only did violence result in her vicariously feeling pain acutely, but loud noises caused her sensory overload.

Tamantha kicked the ladder down before more of the Hoarding Horde could climb up.

"What are we gonna do, Akira? This location is compromised."

Tamantha also didn't want to get used to killing non-mages. That included this Legion horde stuck in a delusion in which they saw themselves as the real victims and marginal groups as somehow the evil orchestraters of this horror show. The horde sadly exemplified how Legionism hurt everyone and twisted them into an Us versus Them struggle. That didn't absolve the horde of their guilt, from which they mentally sprinted away at every possible chance by delving deeper into their preferred unreality.

Still, Tamantha refused to forget the personhood in everyone because when we do, we can see more clearly our own moral failings. To see only a monster is to refuse to see how we all have bits and bobs in our brains that can make us turn into a person just like the HH or Yockey. Our nature enables evil, so we must resolutely educate ourselves in history and love.

"Can you—" the rattled woman began but stopped to start ventilating in stress.

"Steady now, dearie," the fusion said as she kept guard of the window. "Deep breaths. I think that will hold them."

What had just happened must have hit Akira completely. That could happen as adrenaline decreased and one started processing. Recruits all struggled with it, but Akira was a person who would never get used to it.

That was fine. What made her weaker in some areas made her fantastic in others. While Tanya's low empathy allowed her to think logically in high-intensity situations quickly, Akira's high empathy allowed her to comprehend and synthesize how others felt into a story that spoke to their collective dream.

Peaking out the attic window, Tamantha could see the HH retreating for some reason as their leaders waved them off. Something was going to happen.

The fusion turned to Akira, who had calmed down and checked in with her fellow elf-like agents of Tanechka's revolutionary mage corp.

"It will be ten more minutes before reinforcements arrive," Akira confirmed. "However, we have legionist mages on the way so they can carpet bomb the approach revolutionary forces with explosive formulas. Do you think you can handle them before you get in range?"

"Captain, is my clearance still C?" Tamantha called in the MI15 channel.

"Agent Calamity, I am escalating this to clearance B. Stop those mages."

Clearance A was nearly impossible to get and usually required League of Nations pre-approval, but B was very workable. It gave Tamantha a lot more room to work with in using force to mitigate the HH's violence as well.

In defending the innocent, like here in Autumn's Meadow, sometimes regrettable things like lethal violence became necessary. Behind her bubble, with Calamity's rifle in hand and Tanya's mana supply, the fusion readied to defend against the Legionist mages. Tamantha extended the range of her weapon and vision and locked sights on the approaching mages.

Suddenly, eleven more guiding formulas appeared in tandem. Tamantha could feel the mana of her allies, allowing her to multiply her firepower. One shot became twelve, taking out entire squads of enemy mages per pull of the trigger. The sky filled with a multi-colored death as the various hues of her comrades' mana formed rainbows that arced and swerved after their targets before splitting after the mages engaging in evasive maneuvers.

After she eliminated a battalion, the enemy mages realized they were dealing with a divine-classed mage and retreated. Tamantha kept her sights on them as they got out of her weapon's extended range. There wasn't much she could do if they tried to fly around her, as her flight speed was still abysmal. Only a few new spells had become available to her, like the bubble one.

Tanya separated from Calamity at that point, needing to take care of things on her end.

"What was that?!" the gunslinger shouted. Now, she was herself again.

"Fusion…," Tanya replied.

"I know that, but I didn't exist! Okay, partner, what is my name really quickly?"

"Calamity, lass," Masquerade answered. "What is wrong?"

"I kept a lot of her memories," the tall Tejan replied. "They are hard to distinguish from my own."

"Same," Tanya admitted.

"You have to be careful with that. I can recall how our minds slowly shared more and more with each other. If you do that too long, we'll be more hitched together than a two-head cyclops."

"You still remember your sister's middle name?" Tanya inquired.

"Yeah. I do. Do you still remember the nuns walking you to get tested for magic?" Calamity had to ask. So many of Tanya's memories revealed horrifying things about the girl's life and past life.

"Yes," the otherworlder answered. "At least we don't seem to be losing pieces of ourselves."

That made Calamity remember something from Tanya's life.

"You used the Type-95 despite knowing it overwrote your personality and made you forget things!"

"It was necessary to keep my team alive."

"What are you smoking?! You did not have to do that! You had other options than sacrificing pieces of your soul to the war effort, the Mages of Interpol, or your sense of professional responsibility."

"Time out, please," Masquerade interjected. "While it is nice that Tanya is back in the house with us again, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Calamity pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tanya has been sacrificing her soul for decades by using a cursed computation orb?"

"Blimey!"

"Tanya, why?" Fang Shiyu wondered. He was still on the call with everyone else.

"Okay, please understand that the item is mind-warping. I may not have…had the best judgment in using it."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I didn't think anyone would believe me. Also... The Empire would not have let me stop using it, more so when it was clear we were losing the war. Then… you get used to not telling people things. It is a lot easier now. Back then, it was absolutely terrifying. I thought I would get thrown into some insane asylum or get experimented upon."

"Tanya…"

Much hugging could be heard on the other side of the communication spell in Freedom's Egg. Calamity had to wipe her own eyes because Tanya had had it extraordinarily rough. Her life had been an almost constant stream of suffering and dysregulation. So much could have been made better had her secrets not been so unbelievable.

When this is all over, I am going to do what I can for Tanya, Calamity thought to herself. She needs so much love that it is unbelievable.

At least they knew what the curse of her Purpose divinity was — becoming a fusion with a person slowly and steadily made the differences between the minds of two individuals disappear until they were essentially one person. One lost their individuality to be together in solidarity in this duality. It really put into perspective how much suffering having multiple divinities caused their holders.

Mary Canary, I hope we can convince you to let go of the two extra ones you have. I hate seeing you in so much pain due to whatever they are doing to you.

Calamity then heard the Revolutionary Army and United Front approach as they sang Whirlwind of Danger, calling upon people to join their army as they approached the capital.

Fang Shiyu's mother, Miu Tsui-fa, ran up to Calamity and Akira. While most of the Zhangzi forces stayed in their country defending against another Akinese invasion with the Federation backing them up, the Tejan's teammate Fang Shiyu and his family had come to the Unified States to support the revolution. Knocking the Unified States out would cut the Akitsuhima Dominion off from their powerful ally.

"I am so glad you are safe," the newcomer expressed with a beaming smile.

"Where's Fang?" Calamity inquired, temporarily putting aside her feelings about Tanya's situation to focus on the mission ahead.

"Shiyu had to run ahead. The people in Horton County needed help as soon as possible."

Looking around them, the Tejan noticed the Hoarding Horde had all fled for the hills and were nowhere in sight.

"It seems the enemy is gone. We should be safe to—"

BANG!

Calamity instinctually dropped to the ground only to watch Demiguichi Akira's lifeless body stagger and collapse onto the lawn. Then, the Angel's entire body disintegrated, leaving only her bloodied archery uniform behind.

"Anti-Mage bullets!" Calamity yelled, "Everyone, take cover!"

Yet, nothing more happened. They couldn't even find any Silver Legion snipers in the area, and they suspected whoever they were, they must have fled.

Akira did not deserve to die like that. If I find who did this….

Calamity hoped her heart was wrong about who was behind this assassination.

---

Horton County and then to Chicago - 6th of December, 1952



Fang had heard about the death of Akira, and he ran to the high school in Horton County as quickly as he could. There, he found himself in the middle of a confrontation between protestors and the Silver Legion's Enforcers. He soon found himself gritting his teeth as Water shot at him with a high-pressure fire hose during a snowy day, actually hurting despite his mana body. He had jumped in front of the blast to protect the children behind him. One man had done the same. His clothes ripped away, and his flesh was lacerated by the sheer force the fire hose could unleash.
The Enforcers had swarmed Horton County not only to assist the Hoard Horde in purifying the school but to crack down on a nonviolent protest. The HH hunted for evidence of their bizarre conspiracy theories. High school students in the Black Revolution had taken to the streets to protest nonviolently.

Horrifyingly, the sight of unarmed students somehow provoked the Enforcers to unleash their high-pressure firehoses on the children on this cold winter day. While Fang had thrown himself before one of the hoses, he was not the real hero there. Non-mages lay on the ground, bloodied and beaten by the Enforcers. The elements and the non-magical tools of the Enforcers in Horton County threaten the protestors far more than they did Fang.

Pushing through the hose water by increasing his expenditure of ki, the martial artist ran up to the Enforcer. The violent racist yelped in fear as he didn't expect to deal with a mage. Fang shoved the hose into the air and then punched the firefighter to knock him out. Unlike the Calamity Amb, the martial artist could intervene easily between non-mages.

"We are approaching your location," Calamity called out. "Be on the lookout for an enemy sniper. They are taking out people in our movement. I am keeping your mother safe."

A few mage Enforcers rushed onto the scene and aimed to fire optical formulae at Fang. The martial artists accelerated his mind and reflexes, entering bullet time. He put his right middle and index fingers on his forehead, and suddenly, a bunch of afterimages appeared as he used a new technique he had learned. It wasn't as versatile as actual illusions. The images and he sprinted the confused and overwhelmed mages.

Fang deftly dodged the few shots that went his direction in his high-mana expenditure superspeed state. While his mana stores had grown over the last two years, he could not hold this state for more than a minute before mana exhaustion took him out. That was plenty to eliminate these enforcers.

Then, a bunch of vehicles entered the scene and formed a barricade. The Silver Legion planned to block the advancement of the approaching Revolutionary Army as they delayed as much as they could until Tanya deployed to assist them. At least, that was what they thought would happen. They had no idea that their goddess had joined the revolutionary's side, and soon, the seat of government in Chicago would be theirs.

It seemed that the enemy mages had no issue hurting children, so Fang had to take drastic measures to protect them. He pulled his mana into a ball in his hands, and then once it was the size of a football, he threw it. His arm motions guided the sphere of mana as it bashed into the mages and their vehicle-based barricade. The mana ball could only break a few barriers before running out of power.

Fang had overestimated how effective his new technique would be in real conditions on what had effectively become a battlefield. As the Enforcers raised their weapons, the martial artist desperately went back into his accelerated state. Mana's exhaustion would hit him soon.

Suddenly, Tanya's mana flowed into him far faster.

"Don't overdo it like you did with Calamity," He thought to himself about his friend.

"I won't."

He frowned at hearing a voice in his head that he hoped was Tanya's. It didn't sound any different than his normal mental voice, which made it spooky.

This time, instead of making a mana ball, he used the extreme amounts of mana available to him to form a disc attack. Cultivators rarely used these at his level because they were far too draining, but Tanya effectively pushed him up several ranks of cultivation temporarily. He tossed the disc, which could easily cut through barriers and people simultaneously. These were mages about to kill non-mages, children. It was Fang's obligation as an Interpol Officer to prevent that from happening. Mage lives were not more or less valuable than non-mages, but with power came the need to hold it accountable—the more power, the more accountable it needed to be.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Fang dodged two of the enemies' attacks that got out before they got cut down, but the third was an explosion formula. His legs moved with lightning speed as he grabbed each civilian in the range of the blast area and took them to safety. Even in bullet time, he couldn't hesitate a moment, or innocent lives would be lost.

As he dropped down the last person and it became clear that the coast was clear, Tanya must have tightened the tap of mana flow between him and his teammates because he felt exhaustion hit him. Fang would not fall unconscious. He had enough mana left to do a bit more fighting. It was his body that was strained.

"How are you?" Mae Shpigel called out as she rushed towards him with the Angel Kvetoslava Narcassus at her side.

Narcassus was a medical doctor who was doing her best to help the victims of the Silver Legion and the wounded in battle, along with her team of emergency personnel and volunteers. The elf-like communist got to starting triage and providing care.

Shpigel focused on Fang at the mage, who had just taken out a dozen mages, and the power of a superweapon was flowing through him.

"I will be okay," he answered Shpigel with a forced smile.

The war was hell, and now he has to see it in all its gruesomeness. Fascism was even more terrifying. The emaciated bodies of prisoners sat dying, locked in their cells. The prison wardens at Richard Diamond's command enacted a 'scorched earth' strategy of starving their prisoners to death before the Revolutionary Army could free them like the Union soldiers did during the Civil War. They had to stop to distribute emergency food supplies to the prisoners.

As Fang rested, one of the women's battalion approached, singing another one of their countless songs of solidarity. As they entered towns and cities, the songs were to encourage people who could volunteer and join them. It had been operational security that the date of the revolution had been kept from the general population, and songs played a role in disseminating coded information. People learned to listen to the songs that would tell them when to act.

This song — Bread and Roses — had a defiant but sad undertone that caught Fang off guard.

"What is it about?" Fang inquired in Russy. He didn't know Albish, but Mae Shpigel knew the language and assisted him with interpreting.

"It is based on a poem about the Lawrence Textile Strike," Mae Shpigel explained. "Many of them were women brought over as contract laborers from the Francois Republic and Norden, but at least fourteen nationalities speaking twenty-five different languages were present. The women were not seen as good enough for citizenship or the right to vote but good enough to spend their lives toiling away at the looms. Most of them did not live past the age of twenty-six, and they did not make enough to support their families. This song commemorates the women's struggle and those who died throughout the ages and during the strike. The song asks not only for bread but also roses because the heart starves as much as the body."

In short, it was a song of mourning, carrying the torch of an ancient struggle and a cry for the things that make life possible and meaningful. As Sonnetto would have told Fang, the lessons repeat themselves over and over. These high schoolers, those women decades ago, and his people in Zhangzi all had the same throughline of a call for dignity and equality. They did not want more than their oppressors but a life worth living. The difference was his people had taken the guns left behind by the Akinese and decided that the only way they would be free was if they made a new government of their own.

He looked around some more. Another thing that bothered him a lot. Fang decided to ask Shpigel about it.

"Why are there so few young children?" he inquired. He had seen plenty of high schoolers during their organizing in the Unified States but very few large families or toddlers.

"Many families of color, immigrant or otherwise, were forced or tricked into getting sterilizations, using the pretense of being given charitable medical care. We estimate that the Silver Legion has already sterilized half of American Indian women, and in California, Zhangzi and Aztecs are often sterilized without their knowledge or consent. (3)"

Fang sighed. Back in Germania, he heard the fascists drew lots of inspiration from the Unified States' eugenics practices. (3) The Revolutionary Army could not move fast enough to bring down the Silver Legion before they could hurt more people or inspire more nations to copy their tactics.

Or make them even worse.

"Okay, I have to focus on work now. May I ask more questions when we move out?"

"Sure, Mr. Fang."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shpigel."

The man drank some water and continued on his patrol. He didn't have time to think about any of this because he needed to keep an eye out for more danger, particularly that sniper. Since the assassin had killed Demiguichi Akira, MI15 suspected that Dr. Narcassus would be the next target. Both were Angels, after all.

So was my mother.

Narcassus was the Night Witch who almost killed Calamity during their Albish Museum case but survived because Interpol doesn't kill unconscious or surrendering mages. Fang watched her decide who could be saved and who was a lost cause based on the available resources and minimizing casualties. The Silver Legion had not responded to non-violent civil disobedience in kind, and the protesters had suffered grievous injuries. They did not know that an army from the United Front alliance would be rolling through.

Praxis of Civil Disobedience came from a tradition of deeply spiritual and nonviolent protest, according to Mae Shpigel. Tracing the thread of this ancient tradition back just a century ago, one could find the transcendentalist Ralph Waldeau Thoreau. The Unified States had imprisoned him for protesting its war of conquest against the Aztec Empire in the nineteenth century. A century later, Thoreau's Civil Disobedience inspired Gandhi, who went on to develop a non-materialist version of socialism and the praxis of universal uplift. Continuing back up the thread, one would find Gandhi's actions and beliefs would inspire the religious and nonviolent factions of the civil rights movement in the Unified States, including democratic socialists like Martin Bishop, who strove to abolish poverty and end capitalism as a central part of achieving equality.

Once the army had secured the town and gotten as many volunteers as they could arm, they headed toward Chicago. Fang called on Dr. Kvetoslava Narcassus and Mae Shpigel to join him on a tank descant. He wanted to keep close to the Angel in case the enemy sniper was hiding among the irregular forces in the army. He had more questions for Mrs. Shpigel.

"What do you think of the communists?" Fang Shiyu inquired of Shpigel.

"That is a hard question to answer, given there are so many tendencies," she replied with grim mirth, given their situation.

"What about you? Aren't you one of them?"

"No, I am neither a communist nor an anti-communist."

"What would you call yourself, then?" he followed up. A lot of this political stuff was beyond him, but Fang figured he really needed to know it. His country was going through a massive transformation. He wanted to understand what to expect.

"A Marksist humanist," she stated clearly. "I think that when we don't center people in our movements but just the material outcomes, we lose sight of the harm we do to achieve our ends."

"Instrumental rationality?"

"Precisely," Shpigel replied morosely. "When Leon Brotsky was exiled for his dissent, the party threw me downstairs. They lost sight of everything but the ends they wished to achieve and gave themselves an unlimited license to hurt those who threatened their vision."

"The vanguard party in my country is seizing power and doing something called 'Bolshevization'," Fang stated with some worry. "Do you think it will work out?"

"It could, or it could end up just like with the Old Federation with a cult of personality around one man." She turned to face the city of Chicago, where they would soon head towards after the army handled securing the area for the Revolutionary forces. "Like kings, you have great kings, but you can also have cruel ones. The problem is that without force, you can't hold the king accountable."

Fang frowned. Her words worried him.

"I have my own opinion," Dr. Narcassus stated. "I think that accountability is the key concept here. As someone who participated in the Second Revolution, holding people accountable was very much at the forefront of my mind. Obviously, forcibly overthrowing your government over and over again is not the right way."

"Then what is?" the man pressed.

"It is how you institutionalize accountability. Think about it — what do sexism, racism, monarchy, colonization, and dictators all have in common?"

He shrugged. These were not topics he understood all that well. He didn't realize he had been sexist or chauvinist until Tanya had addressed his behavior to him in a one-on-one meeting.

"They all have an unaccountable superior who exercises power on people below him with varying degrees of impunity. I call this 'upward accountability' because those below are accountable to those above them. This can and often does result in authoritarian and abusive behavior because the powerful don't have checks on that power. The abused has no formal way of stopping the abuser, who is often afforded the right to punish their inferiors. The sexists expect women to be lesser and accountable to their husbands and fathers. The monarch and the dictator hold his subjects accountable to his whims but exercise his power upon them as he pleases, punishing any resistance."

"And the employer?"

"A similar dynamic but much better than feudal and fascist relationships. The employer is unelected and imposes more expectations upon his employees than his employees can on him. The employer picks his employees, but employees can't oust their employer legally. With unchecked power comes varying degrees of unchecked abuses. Obviously, there are good superiors, but under the Silver Legion's 'profit over all' ideology, people are being drained of every last drop of value in their bodies."

"Then what is the solution?"

"Mixtures of downward accountability and mutual accountability depending on the context. Downward is when the powerful are made accountable to the people they wield power upon through various mechanisms that investigate, punish, and replace people who misuse the power given to them, like through democracy and term limits. Mutual accountability is when people hold each other accountable like a romantic relationship."

Fang thought about this. "I still don't see how we would implement such a thing in practice. Like how would a general of an army work if they were constantly questioned and challenged by those below them?"

"Good question, but alas, I don't have all the answers. Some communists deal away with military ranks for that reason, but it is a complicated political question, and I am a medical doctor."

Mae Shpigel listened to their exchange with curiosity the whole time. "A lot of this cannot really be figured out until actually in the position to make decisions in a real situation. I am sure the Americans will figure something out that will help us keep those in charge—"

BANG!

Fang had barely noticed the sniper before they shot. However, they were not aiming at Narcassus but Shpigel. He went into his accelerated state and tackled her midsentence.

The bullet impacted his left forearm, causing him to scream in pain. Despite some bruises, Shpigel was safe at least.

Fang, not so much. His hand fell off as his left arm started to disintegrate.

Phzzt

"Hold out your arm!" Narcassus shouted as she flew off the tank to meet them on the ground next to the road with a mage blade at the ready. He did as she told him.

Slice

His left arm fell off and disappeared before it hit the ground. Fang started to faint from blood loss as the doctor got to work saving his life. Had she not cut off his arm, whatever magic was in that bullet would have destroyed the rest of his body had the spell been allowed to keep spreading.

Calamity flew over to them and held overwatch, guarding them all.

"I think I know who the sniper is," the Tejan sharpshooter claimed on the Revolutionary Army's channel. "Only one person would use anti-biological rounds this potent."

She explained her hypothesis as the mages in the revolutionary forces started to sweep the area for the culprit before they could strike again.

---

Silver House Lawn

A few hours later

I walked with a contingent of Silver Legion mages guarding me.

"Goddess, are you well?" one of the mages inquired.

"Just peachy, thanks."

I had to pretend to be Victoria Truman for a little longer so I could reunite with Sonnetto. When she was safe, I would then fly to the city and clear the way for the revolutionary army.

I followed the Legion guards to the balcony as more zealots genuflected to me along the way. It took willpower not to keep my rage and discomfort to myself. I did not want to wear a mask like I had done for two decades. In my opinion, worship was a fundamentally wrong imposition to place upon a person. While individuals could worship whoever they wanted, asking people to worship you was what was wrong. No one deserved worship, especially if they demanded it. In fact, any being that demanded worship automatically didn't deserve any as they were far too narcissistic—instead, those who demanded worship in exchange for not suffering deserved the greatest contempt.

At the balcony, I saw her. I forgot about all those people calling on me to bless them.

My expression then turned into a glare as I noticed the man next to her — Emperor Cassander. He was the one who had killed her and her son. He had the gull to take advantage of her puppet-like state without me to feed her mana to make her his wife and declare himself Emperor of Persia.

I reached the railing and dismissed the mages at my side.

"You look splend—"

"Be quiet."

Cassander became aghast.

Outside the balcony were those zealots who offered their mana to the Goddess of Destiny Manifest, but that person did not exist.

"People, I have something I must confess," I began, keeping up my act a bit longer. "Your Goddess is an atheist."

Ironically, I think most gods are atheists since they don't believe they have a creator, but I mean a being that deserves worship.

I let those words sink in. People were understandably confused.

"I am not some unalloyed whatever you think I am. Nor am I just some blonde, blue-eyed germanian to foist your disgusting fascist capitalist ideology upon."

People started getting mad. They didn't like knowing how I really was. They wanted a White Silver, who was this strategic genius who proved that their belief about a hierarchy of beings was correct.

"Who I really am is the person who loves this amazing and beautiful woman right here."

I turned to the Sonnetto, who watched all of this passively, but I hoped, with my mana, she would come back. My hands took hers into mine, and I lifted them to my face as I stared into her crimson eyes. Then I put my forehead to hers as I transmitted more mana into her.

I could feel a spark there, hanging on for dear life inside her body. I hoped it would be enough to bring her back.

BANG!

A shot went off, interrupting my thoughts.

Time froze as I tried to figure out what to do—an enchanted bullet headed straight for me. From what Calamity described, it certainly would kill me. I had no idea how the assassin had even gotten in range to shoot me or was going to come after me.

This wasn't fair. I did nothing wrong. I didn't deserve to die like this. Not now. Not here.

Why can't I have anything? Why can't I have peace? Why do happiness and peace slip from my fingers every single time?

If I die, I am pretty sure I am not coming back like the other mandates. Being X made it very clear this would be my last life.

I wasted my first one chasing after a career that made everyone suffer. People hated me, and I didn't care. Now I know how foolish I was, and I don't even get to take the least number of steps towards doing all of these things that will bring me the peace I want. Like many people around me throughout my life, I want to fall in love and start a family. Being X would even taunt me with dreams about what could have been had I understood what love was back during the war.

As I futilely tried to move out of the way, a terrifying miracle occurred. Sonnetto woke up and shoved me out of the way.

The bullet struck her instead. Her regeneration couldn't counteract the much faster anti-biological spell that the shooter had used.

No!

This wasn't going to be how it ended.

In order to save her, I would have to sacrifice my individuality.

"May I?"

"I never want us to part again. Please, before it is too late."

Silver waves formed around us as we fused. Her personality and mine became one. Since Sonnetto no longer had a body, the spell thankfully fizzled out. In our union, Sonnetto and I were utterly destroyed and made new again. The world faded away for a moment.

---

Sonata's Soulscape

"Freedom?" The Devil Doll began with biting cynicism in her voice. "The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it's profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way, and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater."

She looked like a blonde young Tanya in the form of a doll with devil horns at the top of her head and red crystal eyes.

"Why can't... Why can't people decide how to live their own lives?" The cat plushie asked. "Isn't our existence as individuals the least we should be able to control?"

The cat plushie was white and had blue buttons for eyes. It kind of looked like Tanya, too, as if Tanya were a grumpy cat. Why was it so familiar-looking?

"The moment people lose the capacity to think, to question, that they just become animals headed to the slaughter without resisting... they stop being people, they lose what makes them human," the Devil Doll answered. "Then again, I am not a human, so what do I know?"

"Some people say there is a fine line between the brilliant and the insane, but I feel like it's actually fairly easy to tell them apart, with hindsight," an Akinese woman added. "Of course, that doesn't help you in the present, so if you really want to know if someone is insane or a genius, just talk to them and decide by yourself. You may make a mistake, but sometimes that's better than being warped with indecision. To live is to make choices. After all, the moment you can't make any choice is the moment you stop living."

The woman, too, looked like Tanya but had blonde fox ears at the top of her head and nine blonde, fluffy fox tails behind her.

"So tell me, little doll, are you free?" The Devil Doll interrogated what must have been Sonneto.

The Devil then tied the homunculus in puppet strings, only for the cat plushie to cut them with surprisingly sharp claws, and then Sonneto fell into a black void only for the fox woman, the... kitsune, to catch her.

"Who is the real Tanya?" The Akinese kitsune inquired with a smile. "Have you decided yet?"

"None of you are the real Tanya, but all of you are part of her. "

"Good, you are learning." The cat plushie said. "Be thankful we locked Tanya's pain away, for you are not ready for her yet. Now, wake up and pamper Tanya. We deserve it!"

I woke up only a moment after I fell unconscious. I was Sonneto, I was Tanya, I was… Sonata.

---

Silver House Lawn

Ramona Mercer frowned. Empress Roxanne had blocked her shot, and then something bizarre happened. That was her third shot.

The first one was for the revisionist Demiguichi Akira. She had corrupted the Zhangzi revolution by persuading the vanguardists there to incorporate a 'one country, two systems' and multiple parties into their new republic. Revisionism not only distorted Marksism with capitulations with the ruling class but would result in a kind of state-run capitalism like what the Silver Legion had. While Ramona could tolerate Markism-Levinism-Tanechkism (MLT), Demiguichism needed to stop spreading.

As Ramona's vanguard would say, 'Death to the Traitors', and that included all revisionists.

The second enchanted bullet would be for Mae Shpigel. She had rejected dialectical materialism for something she called Marksist Humanism that synthesized Hegel and Marks. Like the current leader of the Federation, Shpigel viciously criticized the Old Federation, claiming that it 'rest[ed] on the mainspring of capitalism — paying the worker the minimum and extracting from him the maximum.' (2) This distortion led countless revolutionaries to believe that Marksist-Levinist governments were exploitative of the working class and the party was somehow a kind of ruling class. Ramona had tried to eliminate her before she embedded herself deeper into the Founders' Party and moved the scale of power further into World Federationism.

The third bullet was for White Silver. The arrogant, religious fanatic had declared herself a goddess and deviously tricked the people into thinking that her conduit powers were divine when that power really came from her duped followers. More importantly, no one had caused more devastation than this goddess wannabe. She had written the White Silver Creed that had persuaded so many people that being powerless was freedom and that unfettered corporate greed would somehow benefit the poor people in the long run when people were dying now and history proved otherwise. Even worse, Victoria Truman's floods and armies had killed countless Aztecs in the genocidal war in the south.

'No gods, no masters,' as the anarchists would say, and likewise, to be free, there had to be no White Silver who wanted people to worship her.

Ramona took out her only spare enchanted bullet and cocked her gun, but before she could fire, her old friend Amber Canary walked in front of the sniper and blocked Ramona's shot with her body.

"Why?" the Tejan demanded.

The woman must have snuck up on Ramona while she focused on her target. Her new height had certainly been surprising to see up close.

"For the future of my homeland," the Orthodox sniper answered.

"Tanya and Sonnetto are my family."

"I don't know who those people are, but Victoria Truman killed hundreds of thousands of people!" Ramona roared. "She has these people under her spell."

"Look at them, though!" Calamity shouted back, gesturing to the crowd.

The reality was that the Silver Legion screamed about a demon and demanded that the real goddess end this farce.

"Drop your gun, Ramona," her friend repeated.

She lowered her gun but did not drop it.

"She is a fascist—"

"She is practically two lesbians from Berun in a magical trench coat," Amber interjected, clearly holding back her rage and frustration. "I promise you neither Tanya nor Sonnetto wants to be associated with these people."

"You know that homosexuals have fascist tendencies, Amb."

Dzhugashvili and Moscva had stated this during the Old Federation days. It was why the CPUSA, who were not fans of the post-coup government, kicked out from the party the founder of the Mattachine Society, Harry Hay.

Amber looked absolutely dumbfounded.

"Ramona, it takes two seconds of thinking to know that the legionists and fascists ain't too fond of people like my friend over there," the American war vet countered. "She is taking them out right now. She is on the side of justice. You clearly aren't right now. So drop your gun. Don't make me ask again. I don't want to kill you even though I am pissed as all hell. You really hurt a person I care about and murdered another who didn't deserve it."

Ramona dropped her gun. Not because she was actually afraid of Amber actually hurt her. She knew the moral heart of her friend, which beat with all the blood that had been spilled over the ages and to the rhythm of history in all its guilts.

No, it was those idealistic eyes. Those damnable idealistic eyes begged her to show mercy to an imperialist dog like White Silver. It was always the moralizers who broke the will of revolutionaries—begging for nonviolence when that didn't work—calling for mercy when the person in question was not deserving of it. White Silver really didn't deserve any mercy, in Ramona's opinion.

Amber Canary picked up Ramona's rifle without dropping eye contact. The Tejan Sharpshooter was the only person in the world who could stop her with anything less than outgunning her, and Ramona did not know what to think about that. Was it wrong to have hesitated like that? Was it because Amber's eyes had become a mirror that made Ramona condemn herself? Or was it because she trusted her old friend's judgment?

Life had neither simple answers nor easy solutions to the problems that plagued Ramona and the people she fought for. She would just have to keep moving forward even while her loved one had her locked up. Would the other factions of the revolution understand her actions and why they were necessary, or would they group her with the other fascists like Damien had?

Calamity started talking to her team via a communication spell as she kept an eye on Ramona.

"Tanya,...Okay, I will call you Sonata," the other woman said to her team. "Having experienced fusion, I get it. We need you to get to clearing the way for the revolutionary army downtown. MI15 will help cover you. Are you in good shape for that, sis?"

Ramona watched as White Silver took off from the Silver House after dealing with the genocidal Silver Legion senior mage leadership with the other MIs. If one focused, one could hear the air filled with the sound of two women madly in love with one another and an enrage wave that desired to engulf all of the Silver Legion in its wake.

Suddenly, instead of the Angel of Destiny Manifest, Ramona could see a glimpse of another woman who was also two. This Sonata had joyous purple eyes, magical hair that resembled actual waves, and four arms, two carrying Zhangzi swords and two carrying pistols. How such a person had been trapped inside Victoria Truman and Empress Roxanne baffled Ramona to no end. So many things had not yet been explained.

"You see her, huh?" Calamity asked.

"Yeah."

"Took me quite a while myself," the Tejan admitted. "But she was definitely much more closed off back then. I think a lot more people will get to know who those two really are in the future."

Ramona watched as a magical wave overtook the city of Chicago. It didn't kill anyone or affect the approaching revolutionary army. Instead, Silver Legionists started floating off the ground, being carried away to detainment centers rapidly being set up by surprised Interpol officers. A lot of people wanted to en masse kill the Silver Legionists, from their paramilitary arm to the Enforcers to all the party officials. The League of Nations and Sonata clearly did not share such sentiments, hitting a balance between excessive violence and complicit inaction. It was something only possible because they had both the power to do it and the sense of responsibility to act professionally.

"She could rule this country with that much power," Ramona commented in awe and concern.

"She won't," Calamity responded.

"Why not? Sonata could have anything she wanted. She could make the whole world conform to her whims? What is stopping her?"

"Because she has met god and discovered he was a self-obsessed asshole. She knows what it is like to be the plaything of powerful megalomaniacs. Her entire being is defined in opposition to that kind of abuse."

"What does she believe in?" Ramona inquired.

"Freedom, self-determination, a desire for peaceful work, the love of her work, the love of her family of coworkers, and a deeply felt sense of professional responsibility towards one's organization."

"A trade unionist then?"

Calamity broke out laughing and had to wipe away a tear. It had broken the tension between them when Ramona had just minutes ago tried to kill this Sonata person. The sniper definitely wasn't off the hook in Calamity's eyes, but stress and sadness tended to make the darndest things funny.

"Don't say that around her…I don't know how much her Sonnetto side will mellow out the Tanya side. She is very sensitive right now to people claiming that she believes something she very much doesn't."

Two more mages soon flew to their location as Ramona awaited her fate for the murder of Demiguichi and the attempted murder of Mae Shpigel. One was a man with green eyes and a colorful mask. The other was a well-known elf-like assassin in her iconic green suit.

"Are you Ramona?" the woman inquired with a smile that laughed at death.

The sniper kept her mouth shut. There was a time when Ramona looked up to this assassin. Then this person betrayed everyone by working with the genocidal capitalist assholes in the Albish Empire and throwing her allies to Interpol.

"She is," Calamity answered for Ramona.

"Well, you probably think I am here to exact revenge for what you did to my comrade," the assassin stated cooly.

"What do you want of me?" Ramona had to ask the green-suited Angel.

"I come here on behalf of Tanechka, and we have an offer."

"Shoot."

"Ha…well, we need you to tell your vanguard to cooperate with the Unified Front, and we want some information from you."

"What if I refuse?" Ramona retorted.

"I could have your vanguard handed over to Interpol as one option. The other is Tanechka, who is very much willing to settle things Old Federation style. If you play like it is the bad old days, expect to get hurt like it's the bad old days."

Essentially, going with the latter option meant a traitor's death. Tanechka might have overthrown the Old Federation, but that was because the leader of the Angels thought it was poorly managed, irresponsible to the conditions of the people, and had developed an aristocracy. She wasn't some idealist above using violence. If one got into the game of using violence, one had to expect to play by the rule that said 'might makes right'.

"I thought you said you weren't going to go around the rule of law?" the Albish man questioned with worry.

"We are in a country where the government had just been overthrown, for starters. Not much rule of law here. Second, I trust that she knows better than to go against Tanechka, who doesn't make idle threats, so at the end of the day, playing the rules set by Ramona here, we have not done anything wrong."

That was the rule that the ends justify the means. If you threatened someone to do the 'right' thing but didn't actually hurt them, does the end result of them doing that right thing mean the threat was not wrong?

Calamity definitely seemed concerned.

There was no guarantee that Tanechka would not just kill them anyway if she had the means to pull it off, which she might actually have. More concerningly, this standoff was far from the first rodeo for the mysterious green-suited assassin. Surrendering completely to the Tanechka felt horrible. The leader of the Angels had backed the World Federationists as a concession to the Russy Federation that saw those civic urban revolutionaries as the preferable ruling party over the Orthodox faction that largely hated Brotsky and his allies' guts.

Ramona took a deep breath and glanced at her friend Amber Canary.

"I surrender. What information do you want?"

"Simple. We know you know that you know where Richard Diamond went. Just tell us, so justice can be done."

Well, that was something they all could agree on.

---

Thanks Pinklestia101 for betareading and writing the dream sequence.

Citations:

1. Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. Not "A Nation of Immigrants": Settler Colonialism, White Supremacy, and a History of Erasure and Exclusion. Beacon Press Books. 2021. Page xiv
2. Logsdon, Jonathan R. Power, Ignorance, and Anti-Semitism: Henry Ford and His War on Jews. Hanover College History Department. <https://history.hanover.edu/hhr/99/hhr99_2.html>
3. Ko, Lisa. Unwanted Sterilization and Eugenics Programs in the United States. PBS.org. 29 January, 2016. <https://www.pbs.org/independentlens/blog/unwanted-sterilization-and-eugenics-programs-in-the-united-states/>
4. Dunayevskaya, Raya. Marxism and Freedom: From 1776 to Today. Raya Dunayevskaya Memorial Foundation. Published 2000.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Recap: Last time in MI15, the Unified States had a second revolution, and the Silver Legion was defeated. Now Interpol chases after Richard Diamond as Sonata (Tanya x Sonnett) gets used to their new normal with a new country.

Note: This is a work of fiction with characters who have various opinions and thoughts. No one in this story is perfect or 'the voice of truth'.

---

Downtown Chicago, Unified States - 6th of December, 1952

I flew over to downtown, having defeated the Silver Legion mages at the nation's capitol with my allies' help. Most of them were located there, which was why Tanya bothered to play along with the ceremony instead of attacking right away. Lure them in with the pretense of meeting their Goddess, and blammo, a huge portion of the enemy mage forces would be squashed.

Being shot, however, was not in the plan. Tanya had hoped her team and having two mandates would be enough. Unfortunately, her plan did not survive contact with her supposed allies.

Masquerade had admonished Tanya for her vanity speech, which almost ended in both of my halves dying, but to be fair, she was dumb in love. She still was, from my perspective, the one embodying both of the lovebirds. As a member of Interpol (I definitely went through a lot of PTO), I had the responsibility to stop crimes against humanity and non-mages by mages.

On one side, I saw scenes unfold of enraged mothers and daughters getting armed as Legionists threatened them and their families, sons waking their fathers from bed, and rebels forming a line to defend their communities from the Horde and Enforcers.

On the other side, armored cars, tanks, and guns prepared to tear into any revolutionaries who came into the range of government buildings and decadent mansions around them. Silver Legion armed forces broke into homes. They interned suspected populations en masse and killed those who resisted, heedless of the cries of little children.

In the middle was Interpol, who had a job to do. The international community did not live by mob rule, but we also knew when a government had clearly crossed a line. National sovereignty had limits. These scenes had only broken out recently, yet every moment we delayed meant more civilians and many aggrieved rebels died.

If I didn't sound particularly sympathetic to the Silver Legion, it was because I wasn't. One can imagine

It was time to lay down the law in this dysregulated state.

I extended my mana through a network of relationships. MI15 connected to me, and from them, I connected to their friends, family, and allies. Like the degrees of Kevin Bacon, I tapped into the power of the whole revolution and its sympathizers. They willingly lent their mana to me at the price that I temporarily lost myself to their will. Unlike Victoria Truman, I was accountable to those who decided to give me their power by embodying their will, and vice versa, when I gave them mine. As Tanya would say, it was a relationship of fiduciary duty.

The revolutionary mana flooded the city with mana. No one got hurt, but Silver Legion started to float off the ground, and water-like mana held them aloft. Manipulating the mana, I pointed their guns toward the ground to prevent harm.

I sat in meditation in the middle of this steady vortex. I wouldn't let the revolutionaries make me kill people for them. The Silver Legion had already made me kill enough people. Richard Diamond, President Yockey, and Emperor Cassander embodied the totality of dual-self rage. I was nothing if not professional, and they will get their due soon.

The revolutionaries, the United Front, and Interpol moved through the vortex unaffected. The Silver Legion was kept carefully neutralized. They could be arrested or whatever. The important thing was that corruption would be washed away, and something new would form in its absence.

During the revolution, were there some pacified Legionists who got killed? Of course. People were pissed, and these were irregular combatants. Interpol started coordinating through my team to where I could move the surrendering Legionists into places where they could be detained before their trials. Many wanted me to be like a nuke that wiped evil off the face of the earth. My Tanya half very much wanted nothing to do with nuking places for obvious reasons.

I was far from a pacifist, but both of my halves had no desire to do violence in excess. Tanya had a distaste for irrational behavior. Sonnetto may not show her emotions in her facial expressions strongly and has a mystic's aspiration for going beyond the immediately apparent. Neither fetishized revolution or violence. For both of them, it was a means to peace and freedom to do the work they enjoyed — being an Interpol officer. They didn't even mind how much the socialists in the League of Nations held them accountable anymore.

Revolutionaries walked past where I sat. I had no idea what my silver mirror was showing them. I sat on a bench, meditating as I focused on carefully identifying threats to the revolutionaries and pacifying them with the mana. Some people walking by told me to join them. Others called on me to go to a shelter. I ignored them. When I told them to leave me alone, it was like someone couldn't hear me. It was surreal.

My soul form, hidden from the world except for those who knew the real me, had four arms and resembled Tanya's soul combined with Sonnetto's. I had four arms now. I could summon the two Zhangzi swords Emperor Zhu had given Sonnetto at will. Alchemy would be necessary to get Sonnetto's arsenal reequipped. She definitely missed her dual pistols.

I couldn't see my full appearance from my first-person perspective, and I had no reflection. I did know that I had Sonnetto's cloak that I could summon and obscure my extra pair of arms. Having two more arms also gave me more real estate for tattoos and wielding more weapons. All the new possibilities excited the weapon-fanatic Sonnetto.

One could not miss the red flags and the various flags of the socialists and communist organizations that made up the United Front. I did not know how to feel about it.

My Tanya side was a capitalist realist. Capitalism, in her opinion, was the end of history and the least bad option of all possible economic systems. As for Sonnetto, she thought that compassion for others and humility towards life's big questions were important due to her Seeker beliefs.

As their views came into harmony together, a new perspective emerged that helped distinguish my viewpoint from the Silver Legion's. Some of my thoughts were messy and confusing as they aligned two quite different perspectives, but the spirit of harmony was there.

For starters, I didn't think the value in goods and services came from the valuer (the buyer), as Edmund Burke argued. That was smacked of existentialist and absurdist nonsense, in my opinion, just like how Jean-Paul Sartre and Ayn Rand foolishly argued that freedom was a kind of nothing [Nichts] through excessive abstraction from embodied existence. The Camus-Burkean perspective of imposing subjective value on the world led to a situation where the monopolists selfishly used their power to determine value to instrumentalize labor until it was literally commodifying and killing people. These Richard Diamond types had made themselves gods in their minds.

Instead, in order to have a healthy market, we needed to return to some of the ideas of Adam Smith, who centered empathy and the laborers' contribution to value in his view of markets. Empathy, not greed or other excused vices, was the means by which two compatible desires meet and create a relationship in the world. Cooperation, partnership, and neighborliness based on this empathetic power played a foundational role in how markets formed. The Silver Legion's all-against-all Individualism ran contrary to this freedom of association that highlighted this meeting point between solidarity and individuality.

By entering the laborer's contribution into one's worldview, one also remembers to appreciate their work and value them as the ones who make life happen. Value wasn't to be imposed externally by the valuer but instead created by people-as-ends in their lives. For example, a mother isn't a biological machine one uses to get a child or reproduce the nation. Instead, they are a person who goes through a challenging but hopefully wonderfully transformational journey of bringing life into the world. We needed to separate the people from the arithmetic of the bottom lines again and treat them as ends between which markets acted as connections.

'I think you want a child,' Sonnetto commented.

'I do…,' Tanya admitted.

'Are we going to adopt or…?'

'I don't know. We aren't human. I want to have a child, and I don't know how to describe the feeling. It was something I never really thought about in my last life because it was painful to do so.'

I frowned as Tanya's emotions turned melancholic.

"We figure something out," I stated. Who knew what was possible, given our unique existence?

It was just a matter of seeing where the thread goes.

Roxanne had a child with Alexander Magnus, but the last thing Sonnetto remembered of him was that both Roxanne and the child had been poisoned to death by Emperor Cassander back in the early 40s. If Alexander II had been brought back as a homunculus, too, he would have been somewhere out there in the world.

Their permanent fusion would create a lot of logistic issues. Their pension plan included Interpol and bank accounts. It was going to be a massive headache. Tanya had a lot of enemies. Sonnetto had a whole country that was supposedly under her rule now that the Emperor had an 'accident' on the balcony at the Silver House.

'Should we talk about that?' Tanya inquired.

'Not now, dear,' Sonnetto replied.

I would have to do one thing at a time. As for taking care of a city worth of Silver Legion bozos, that would take days.

'I had better get overtime, a lot of hazard pay, and all of Sonnetto and Tanya's accumulated PTO back for this.'

'You love your work, Tanya.'

'You do, too, Sonnetto.'

'Do you know what I love more than what we do at Interpol?'

'I…I actually do.'

How unspeakably wonderful it was to know someone really loved you without any doubt or having to parse undecipherable expressions — clarity without any painful ambiguity.

Then I heard Masquerade on the communication channel.

"We found Richard Diamond. He is in Argentum."

An old smile of Tanya's from her Great War days crept on my face. As I heard the details, I tested the extent of my Solidarity mandate.

How far does this go? I thought to myself before finding a thread that led all the way to the country of the Silver River.

"Doctor Gonzalez, can you hear me?" I sent it through the line.

There was a shout of surprise on the other end.

I really need to find a way to contact people with this power without them freaking out or thinking they got a voice in their head. Pulling on the thread, I tapped Khuyana Gonzalez and her fellow Interpol Agents into my talk with MI15.

"A shame we can only contact allies this way since distracting enemies in battle would be quite effective," Tanya mused.

"Be nice," Sonneto scolded Tanya playfully. I could even picture Tanya getting a soft slap on her face and then blushing.

---

Undisclosed Safehouse, Argentum - 20th of December, 1952

Richard Diamond and his team crowded around a map. The news that the Unified States had just fallen to the revolutionaries had reached them. They needed to plan what their next couple of steps would be.

"I need some water now," Diamond demanded. It was a hot, balmy day down in the Southern Hemisphere, and the businessman had not packed accordingly, given it was December.

The tall man looked around the table as a drink was given to him by one of the servants. Of the people gathered, starting from Diamond right, there was Milton Freedman, the Silver Legion's Chief Economic advisor; Lopez Pegaso, the head of the Argentum Anticommunist Alliance (AAA) and great at cards; Henri Lollore "El Rata", the owner of almost all of the ports in Francois West Afrika and a bit stuffy; Sir Evelyn Loring, the Governor of Senya in Afrika and really knows how to do a good barbeque; Kermit Hoosevelt, the American Intelligence officer assigned to install theocratic rule throughout Persia and had a funny voice; Larry Messenger, a foreign policy advisor handling the Operation Menu and developer of realpolitik; and Claire Genault, the manager of the CIA's Civil Air Transport company and the only woman allowed at the table. All in all, it was a great group of friends to have in all the right places if you wanted to make a getaway.

Beyond the table were secretaries, servants, and, most notably, the Divinity of Time, who had been taken from South Afrika during the CIA's attempt to get as many divinities as possible after seeing what White Silver could really do. While this divinity proved to be a dud for live combat due to his inability to engage continuously with the present, his prognostication ability allowed the group gathered to foresee potential futures and avoid them. Diamond couldn't be bothered to remember the poor's name, so he had taken to calling him Oracle.

"By the time night arrives, one of you shall die," the voice emanated from the Oracle. He spoke in a language that transcended all languages and was understandable by all present. "The Heartseeker blade does not miss."

The men and women went pale. There was no way they would get out of the country before sunset. The prophecy had come too late.

"Do we have to keep him here?" Lega wondered. "I don't know if my heart can handle another revelation like that."

"Chin up," Loring advised. "We need all the information we can get. Once we gather our resources together and come up with a plan, we can rally and push out the revolutionaries."

"Okay, Milton, what are our options," Diamond pressed, trying to focus on solutions rather than dying.

He didn't deserve to die. What had he ever done wrong? According to the egoism of Andrew Ryan, self-interest was the only good one should consider, not enslaving oneself to so-called moral causes or the humanitarianism that led to serfdom. Diamond had lived a great life in accordance with his desires. People should emulate him, not treat him like a monster.

Freedman glided his middle finger across the map and stopped first at the Aloha State in the Pacific. "We could hold up with Pineapple King. We have a large naval base there and would be close to our allies in the Akitsuhima Dominion."

The Pineapple King was an Eirishman named Jame Stole of the Stole Food Company. His fruit products had become a household name across the world, and his company had an astronomical 45% of the global market share for bananas. It sure helped him get a well-deserved headstart on the rest of the market to have the Unified States kick out the Alohan Queen and put him in charge of that country. One could just do business so much more efficiently when their corporation ran the country.

"Boy, what happens if we go to Aloha?" Diamond inquired, curious if visiting the Pineapple King would prove fruitful.

The South Afrikan man's eyes opened, light emanating from them.

"A wave will wash away the ships in the harbor of pearls. The sailors will drift into the hands of the world. The men in kinky boots will move to the Eastern Sea, and the sun will set."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The Sun — the Akitsuhima Dominion perhaps?"

"Well, obviously, none of that sounds promising. White Silver obviously will crush the harbor."

Diamond rubbed his chin. "Her power won't last much longer. Without worshippers, she will go back to being functionally a normal mage."

"Tanya von Degurechaff was the most skilled mage in the world," one of the team members pointed out. "Her normal is several cuts above the rest."

"Okay, Milton, what is our next option because that one is no good?"

He glided his finger along America's fruit loop of monopolist-subordinated governments to Longdurous in Central America. "We could join up with Sam the Banana Man. We would have most of the Silver Legion forces occupying the Aztec Empire between us and the Revolutionary Army, as well as Sam's militia to protect us. There is no way they will be able to defeat a modern army even with White Silver's help."

Sam Lemmurray owned the Unified Fruit Company. He had expanded into Longduras by gathering up a militia in Louisana and then taking them over the Aztec Gulf to the country he wanted to conquer. The Unified States eventually negotiated a ceasefire between Lemmurray and Longduras, pushing everything in the monopolist's favor. The President of Longduras had to stand down, and Lemmurray's puppet got put in his place. Inspiringly for the monopolists of the world, the poors of Longduras had to reimburse Lemmurray with their own money for all his coup expenses.

Diamond wished he could be a great entrepreneur like the Banana Man one day, but as much as he would love to spend an evening with his personal hero, they needed to be sure that they would be safe.

The group all turned to the Oracle and inquired about this potential future.

"The Tejas Twister will tear through the armies of silver," the divinity of time spoke, "and where bananas are taken, the people shall rise."

Poors doing anything other than working for monopolists or dying was definitely not a future anyone in the room wanted.

"Why don't we go to the Central Afrikan Republic?" the francoisman Lollore suggested. "Lakossa is a good friend of mine, and we will not only get the protection of his army but of the Francois Republic."

Lollore's country had remained neutral regarding the Silver Legion because they utilized American business and military support for their imperial management. Personally, Diamond could not be more impressed with how the Francois Republic extracted enough wealth to rebuild its economy after the Great War. It bothered him that they provided 'welfare' for their poors, but it kept them satisfied enough to mentally justify the poor man's rococo lifestyle. Importantly, it kept them from revolting like the poors in America had. The lesson: have your aristocracy oppress the poors in another region far from the voting booth and center of government power.

Key to the Republic's success was the implementation of the CFA Franc imperial currency that subordinated fourteen countries' economies to the Francois Republic. It had proven way more cost-efficient than colonialism ever was. Basically, instead of using tanks, the Francois used the bank. They accomplished dominating the post-colonial economies by monopolizing all the ports and controlling the prices of exports through the CFA Franc. These Afrikan nations just could not develop an export economy and were completely stuck under the financial thumb of the Republic. It was well known throughout the political class that by forcing these countries to purchase goods at above-market prices and sell goods at below-market prices, the Francois Republic could become one of the wealthiest nations in the world.

In other words, no system had so lucratively impoverished as many undeserving poors as colonialism. Still, nothing had hurt the profits of the superior beings as much as countries gaining independence and pursuing economic policy independently of them. Luckily, capitalism spurs innovation, and new forms of controlling countries through monetary control and regime change have developed that were even more profitable than the old-school colonial strategies.

As impressive as Lollore's option seemed, the group still wasn't sure how safe it would be, so they turned to the Oracle and gave his next prophecy.

"The hands of the world will be tied in the Americas. You shall have a safe harbor, but only for a few winters. The Angels seek to free the over-exploited, and whispers will lead them to you."

"Then what?"

"Some of you will perish."

Going to the Central Afrikan Republic proved the best option available to them at the time, so they left as soon as they could get into the jet.

Diamond had to push Lopez Lega off the stairs to escape before a very unreasonable Andean mage from the local MI team could kill him. Apparently, the League of Nations had given the Mages of Interpol the okay to eliminate them. The worst mistake the superior beings ever made was not having veto power to stop other countries from asking for unprofitable things like justice for the poors. Now, the socialists in the League did something unforgivable, trying to kill or capture Richard Diamond, a practical saint.

The law wasn't supposed to hold rich people accountable. Thankfully, the people of Francois Republic knew that there was nothing more vile than letting the poors revolt against the ruling class. It went against nature and everything the Francois people stood for. That was why they took so much pride in destroying New Luinea's economy after they refused to be economically dominated by the Republic. All it took was forging and dumping countless counterfeit bills into that country, and the poors got what was coming to them. The Francois Republic sure knew how to make an example out of any poors who dared question nature's hierarchy of humanity where the rich were at the top, the sedated welfare serfs were in the middle, and the poors stayed at the bottom they belonged.

As the rest of them flew off, Diamond got a sense his allies were worried that they might be the next to get eliminated. Before it could become like the Commonwealth turning on the Silver Legion, the businessman reassured them that he would never sacrifice them for his own benefit. Lega was an Argentium. His life was just less valuable than theirs, and they accepted that excuse for now.

They didn't know that the Oracle had told him that the only way for him to survive Interpol hunting him down was to sacrifice all his friends resources. A go-between with Interpol named 'Sally W.' would help him escape future capture in exchange for incriminating information as well as leading his allies into traps.

---

The Free Township of Grafton, The Democratic Confederation of Abya Yala - 22nd of May, 1953

Roar!

'I don't like it here,' Sonnetto complained.

'Just give it a little longer,' Tanya placated. 'The town is going through growing pains.'

"Do you think I can scare it off?" Matheus asked me.

"I would rather not have you fight a bear," I replied.

"Sonata, it would be kind of cool. You think?"

A grizzly stood before us. It had started sniffing around our house after gorging on our neighbor's garbage. We didn't really know what to do. There was no one to call to deal with bears in our new hometown of Grafton in the new country the revolutionaries had created.

While Khuyana Gonzalez and the rest of MI54 hunted down Diamond and rounded up the criminal paramilitary group AAA in Argentum, I was getting used to my new normal. Matheus, Calamity Amb, and I had moved to Grafton in the former Unified States after the revolution and settled down into a functional government because Germania had gone a bit too scary politically for a lesbian like me. I also really needed a vacation, and it was much easier to update my documents in a brand-new government. As for Richard Diamond and his buddies, I left that to Interpol and the Angels until they called on me or my multi-year vacation of emotional recovery concluded.

The Unified States had split into two after the revolution. The Unified States of America now consisted only of the states on the East Coast. The revolutionary movement claimed the territory west of the Happalachia mountains and named their country Abya Yala based on the suggestion of the World Indigenous Peoples Council.

It had two governments that overlapped each other. One was a Democratic Federation that resembled closer to what one thought a next-gen socialist state would be, with new bells and whistles that would supposedly correct past issues that plagued the Old Federation. The other government was a Democratic Confederation of allied townships that opted out of the Federation system for the most part. Each township could experiment with its plan within some guardrails to prevent slavery and things like that.

As for my family's new hometown of Grafton, it billed itself as a libertarian paradise with almost no taxes, strict private property protections, practically no regulations, minimum public services, and the bare minimum of government. My Tanya half absolutely had to give it a try.

The houses looked quite lovely when we moved in. Modern, though a bit cookie-cutter.

Then, the neighbors came. Some of them let their lawns go to hell. Some put up a bunch of southern confederate flags and were extremely racist towards me. The same guy also made sure to pee in view of everyone to make a point that no one could do anything about it because if we trespassed into his yard, he would shoot us. He was also the guy who properly disposed of his garbage despite the fact bears were in the area. Some people just wanted to embody a walking middle finger, and this guy had really outdone himself.

Obviously, I could just put up a barrier and do whatever I wanted, but I wasn't that kind of person.

'I don't want to raise a kid where someone is going to shoot them if they walk onto their property,' Sonnetto complained.

'We could make it hard for him and pester him until he leaves,' Tanya suggested, still staunchly committed to the experimental town in the Confederation half of Abya Yala.

The Germania war vet was definitely trying to avoid being in the socialist Federation that most of the country had joined and the Albish-allied traditional liberal democracy on the east coast, which had a few too many 'former' Silver Legionists in it for Tanya's liking.

"We could also shoot the bear," Calamity offered. "Or scare it off with some gunfire."

"Yeah, no," I replied as I rubbed my forehead in frustration at being the responsible one once again. "We are not shooting a gun right now. The McKinsey said if one more person starts shooting in the neighborhood, he is moving out."

"Okay, I am going to wrestle it then!" Matheus shouted.

Yeah, I was going to move. This was not working for me. Hopefully, the township Polyxena and Masquerade had picked proved more inhabitable.

---

Radical Faerie Sanctuary, Democratic Confederation of Abya Yala - 30th of June, 1953

I found a corner of the small home to stare at because things here were not quite what I expected. A jolly Masquerade and a pregnant Polyxena sat in the modest living room with us. Despite being upset that Richard Diamond had slipped from our fingers again, Elya had told me she had a plan to turn the man against his allies, which would pay off in the end, she promised. With that knowledge, I focused on the present.

"Is there something wrong, Sonata?" Masquerade inquired.

"Is everyone here naked?" I pressed.

"Not everyone," Polyxena clarified as she pressed herself upon her partner's back. "We Radical Faeries come in all shapes and sizes. Some of us embrace our clothes, some shed them."

"Plus, I am not naked," Masquerade stated.

"You are wearing a mask and a tie," I countered.

"Business formal for me."

Polyxena was a bad influence on my former vice-captain. The guy had gone native.

"I don't like this place," Matheus whispered to me. The guy was old-fashioned and honorable. He liked more traditional town structures, and the Radical Faerie Sanctuary was as far away from that as you could be.

'I don't want to live in this hippie land, sorry,' Tanya admitted.

'I think it is fine as long as they don't expect us to participate in the nudity.'

I preferred to dress modestly in public. Despite being a bunch of more pacifist and communalist types, I felt quite a bit of peer pressure to fit in more. Someone even called me a square. It was definitely not my cup of coffee being here.

"Hey, Harry Clay is claiming the communal tent all for himself and his partners," someone called out from outside. "This is the last straw!"

I tried to ignore the commotion outside as we continued to discuss their choice of home.

"So, what do y'all do for fun in these here parts?" Calamity wondered, having absolutely no issues with anything naked. The farmer knew how sausages were made. A few hippies were not going to bother her.

"We have an olive grove where we can attune ourselves to nature and do calisthenics," Masquerade started. "There are drag shows and parties. Handcrafts are popular."

"And plenty of adult fun times if you are interested in the free love stuff," Polyxena added. "I'm not. My Laurie here is enough for me."

'That doesn't sound too bad,' Sonnetto commented.

"Okay, I had enough!" that man outside roared. "Down Faerie fascism. Anyone who thinks Harry Clay is a dictator joined me. I am starting the Faerie Fascist Police."

I sighed. "Does this happen often?" I wondered.

"No." "Yes." The couple replied, contradicting each other.

"Yes." "No." They tried to flip their answers to the other's one simultaneously.

"Mr. Drake, would you answer?" I pressed, taking command of the situation.

"Walker and Clay have a long history of fighting each other. Most people who have joined recently don't know about their rivalry. You can ignore it when they aren't shouting like this."

We continued to talk about their baby and their lives. Masquerade was going to get back to crime-fighting once their child was a bit older, or accommodations could be made to make it reasonable. Polyxena was just focused on the present but insistent that they were going to share responsibilities evenly and fairly in child raising and housekeeping.

After dinner, my family and I flew off.

"As nice as this place is, I can't imagine living here," Matheus commented sheepishly. He probably felt guilty for not liking it there.

"What? I think it was all pretty nifty. They didn't take too kindly of my gun, I admit, but they were not bad folk."

Calamity cared more about people being friendly than falling into convention.

There were countless different townships and land reclamation projects throughout Abya Yala that made up its Democratic Confederation side. The Iroquois Confederacy, for example, had been doing very well with building up their communities and healthcare infrastructure, but moving there was understandably limited right now. I needed to consider someplace that would fit with Matheus and my Beruner preferences.

"We will try one more option in this country," I muttered. It was the one I was dreading.

---

Bde Óta Othúŋwe, Democratic Federation of Abya Yala - 12th of July, 1953

If I weren't terrified of being repurposed as a mage-shaped nuke by European countries or the Russy Federation, I wouldn't be in this planned economy of the Democratic Federation. As for our new maybe-hometown of Bde Óta Othúŋwe [Many Lakes Town], it had seen a lot of riots as the revolutionary army set up the new government from those who wanted to keep the Silver Legion rule, but the workers' council went away fast to rebuild roads and infrastructure doing Hoosevelt style projects to keep people employed and the economy humming during the transition.

What surprised me most was how seamless a lot of it seemed. From what I can determine, the big difference between the Old Federation and Zhangzi's rapid transition into very pure socialism was the increased democratic element, allowing for more sophisticated policy-making, as well as the fact that most of the economy was already effectively collectivized under authoritarian, price-controlling monopolies. Replacing the leadership of a monopoly with worker councils with the assistance of technocratic advisors proved…terrifyingly simple.

Setting up farmer co-ops as the market was democratized would take time. The Americans decided not to employ the disastrous Soviet-Union-style shock therapy to go from the authoritarian American model of economics to a democratic one, which resulted in massive amounts of death and oligarchies taking over in my past life. Instead, they employed a planned and steady approach to dismantling the dictatorship of the Silver Legion.

They reformed the economy so that it had social ownership and used what the late Demiguichi had called the dual-track system. It first required key industries to meet quotas sold at a set value to the government. This quota was so the country could still keep its promise to the people to ensure that their basic needs were taken care of from 'the cradle to the grave'. Then, any surplus production could be sold at market value. This system was what had turned China of Tanya's past life from one of the poorest countries into one of the wealthiest countries in that world with a booming commodity market in a few decades.

Still, it gave the federal government a lot of power to control the economy and, by extension, people's lives. You needed a lot of trust in your political apparatus to live in a planned economy. The stronger the state, the more dangerous it can be when corrupted.

'We are not going back to Grafton,' Sonnetto stated, her mental arms akimbo.

'Wasn't planning on it, dear.'

I had to go through a fairly typical bureaucratic process to migrate into the Federation side of the country's political makeup. It wasn't as intensive as Germania, but it definitely created several hoops to jump through to start my new life.

"Name?" the immigration official asked me.

"Sonata Canary von Weiss," Matheus spoke on my behalf.

Matheus acted as my translator. Not everyone could hear my voice. Since it would raise unnecessary questions if I talked to my friends while on mute, I used sign language primarily around strangers.

"Age?"

"...75."

I kind of made it up. It was hard to figure out what would make sense.

The man looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Mage status?"

"Full mage." And then some.

"Great War Longevity, I assume."

"Yeah. I do."

"Are you part of a union already?"

"No, not really."

"Then you will need to join one as part of your citizen responsibilities for now. You have to keep that collective spirit up and educate folks on how things work in a democracy. What is your occupation?"

"Magical International Police Officer."

"You are an MI, then. Awesome. Big fan of Agent Nichts. I hope she catches that Richard Diamond bastard and brings him to justice."

"I am sure she will get to it eventually," I replied with a slight smirk.

'Pzzzt.' a certain homunculus burst into laughter in my soul space.

'Sonnetto, it isn't that funny.'

'I find it hilarious that people do this around us all the time. Oh, don't pout. Let me give you a kiss.'

I did my best to hide my blushing behind my hands. Calamity seemed to have guessed what was happening in my head, but the strangers around us wouldn't understand.

"So here are the few options for your area for your local worker council. Also, here is guidance for participating in general assemblies. This one will tell you where to go to attend classes to learn Dakhóta and the history of the region."

I took the pamphlets and scanned the list of local community centers for one that might interest one or both of my halves.

"Do you want to volunteer for Sortition selection?" the man inquired, continuing down his forms.

"Very much no."

The Federation of Abya Yala used a bicameral legislature, with one half being a senate of technocrats and council representatives and the other half being a people's house composed of a sortition of lottery-selected individuals from across the country. This bicameral setup, notably, segregated powers and duties away from the technocrats, such as the ability to remove corrupt officials from the Senate and prevent the consolidation of power into a dictator. In essence, being part of a sortition amounted to jury duty, but for the People's House.

I didn't want to potentially be tied down doing legislative jury duty for a couple of years, which was why I didn't volunteer for that.

After answering the rest of the questions, we reached the last bit of business at the immigration office.

"Okay, I will need to take a picture to finish your ID, ma'am."

Oh shit. Well, this will be complicated.

My appearance does not appear in mirrors or on film, and everyone sees me as a different stranger these days unless they bypass the Silver Mirror power.

I turned to Matheus and Calamity Amb for advice. My adoptive father simply shrugged.

"I reckon we were going to have to pull a few strings," the Tejan stated.

And a few strings, indeed, did get pulled. It helped to have friends in high places.

Once everything got settled, my family moved into an apartment next to Loring Park in the city of Bde Óta Othúŋwe. Loring Park was apparently dubbed the gayborhood, and Bde Óta Othúŋwe was rumored to be the lesbian capital of the country secretly. I figured it would be relatively safe for me and my family. While the couple in my soul had one another, my body still wanted company. It would be nice to go to some lesbian bars and get reintegrated into the community here.

Depressingly, the Berun GLBT community in my home country had fallen apart, and Bde Óta Othúŋwe had become a haven for those fleeing as Europa became increasingly nationalistic again and their biggest threat became the Russy Federation.

On the bright side, I found a lovely group of artists to help me improve my painting skills. My first piece, as a fusion, depicted how Tanya and Sonnetto fused together and created me.

'I think you are exaggerating my figure a bit, Tanya,' Sonnetto stated.

'Hey, we are both technically making this, and I like to think of it as being stylized. How do you know you aren't the one doing it?'

'Because I know how I paint myself.'

'Well, you definitely went all out on my hair.'

'No, the waves really do look like that.'

'Really?' Tanya wondered, reviewing Sonnetto's memories.

'Yeah, it is gorgeous.' the white-haired interpol officer replied.

'Well, I think you look pretty cool when you have your short hair and those twin pistols out.'

'You always did like tomboys,' Sonnetto replied with a chuckle and a mental hug to her other half.

'Well, I have great taste, is all.'

More soul-space kisses and such ensued.

We deserved this happiness. After so long, we deserved it.

---

Mapudungun International Airport, Andean Confederacy - 2nd of November, 1953

"Welcome!" cheered Doctor Khuyana Gonzalez and members of her ayllu (family clan) as my family and I came out of the plane.

"There are a lot of you," I signed excitedly. It was nice meeting her again after so many years. It felt like a lifetime. I fished some stuff out of my packs. "We brought gifts."

"Oh, we appreciate it."

I let her see the painting I made of her battle form, which I think really captured her fierceness but loving side.

"I forgot to bring sunscreen, and Matheus needs toothpaste," Calamity mentioned. "Where can we buy…I mean, get one."

"I don't think anyone in my ayllu has spare toothbrushes," Khuyana answered in Ispagnia. "But we do have sunscreen we can share. If we don't, I know how to make some."

"I really don't know how we are going to do this whole trip the Inca way," I stated with curiosity.

The Inca had an advanced 'moneyless' society based on family-clans-based mutualism and solidarity; however, that left visitors in a bind to join up with an ayllu or bring a bunch of gifts and things with which to barter.

For this reason, we brought some bags of Gonzalez-approved seeds that the local mages would love to experiment with in their spell gardens. We had to be very careful not to get anything that didn't belong in the local ecology and cause unforeseen consequences. Getting through customs was a pain, but eventually, our seeds got double-checked.

Tanya wasn't an environmentalist, but she knew well enough that to mess with the Amazon too much was to mess with the ability of all humans to live on the planet. She had friends on this planet. Plus, neither Sonnetto nor Tanya wanted to step on any toes while visiting another country or cause havoc through ignorance. That was why you always had to ask local experts for guidance on this stuff; they lived there and just knew better.

"The shops in the cities will take currency," our Andean sponsor clarified for me. Khuyana might have lived in Argentum, but most of her family lived in the Confederacy to the north, which had once been the mighty Inca Empire before colonization and their subsequent war for independence.

I gave her an exasperated look.

"Hey, we Andeans want to buy stuff from Abya Yala, too, and most foreigners want to trade in currency. It is when you get to the countryside that you will need barter goods. Plus, tourist destinations are set up with foreigners in mind."

To each their own, I guessed. A debate over whether to have a moneyless society or not had been raging back in Abya Yala after some millionaires were caught attempting to bribe members of the current sortition. Some thought that having more money equated to having more rights. I thought it was terribly impractical not to have money. Get rid of accumulating cash, and people will just accumulate goods. If you make goods family-owned or communally-owned, then those families and communes will accumulate goods. The same dynamics would remain present.

Markets always find a way to exist. The key was having a system of internal and external controls like any corporation worth its salt would have to prevent fraud, misappropriation of assets, material misstatements of public reports, etc. Really, people just need to get CPAs to design their legislatures and resource management systems to have properly established responsibilities, segregation of duties, and restricted access.

Regardless, it was fun hanging out with Khuyana and her Ayllu. Calamity really loved the nature here. We even went to see the penguins. We took a lot of photos.

Matheus did have to go to the hospital after an accident with some wildlife he really should not have gotten that close to. Really, he has let his being a mage get to his head. We aren't indestructible. A snake bites in the middle of the jungle without Khuyana around, and he would be dead.

While I wouldn't want to live in the Andean Confederacy, like I say — to each their own. That was what freedom meant to me. Find a way you want to live.

On our way back to Abya Yala, Khuyana pulled me aside.

"Sonnetto, Tanya, I wanted to tell you both that everyone in the MI54 is relieved you both are safe," she said with soulful violet eyes.

"It isn't the first time an ego-maniacal asshole has tried to take me out. Although it is the first time I am forced to share a body with another person permanently."

"Still, we were so worried. I might have needed to…."

"It is okay, Doctor Gonzalez." I took her into a hug and rocked her a bit. She had been holding this in during the whole trip, not knowing when to bring it up, I guessed. Now that I was leaving, this was her last chance to get it off her chest. "If Tanya were trapped that way, she would have wanted you to."

"If you ever need us, let us know. We aren't going to let those bastards ruin any more countries or take any more people like they did you."

"Thank you. We will catch him as soon as we can. We just have to wait until we are given the call."

We had not known each other very long, but I could feel that we were kindred spirits in a way. Now my vacation was over, it was time to get back to work. I wish it had lasted longer, but to be honest, the fact I could not find a place I really liked to stay, plus my legal status as "Sonata" would have made a more extended vacation more of a hassle anyway.

---

Interpol Branch Office in Bde Óta Othúŋwe, Democratic Federation of Abya Yala - 30th of January, 1954

Agent Fred Wei-Ho put another recording jewel into the display box. I had decided we needed to desegregate mages and non-mages in our field teams more, and Fred had proven an excellent field operative when it came to gathering information on the ground. There were just too few mages, and it helped keep us grounded in a way that was often lost just being in a mage-only club together, as well as having someone available to intervene in the oft too common instance of non-mages being present who needed apprehending.

I supplied mana for the orb to operate, and a projection of Paul Robeson's hearing at the House Un-American Activities Committee went on display.


View: https://youtu.be/bFLg-LpiEok?si=xeAUbgG8riu1A7uS
(This would have been set before the Silver Legion took power in 1936. Note that the language is from the period, and some historical references will be off.)

Fred and I took notes detailing for the International Criminal Court prosecutors. There was just so much to go through. Some had been destroyed, but we needed to dig not only for signs of what had happened but also for what had led to fascism's rise in the Unified States. The world needed to know what the signs were and how we could make sure to catch them before history repeated itself.

The League of Nations also had to become smarter and have the proper teeth to curb the twin evils of imperialism and fascism. The former was the impulse to take from other regions and genocide them for profit. The latter was when that imperialist tendency turned inwards through the genocidal acquisition of cultural and ethnic 'territory and resources' within a country, in my opinion.

Both, I believed, were an affront to what any principled liberal should believe in. Imperialism amounted to grand theft at the national level, which was why it was necessary to curb the lawlessness between nations through the prudent use of global governance. Fascism or Legionism was a no-brainer, but the tricky thing was knowing how and when to intervene in a country. We didn't want just to turn the League of Nations into an imperialist instrument using the oft-used pretense of 'civilizing savages' that the European officials employed when abusing, enslaving, and genociding people into understanding how to be decent human beings.

When the footage ended, a seemingly random thing caught my attention.

"What did the committee mean by communist name?" I asked my colleague Agent Ho.

"You know how Mae Shpigel goes by Freddie Forest in her writings?"

I nodded.

"That is because it is not safe. Communists get spied upon, arrested, and murdered — revolutionary or not, like with how the AAA in Argentum rounds up politicians, journalists, and activists and kills them. It isn't safe to be critical of fascist regimes."

"Or certain communist ones," I added, remembering Ramona Mercer's picking off her fellow commies who criticized the Old Federation and became 'revisionists'. "For all their talk of solidarity, they sure fought with each other a lot, even to the point of killing each other. Well, to be a revolutionary was to accept that negotiation already was off the table."

"Well, would you be moderate in the name of justice?" Fred countered.

"I would be moderate in the name of losing myself in irrational desire just to hurt people," I retorted back casually. Mary Sue had definitely taught me that the pursuit of 'justice' could go way too far. "Before one criticizes some prudent moderation, one should imagine being on the receiving end of too much revanchist justice."

We kept going through records on this thread of abuses. Paul Robeson died in Moscva after what was believed to been mental destablization due to an injection of MKUltra, which was a brainwashing drug used by the CIA in torture. MKUltra was the successor to Project Artichoke before the refinement of the formula with the help of the most amoral scientists they could find to do human experiments through Operation Paperclip. The head of the CIA destroyed most of the documents before the agency and its allies could be held accountable. Tanya, who had a long and traumatic history of fighting mind control, took the task of holding these people accountable for their crimes. They would have to do a lot of interviews to recover what was lost.

Somewhat similar to the role of the AAA in Argentum now, the CIA had systematically attempted to covertly eliminate, disrupt, and denigrate any anti-fascist, anti-imperialist, and anti-racist organizations in the country. Paul Robeson was hardly the only victim of these purges of political resistance to the rising unique brand of fascism in America called Legionism. The CIA had files on everyone from journalists to politicians to activists of all stripes who held highly critical positions in US domestic and foreign policy. Philosophy professors, in particular, found their ability to publish papers revoked, and they were ushered out of universities en masse.

Then, as I flipped through the more documents with Agent Ho, I got a surprise call.

"Tanya, Sonnetto, you have some time for a meeting," someone messaged me through my Solidarity powers.

"May I ask who is calling?" Tanya replied.

"Oh, sorry, your friend with problems, Elya."

Fred noticed that I had gotten distracted. "You in a call?"

"Yeah, do you mind if I step out to have a meeting with our boss?"

He waved me off. "I will continue where we left off with making our report."

I took our professional duty as law enforcement to provide our contribution to the accounting of history from the point of view of justice and law enforcement very seriously. We weren't perfect and not focused on every aspect of what happened. Still, we had a fiduciary duty to the world public to give a nuanced understanding of the incentives, opportunities, and rationalizations that led to Legionism and its various atrocities.

"Be back soon, Fred."

I headed out to my office in the new Interpol Abya Yala branch headquarters. Calamity Amb and Masquerade wanted in on the 'call', so I pulled them in as well. This was far from the first time they did this, and a lot of information about Tanya's past life had to be shared, given her complex situation. Every time she shared her true self with someone trustworthy, though, it became easier the next time.

---

Sonata's Soul Space

Unlike just talking through Solidarity connections, Tanya and Sonnetto could bring their allies into their Soulspace for more coherent conversations. It was hard to understand each other if you couldn't distinguish their messages from your own thoughts.

Tanya set up an imaginary conference table while Sonnetto made sure the soul-stuff chairs would be comfortable.

Elya's soul came into the conference room and took a chair. She had these cracks along her spirit's porcelain-like surface but eyes that seemed to pierce straight into your soul. In short, her form here made clear what her flesh form obscured.

Calamity Amb stood tall when she nonchalantly mosey on inside. She had her Tejas cowgirl outfit, but one of her hands was forever covered in the blood of her self-condemnation, while the other often had a torch of past struggles. Around her neck was a locket with a picture of her family, which her understanding of her father featured prominently despite her not having many memories of him. The man lived on in the stories her mother and sister had told the Tejan.

Masquerade looked a bit like a sunflower with a green suit, a yellow-petal-shaped ascot, and a masked face that somehow always had sunlight upon it. He definitely thrived in the spotlight and sought it out. If his mask fell off, though, his form would fall into darkness.

Once they were all seated, the meeting began.

"Do you want to start with work or politics?" Senior Officer Elena Müller began as Tanya conjured coffee for everyone — their favorite blends, brewed precisely as they liked them.

"Politics first, please," Tanya stated. "I am concerned about you, my former adjutant, and her family, given some of what I heard."

While the two soulmates had kept occasional tabs on the politics of Tanya's home country, their house search and Silver Legion investigation in Abya Yala had kept their focus there. Sonnetto had encouraged Tanya to avoid negative news for a few months for her mental health. However, the situation had gotten to the point where the reincarnated soul's worries about what was happening to the country where many people she cared about lived demanded an update.

As for the others, no one was going to disagree with that. They knew the stakes were high in how Germania's political elections went. With the Russy Federation breathing down their homeland's neck for an excuse to invade and the Francois Republic poking bears that really should not be poked, World War II could still occur. That was before discussing the situation within the Fatherland.

"How did the bid to repeal Paragraph 175?" Sonnetto inquired with apt interest. Decriminalizing male homosexuality, which Paragraph 175 criminalized, would help everyone in the GLBT community in Germania by giving the country a sense of normalcy.

"The Scientific Humanitarians got the libertarians to vote with them on the repeal by convincing them that 175 enabled people blackmailed people with the threat to accusing them of homosexuality," Elya answered with a dutiful report. During these soul conference meetings, she gained this business lady mask over her face. Sonnetto had the feeling it was to appeal to her soulmate. "Everyone remembers the Eulenburg Affair, so we know how much harm accusations, true or not, can be."

Well, some of those present remember that.

The homunculus, who was privy to Tanya's mind, could see some memories flashing by. Her love remembered how, in her past life, President Ronald Reagan had been convinced of the same argument by activists in the gay rights movement with the same argument. It bothered Tanya that 'small-government' types couldn't just decriminalize homosexuality on principle rather than needing to be convinced how it might impact people 'like them'. Sonnetto knew better, being very familiar with these constant contradictions between what people say and what people do, but it was hard for Tanya to be perpetually disappointed in her fellow pragmatic liberals' hypocrisy.

"What is the likelihood of the repeal passing?" Tanya attempted to sound hopeful despite her frustrations and life-long experience of being disappointed.

"Right now, slim," Elya replied. "Not only did we just finish our elections, but the recession here due to the revolution in the Unified States as well as the huge shift of power towards the socialist camp geopolitically has put several other policy matters higher on the agenda."

It was what it was. Tanya knew gay rights in most capitalist countries were going to take a long time to develop.

"Okay, we have a socialist party gaining massive ground with rural, women, and middle-class voters," Elya reported before taking a sip and thanking Tanya with a smile.

"Well, ain't that good news!" Calamity proclaimed, making her political biases clear. "What is their platform? Any nationalization of industries, bolstering unions, equality between the sexes, anti-war, and anti-discrimination?"

"Quite the opposite," the spiritual porcelain former spy replied with a smile. "They plan on privatizing some state industries, banning trade unions and establishing a party-run replacement, restoring traditional family values where 'men are men and women are women', rehashing the Great War to bring back the Empire days, and going after several minorities with a vengeance."

"How in tarnation are those socialists!" the gunslinger grossed. "That's just some jingoist conservatives."

"It is a cynical ploy to get working-class votes by coopting their slogans, language, and labels," Elya explained and then complimented Sonnetto for the pictures and calligraphy she had added to the coffee cups. "You should see how their leader will give speeches to get the religious vote while obviously not liking the Universalist faith. It is all whatever will get them to vote for his party. However, what I am really concerned about is how they are picking up so many women as voters."

Masquerade tapped his soul's shiny chin. "If I had to guess, it is child care."

This got Tanya perked up at a subject very much on her mind often these days.

"Think about it: after the war, all women had to get into the workforce en masse, but then many had kids, of whom they were also expected to take care of all alone," he clarified, flexing his insight as a soon-to-be father who makes frequent joint decisions with his partner.

"Basically, they can't figure out how to balance doing effective two full-time jobs," Tanya stated, deep in thought before imagining her cup full again. "So these traditionalists are offering women a way to go back to something more manageable in the form of family life before the Great War. Speaking of which, we should probably have Interpol start providing professional childcare services and perhaps places for families to stay during prolonged investigations."

It made sense to the Japanese-Germanian woman who had been grappling with how to balance work and the question of how to start a family in a world that still lacked the infrastructure to support two-earner households. In her past life as an HR manager, childcare services were a standard benefit for employees who needed help balancing work-life as work hours increased, commute time increased, and both spouses found themselves needed to work to make ends meet. It was just more profitable for a company to provide childcare if it meant getting more hours out of their employees.

As for her other idea, she had seen American soldiers in her past life be stationed in Japan with their families in the residential areas around military bases. If Interpol could do something similar, she could transition MI15 to a major case team that required a high-powered team.

Then, something triggered in Tanya's memory as she tugged on her past life's memories more. "Would these happen to be national socialists?"

"Yes, and their party leader happens to be Rudolph Himmler right now," Elya answered somewhat passively.

It wasn't like the former spy didn't seem concerned, but bombastic 'good ol' glory days' politicians were a rentenpfennig a dozen.

"I know about that no-good, Phord-ass-kissing, anti-Heartist-conspiracy-spouting son-of-a-gun Himmler!" Calamity shouted with rage billowing in her torch. "Explains why he wants to get rid of unions upon getting into office. They are two peas in one hateful, ignorant pod. You know, Phord once published that he thought the planet couldn't support skyscrapers in his papers. When the Chicago Tribune editorial board criticized him for being an imbecilic blobfish, the millionaire sued to silence them. It backfired royally because he had to admit in court that he didn't really know anything about most things he often wrote about in his papers. Both Phord and Himmler hate how the press keeps telling them that they are full of bull."

Sonnetto could listen to Calamity's stories for hours. The woman always had one ready for any situation.

"That certainly is the case," Elya replied. "Himmler has taken to calling the press 'die Lügenpresse' [lying press] and has vowed to eliminate the freedom of the press."

"You know you are ruled by criminals when revealing their misdeeds and mistakes is criminalized," Masquerade commented with a flourish of wit. "I think—"

"No, this isn't a joking matter!" Tanya interrupted in a way she rarely did. It was obvious now to everyone that she was freaking out again. Most of them didn't know what she knew. "We have to make sure he doesn't take power. What were the election results?"

"They received about 37.3% of the vote," Elya replied. "It isn't clear who will take the ruling coalition."

Calamity looked confused. The pre-Legion Unified States didn't have proportional representation or any of the other 20th-century democratic bells and whistles that the Germania Republic had. One of the benefits of starting a new government was building off of what worked and didn't work in the past to try to make something better…hopefully.

"So no, they will have to make a minority coalition," Masquerade offered. "Who is really going to work with Himmler's party?"

"We have to wait and find out," Elya answered. "By the way, how is 'Jane' doing?"

"Well, actually, we have been going through things one step at a time. We have to go to the doctor—"

Interrupting him and everyone was the soul space filling with a sudden burst of images and screams bouncing around the conference room.

"He will kill them."

"--save Visha."

"I messed up again. I always mess."

"Why didn't I do something…why didn't I stop this!"

Sonnetto quickly went to comfort her love as terrified, paranoid thoughts started flowing out of her head through her hair, which grew to fill the soul space.

Everyone was frozen in surprise. Tanya had had panic attacks before, but never while they were in her soul space. They could only watch as countless glimpses of text, videos, and stray thoughts from Tanya had as her spirit shuddered.

It was complicated to express it. Those who haven't experienced the terror of being surrounded by neighbors who act nice but vote for politicians vowing to eradicate your existence off the face of the earth wouldn't understand. How does one eat dinner with someone who doesn't understand what their beliefs mean? How can one be friends with someone who tries to cheer you up after voting for Himmler, claiming that what you fear won't happen when you know it can? …when you know to take the bombastic promises seriously?

"If it's alright, I think Tanya needs the rest of the day off," Sonnetto added as she squeezed Tanya tighter against her spiritual body, bringing the episode to an end. "Elya, you and I still need to talk sometime, but right now, can you and Brecht do something to make sure that none of this doesn't happen? For us, for Visha's family, for everyone."

They all bowed out with their apologies. Tanya had asked Elya for an update and gotten what she desired in all its terrifying reality. To face reality with knowledge of what is and could be can be the most horrifying experience.

As Sonnetto understood it, there lay inside each person is a constellation of instincts, desires, histories, and limits. Align them in one way, and they can turn out with a Mary Sue. Turn them another way, and you can get a Tanya. Every once in a while, a charismatic leader with a particular vision will hit upon one set of constellations of the human that allow them to get away with the greatest of tragedies. The silver lining was that these individuals of disaster rarely held the majority truly under their sway, in Sonnetto's opinion. The key was fostering moral courage to stand up against the mob and the solidarity that would bring the many to support the resistance.

Sonnetto had lived a life of being unheard, and not only because she was mute. She refused to let her light and the lights of so many people who knew what it was like to be hated, misunderstood, and discriminated against be snuffed out. People needed to learn to listen and to really hear.

The report about the Silver Legion's rise to power would just be the start. As James Baldwin said, 'We will live here together, or we will die here together. It is not I who is telling you. It is time that is telling you. You will listen, or you will perish.' People need to know how serious it is to fight the forces of oppression because if they wait, it will come for them.

---

Bde Óta Othúŋwe & Imnizha ska International Airport - 18th of February, 1954

The sounds of the people in the airport filled the air around me. Away from my friends, I was the absolute stranger. The Silver Mirror curse prevented everyone from seeing the real me unless they tried to see me, and it now prevented them from hearing me unless they knew how to listen to my voice. Not even my alchemical tattoos or a face mask could get past the mirror. Since no one knew Sonata, they had no prejudices to determine what they thought I should look like.

I found that I rediscovered how to show some of my halves former selves with some concentration. As far as the world was concerned, Agent Nichts still flew around, saving the day. I could even shift my mana signature between Tanya's and Sonnetto's. Leaving it in between the two made me seem like a completely different person as far as mages were concerned.

While I fidgeted nervously, people started walking off the plane.

"Visha!" I shouted, waving my hands.

The woman didn't notice me….she didn't even hear me. Her daughter, who was an Interpol agent, tugged on her mother's arm and pointed Visha towards me.

Tanya's former adjutant looked at me like a complete stranger.

'Ugh…this is so familiar.'

Then, Visha focused on me, and her eyes widened.

I could have forced Tanya's appearance, but that would have caused other potential problems I wanted to avoid. The only people who knew who I was were trusted friends and allies in the echelons of Interpol. I used those same connections to get Visha and her family out of Germania before violence against the Russy and Eastern Europeans spiked again. People were dying already again from mob violence.

"Tanya…is that really you."

"Sonnetto is here too. We both are."

Visha tilted her head. I repeated myself while pointing to my ears. It took a moment and help from her daughter, but she got the hang of being in tune with hearing me.

"May I hug you?" I asked.

"I…yes, you can," she replied.

I held her, not caring if people could see me talking. Sometimes, it was worth being afraid of minute risks.

"I was certain you were mad at me still," she stated with a wetness born of nostalgia and suppressed grief.

"And I you."

"We both made mistakes, didn't we?"

"We did…Visha?"

"Yes, Tanya."

"I…just wanted to say I am glad you are safe. We can talk about what went wrong another day, but right now, I just want you to be safe."

I had honestly forgotten everything I had wanted to say to Visha over these years, both Tanya and Sonnetto. Underneath all that hurt still lingered a feeling that would never go away. How does a person ever hate Visha? How does someone forget the person who stayed by your side through thick and thin?

It didn't matter who caused the rift between us or any accounting of grievances. Some things transcended such things. We would talk about things, but without a fire that tore away what good remained between us.

I could feel years of grief in Visha that had trapped her, and my mana helped her pull out of that inner turmoil and reconnect with Tanya again.

We went to my home and had some dinner with my family before they went to the dwelling we had prepared for them. It would be cozy, but they were safe here in Abya Yala. If everything went according to plan, our carefully crafted report on the Silver Legion and Elya's efforts would soon make Germania safe. History did not have to repeat itself this time.

---

Sonata's Soulspace - 10th of March, 1954

It had been a couple of months since our report was released. Coupled with countless journalists and academics scouring the former Unified States for answers for what had happened, the world had come to understand the horror that the Silver Legion embodied. All that remained was hunting down the remainder of their leadership. In the meantime, Tanya and Sonnetto could move on to new jobs.

Elya had called another conference in Sonata's soul space, which not only gave them completely safe communication of case details but allowed them to be together when their physical bodies were oceans apart. This meeting only had Fang, Elya, Calamity, Sonnetto, and Tanya—basically, they are the most senior active members of MI15.

"How is your new arm treating ya, Fang?" Calamity inquired about their martial artist teammate.

"Actually, quite well," he replied.

We couldn't see it, but we assumed he was flexing his magetech arm. It wouldn't be as helpful as his other arm since his flesh was infused with mana to make his abilities work. That being said, some strides were being made for battlemage augmentation for prosthetics. It was unclear if cultivators would be able to use such tech fully, given the incompatibility of their Dao foundations to computation-core-based technology.

"The folks back in Zhangzi treating you well? I know the Old Federation didn't treat their Great War veterans too well."

"The people in Zhangzi aren't treating me differently because of my injury so much as my parentage," he replied, trying his best to navigate a rather sensitive subject for countless reasons emotionally. "My father was a bureaucrat in the clouds, and my mother is part of the Angels, which are seen as aligned with the Russy Federation. Don't worry, though. I will be joining you all in the States soon."

"Well, if anyone gives you any trouble here in the States or anywhere, let me know, and I will be there, my friend."

Fang shrugged.

What went unsaid was the way the Old Federation treated disability. Since the rich were parasites for not working, so were veterans who had suffered severe injuries and couldn't work anymore. In the Old Federation, the idealized worker was the healthy young man or woman who worked with their hands, and the degree to which you differed from that ideal, like someone who had lost their digits in the war, the more marginalized one became. The result of all of this was that many veterans with disabilities were effectively exiled to the outskirts of the Federation, where they were out of sight and out of mind. As Mae Shpigel put it, 'If you were not going to be a productive cog in the machine, you would be tossed aside.'

They went through the rest of the pleasantries, and then Senior Officer Elena 'Elya' Müller started the meeting.

"Operation Diamondbacks continues to be a success," she informed MI15. "Our mole has successfully convinced Richard Diamond that he needs to turn over more and more of his allies to our side in order to 'stay free'. Due to his betrayals, we have secured essential evidence for several ongoing cases as more criminals are apprehended to be tried by the ICC."

We were waiting for the day that Diamond ran out of allies to sacrifice to the altar of justice. He was just too predictable once you got to really know him.

After going through more details on those captures, Elya moved on to the next subject — the next mission for MI15.

"We have several options lined up for you to pick. Your team has first dibs due to seniority, Tanya." It was hard to beat being one of the very first Interpol officers in this world. "Two involve the Francois Republic."

Tanya frowned. She and that country had a history.

"The first case involves the Francois testing of something called an arcanium bomb in Dzayer. Reports indicate 42,000 deaths have occurred, and the region is highly contaminated with a deadly mutation causing mana fluctuations."

Some pictures showed what the bombs were capable of. The tests were a combination of mid-air and subterranean detonations. It was the first many of the MI15 officers present had seen such a weapon, and they exclaimed at what they were seeing. The Republic was the first country known to create such a device.

"What in tarn—"

"Even if they weren't an independent country, this is terrifying!"

"There is no way the Dzayerians approved of that."

A cacophony of voices erupted but went silent quickly as Elya raised her soul's chipped porcelain hand into the air. Tanya was the first to speak.

"The damned frogs just have no respect for national sovereignty," the Germanian war vet simmered. "They initiated a war of aggression against the Fatherland, played the victim, and now they are doing this to the Dzayerians. I lost aunts and uncles to the atomic—"

"Tanya! Stop it right now," Sonnetto interrupted with a glare. "You absolutely have to cease saying things like this. Don't treat countries as monoliths. You know that. Now, what did you learn at the union meeting yesterday."

The reincarnated soul turned away in shame before reciting the key lesson from their officer professional ethics course at the union meeting last night.

"'Collective punishment is a war crime. Don't blame everyone in a country for what their leaders decide. Instead, hold the decision-makers accountable.'"

Tanya knew this already deep down. In her previous life, her corporate training had drilled into the rationale behind the SOX laws, which held management ultimately responsible for controlling fraud and corruption. In her current life, the Great War had emphasized targeting the enemy's leaders. While there was a messy translation between the situations, the throughline focused on those at the top.

But she wasn't the only one who had struggles with revanchist attitudes.

"Sonnetto, what is wrong?" She asked with worry evident on Tanya's face.

"Let's..just keep the meeting going."

Having access to parts of Sonnetto's mind, Tanya could see a simmering rage directed at President Billards of the Republic. Her partner, rather unprofessionally, had a stray thought about the millionaire and his friends dying mysteriously on his fancy yacht for profiteering and terrorism they were doing all across Afrika. Richard Diamond and Emperor Cassander had left an impact on both of their sense of justice, and she started seeing more and more Diamond-like individuals as they received more intel from the duped businessman. One of Sonnetto's thoughts swirled around how blasé people were when the Billards of the world could have leaders assassinated anywhere else in the world other than Europa yet would scream at the injustice if such a thing ever happened to a European leader.

Neither Tanya nor Sonnetto wanted to get involved in extrajudicial justice, but as the ICC and Interpol got more teeth, the institutions could do what the national-level law enforcement systems could not. Hopefully, one day, it wouldn't just be protesting the war crimes of elected leaders but actually holding them accountable for their crimes even during their term in office. Interpol just had to play their cards right to get there.

"May we do a case that does not involve the Francois Republic?" Tanya requested on behalf of her team. She could feel this irked Sonnetto but persisted. "After the Covert Corp case, I think MI15 should stay clear of investigating that country for a while."

"Very well, our next case is also thanks to Diamond giving me intel. The MI15 report, as well as all the journalists reporting on the Silver Legion's activities, has resulted in loud public condemnations of the Legion by several governments throughout the world and followed up by swift and discreet cover-ups of their own crimes to save face. Diamond has informed us of the Albish Colonial Office's massive obstruction of justice scheme called Operation Legacy."

The senior officer conjured an image of a very obvious fire at the Albish Colonial Office in New Delhi, followed by several more discreet operations across the Albish Empire, destroying documents and reports. One such report that was saved indicated a series of excess deaths of 165 million people in Bharat between the years of 1880 and 1920 through targeted famines and suppression activities by the Albish Colonial administrators.

Other documents covered the actions taken to exacerbate the Eirish people's starvation despite the fact they produced more than enough food that was being siphoned off to Albion, as well as countless other suppression activities since then. The result was that the Eirish population was still less today than it had been over a century ago. So thorough was the system of their devastation under Malthusian and landlord rule, whose armed guard took the plentiful food out of the land and who took advantage of the desperation of the Eirish to trade well below market value what little the Eirish had for well above market value what they needed to survive. All of this was justified by letting the invisible hand correct for 'overpopulation'.

"Moving on to the case I can assign to one of my teams is the Colonial Office's suppression of the Mau Mau Uprising in Senya," Elya continued, unphased by the information she already knew.

The retrieved documents Elya displayed of the torture methods, usage of concentration camps, and mass killings made Sonnetto's gut churn. Even Tanya became uncomfortable. There was a reason why she gave the 203rd counterintelligence training besides trying to get them to quit. This time period was rife with similar events, and people needed to be prepared for what lengths the powers at be would take to win in conflicts.

"If we get involved in such a high-profile case, especially after the Museum Heist fiasco, it might go belly up fast," Tanya commented with a bit of exhaustion. "The Commonwealth has already threatened to leave the League of Nations if they are treated 'unfairly'."

"And they plan to make an organization with the other Western European countries called the United Nations, apparently," Elya added neutrally without explaining how she knew that.

"Sounds more like a money-murder-imperialist club to me where they will give themselves veto power so they can never be held accountable again," Sonnetto accidentally let slip out.

Normally, the homunculus didn't have the opportunity to put her blunt outrage on public display like this, and the only way she knew about the veto was because Tanya did.

"As my pa once said," Calamity started as she drew from her family's wisdom. "The people who proudly support the use of the gun when it's pointed at innocent people are also the same people who cry to high heavens in surprise when they find another gun has been pointed back at them."

"I agree with Tanya after considering her words," Elya concluded crisply. "We don't want to agitate a split between the League and Western Europa right now by assigning MI15 to that case. Do you have any ideas about what kind of case you want to focus on?"

Tanya thought about it for a moment, looked at Sonnetto for approval, and then explained her decision.

"Preferably, can I get one involving a socialist country? People think I hate Europa and capitalism due to how my recent cases have been going."

"Very well. I didn't think you would want this case, but it is what we have available right now."

---

Interpol Office in Northern Bharat - 29th of April, 1954

Tanya and her big mouth.

Elya had sent the now much expanded and global in scope MI15 to assist in the investigation of human rights abuses in Northern Bharat, where an absolute powder keg of tensions between various ethnic and religious groups had gone off on a few months prior.

The top brass at the League of Nations wanted MI15 to replicate the reporting techniques we used during the Silver Legion report on Bharat. Our objectives were to bring culprits to justice, provide remedial justice to the victims, identify the root causes of the outbreak of violence, and prescribe effective solutions. Wading through highly partisan reports made creating a coherent narrative that would meet our objectives needed a completely different approach than what we used in the Silver Legion Report. There was not as relatively obvious a delineation between victims, perpetrators, and bystanders as there had been in the Silver Legion. There were several centuries of historical tensions here, and new grievances were piling up unevenly on every side each day. For example, the partisan reporting sometimes depicted the Legalists as the remnants of a previous imperial invasion who needed to be ousted like the Albish or sometimes as the victims of the dominant culture oppressing them.

How far into the past do we litigate? How much should historical rights matter over the material reality of tragedy faced by those being targeted?

I needed to lean on my team a lot for help in this case because these questions were far beyond what my two halves could comprehend without checks on their biases. I turned first to Investigator Fred Wei Ho.

"Okay, I am struggling to follow what is going on in Bharat here," I stated as I parsed through reports on the complex sectarian spiral of violence.

"Well, you know how the preamble of their constitution says that Bharat is a secular socialist democracy?" Fred Wei Ho inquired rhetorically.

I nodded.

"Well, the country is not secular, or socialist, or democratic."

In other words, the current state of affairs was filled with chauvinistic, profit-seeking, and oligarchic currents.

"Okay, Fred, but what are the causes of the problem," I replied as I tried to dig deeper into this complex problem. "I am a woman who wants to go straight to the core of the issue."

"At least in part, Gandhi's legacy."

"Okay, one, you are going to have to explain that to me. Second, we can't blame Gandhi for contributing to this situation in the slightest. The entire world will ridicule us, and we will create the wrong impression about the purpose of Interpol's interventions here."

"That is exactly the problem!" Fred threw his hands in the air, nearly knocking Jing-wei, another new teammate, over in his show of exasperation. "We can't blame his legacy for any unforeseen consequences it caused. He is too sacrosanct."

"Ugh, I think I understand the problem," I groaned. "We had the same problem with Martin Bishop in the States. These charismatic guys, as inspiring as their speeches might be, create a mythology around themselves that basically deifies them as the embodiment of the movement and the good."

"Which makes them above criticism," Masquerade added, adjusting his mask to cover his face better.

"And allows for prejudices to get cemented in that 'good'," Calamity followed up. "Well, I reckon this is going to be pretty bad. Obviously, one person can't take all the blame for anything that happened, but what did Gandhi actually do that contributed to this situation where we got shootouts and police rounding up Legalists for mass killings and all sorts of horrible, no-good things?"

"Well, it mostly has to deal with inserting a massive amount of religion and religious symbology into their nationalist movement for independence," Fred answered after apologizing to Jing-wei.

"Okay…."

"Despite the hero's sincere statements of the equality of all religions, his foregrounding of his faith constantly has indirectly made one religion more symbolic of national identity over others."

"Ahhh."

"And then there is his threat to fast to death if the country gets rid of the caste system or gives the 'untouchables' a separate electorate. He cemented into the post-colonial government that 'the hereditary principle as the eternal principle' and that 'to change it is to create disorder.' As we all know, dividing people between inferior and superior human beings is actually the source of disorder and violence that we are seeing everywhere such rigid hierarchies are implemented."

Fred had made a good point, in my opinion; however, it wasn't just ethnicity, caste, and religion that violently divided society.

Gender violence was also a severe issue that carried a legacy from the founders of Bharat's government. A few times, our team needed to negotiate an escort by an armed contingent of a local Tanechkist women's organization just to feel safe despite that group being labeled terrorists by the state. Again, the double-edged sword of mages not being legally able to defend themselves against non-mages in most cases made navigating the gut-wrenching realities of gender violence incredibly precarious. There were also non-mages on my team now.

Fred could only provide so much insight, so I needed more perspectives. I turned to Fang Shiyu, who often had a more traditional Wheelist perspective.

"Fang, I am having trouble understanding this report involving a few Bharat leaders sleeping naked with various women."

The young man lifted his wooden and metallic magetech prosthetic hand to his chin and tugged on a small beard he had been growing out.

"Well, I think their goal is to say that 'if I can resist temptation, so can you' from what I heard," he replied after looking at the document I passed him.

"And if the woman doesn't want to be part of the man testing his will?" I countered.

Fang didn't have a response to that. It wasn't something he had considered. A lot of his worldview focused on resisting temptations, but in a world in which women were temptations, their suffering was excused as 'understandable failures'.

"There has to be a better way than men gritting their teeth and women being modest to deal with the problem of gender violence," I groaned as I flipped through more reports while one of my four arms doodled absent-mindedly to ease my stress. Both Tanya and Sonnetto feared what could happen to them or their teammates anywhere in the world. During the Great War, Visha had more than once intervened to protect Tanya, who could be clueless about her vulnerabilities in various contexts. "Calamity, what's your opinion?"

"Well, you know I come from the American South," she replied. "Fighting for women is as ancient as slavery. The first time men took me seriously was the first time I took up a rifle. Power speaks more loudly than anything, and a gun takes a life as easily when a woman uses it as when a man does."

That was similar to the Tanechkist feminist's thoughts as well. Calamity took a moment to appreciate some silence as her words sunk in with the crowd around her. Despite leaving out the fact she also had innate magic, her words reflected the reality on the ground that they had been seeing.

"However, the frontier was a different time," she continued. "There wasn't a lot of law enforcement out there, and tanks and modern computation orbs hadn't been created. The DeCons [Democratic Confederates] back home can keep up the tradition of women's militias that kind of work when you aren't dealing with large-scale industrial military equipment. In more centralized situations like this, you need the state to be an extension of the will to protect everybody, including women. People need to feel the threat of retribution if they wrongly hurt anybody. The only reason why people take up arms to defend themselves is because they don't trust the gun of the state to be on their side."

Basically, one had to democratize law enforcement in a world where people wanted to live in a functional state that could more efficiently defend against imperial invasions. What that actually meant would be a complex issue to assign to the policy wonks who would synthesize the community voices we funneled into our report.

On the topic of women's militias, the DeFeds [Democratic Federationists] actually had them, too, and I had joined the one in Bde Óta Othúŋwe. It was fun for Tanya to teach people how to operate as an effective unit again. A women's militia wasn't an armed group of only women but rather a woman-inclusive group committed to the idea of a society without gender violence. Tanya remembered how many women in Germania had been forced into sex trafficking by the ring clubs that controlled a black market of food people needed to survive after the Great War. She wasn't about to let that happen again.

The people in Abya Yala also had no illusions that the Commonwealth would sit idly by as a new superpower arose that wasn't loyal to the imperialist powers in Europa. Even without the highly urban and industrialized East Coast that made up the current Unified States, Abya Yala had a lot of industrial power of its own and a massive amount of agriculture. Our West Coast kept us connected with Zhangzi and the Russy Federation, and we had forged tight partnerships with Central and South America, who appreciated having an anti-imperialist powerhouse in the region.

As for Bharat, it had joined the Non-Alignment Movement and did not take kindly to women's militias, which wouldn't have been necessary in a world in which women were safe. The modesty expectations and ascetic approaches weren't working. People needed to feel secure, or a group would come in to serve that unmet need. That was empathy-based market mechanisms at work.

There were a lot more things to think about here, so I called on our second new member of the now-global MI15.

"Jing-wei, what do you think about the situation we are tackling here in Bharat?"

"Well, I don't know how much this translates. As you all know, I left Zhangzi when General Secretary Tao consolidated power there. Just like Bharat nationalism became Gandhi and Gandhi nationalism, communism was Tao, and Tao was communism in my homeland. The General Secretary kicked out, imprisoned, or killed all the Angels, seasoned technocrats, and people who weren't fiercely loyal to his vision like we who were loyal to the Emperor."

"General Secretary Tao sounds awful like a Dzhugashvili 2.0 to me," Masquerade commented. "But Gandhi very much did not take the same path as Dzhugashvili."

"You are right in some respects, but let me finish this detour," Jing-wei replied as she floated around to proudly give the findings of her investigation. "Tao, like Dzhugashvili, was grappling with rampant sectarianism. He wanted to unite our country while it was in crisis, and his cultural revolution is his plan to do that."

"Yeah, but that 'my way or the highway' thinking results in a lot of plum-dumb policy decisions that can kill countless people," Calamity opined as she leaned back into her chair and fought an urge to put her feet on the table. The chairs they had were pretty comfy, and the table was lower to the ground than American ones. "You can't just make everyone think the same way, and I abhor using violence to make that happen."

"You know I am not a fan of Tao, who was ousted from the Emperor's side," Jing-wei said as she pointed at her report. "Okay. How about this issue on page two? As you can see, we have a leadership nepotism problem in Bharat, too. Just like Zhangzi has the Long Marchers loyal to Tao and their 'princeling' children taking a large portion of the leadership cadre, Bharat has a lot of politicians and business people using family names and ties as well as leveraging caste to get into positions of power."

In essence, an aristocracy of revolutionary leadership and those in the preexisting upper castes were formed. It was an issue in almost every post-revolutionary government, including the early Unified States that spurned its more radical Thomas Payne and institutionalized planter aristocracy that subordinated women, excluded the landless from voting, and enslaved a whole class of people. All of that is based on the fiction that some people are superior to other people and, therefore, deserve more political power, autonomy, and rights. Fighting against that fiction had resulted in a bloody civil war, which I ideally did not want to happen in Bharat.

Thinking about the Zhangzi situation specifically, I saw a huge issue in how its new government allowed people to hold multiple positions simultaneously, which one could and inevitably abuse to commit fraud, issue misleading reports, consolidate power, and become a dictator. It was Internal Controls 101 that did not allow that to happen. The lack of effective controls in Old Federation copycats gave the Iron Law of Oligarchy free reign to generate out-of-control, power-tripping dictators. I blame their contrarian governmental structures and their naive trust in their fellow working class for believing they didn't need the innovations of modern governments to prevent corrupt dictatorships. It was like thinking that if a person merely socialized their farm, it would make that leader above the corruption of wealth and a safe person to entrust ruling the entire country, which just so happens to include the now state-owned farm.

That being said, Bharat did not follow the ML model of a socialist state. Hence, hammering the issue of the tone from the top would only be part of the story. Structural differences between their governments had borne themselves out through meaningfully different corruption issues throughout the levels of Bharat's government compared to other socialist countries, as evidenced in our findings.

Still, I would have to tackle the issue of the charismatic leader, as Agent Ho recommended. Situations like these were why living saints and god-like figures were such a problem. No one was perfect, even Gandhi. Just as dehumanizing people as 'Untouchables' causes horrors, so does dehumanizing people as saintly heroes can create horrors too. Living, in reality, depended on grappling with the very human limits of our understanding. The abstraction of Heroes creates this unreality that some people are above such limits, and following them will also bring us out of our human limits. It also excused consolidating power into a superhuman persona who 'had all the answers'.

'Honestly, everyone should be forced to meet their heroes like I have had in this life. It is very eye-opening,' Tanya commented wryly.

Much coffee was had as we planned our arrests of suspected mages under our jurisdiction and wrote our report. In many ways, the report resembled audit opinion but of a country instead of a public corporation. It details organizational best practices, identifies material weaknesses in internal controls, and diving into cases of fraud, governmental malpractice, and crimes against humanity, which I wished countries and corporations would not do. We just had to word our report way more carefully than Fred or Calamity would in order to be heard.

Luckily, my Tanya half had plenty of experience with delicately worded emails in her past life. I needed to do lots of writing and compiling my team's reports as well as those of the local experts that night. I would just have to make sure I didn't bury the message too deep in indirect language.

'Wait, we are not doing it this way,' Sonnetto interrupted, disharmonizing my thoughts. 'We can't just go from championing a thorough and honest investigation of the Silver Legion's crimes to beating around the bush here, honey.'

'That's because it is easy to criticize the Silver Legion,' Tanya claimed from her mental workstation. 'We don't have to convince the Silver Legion that what they did was wrong. Just the public.'

'Obviously, it is easier to tell people that others were the villains in the story. We all know one likes being told they are wrong, but someone has to say it.'

'Sonnetto, are you, perchance, a bit biased here?'

'If standing up for the victims is wrong, then I don't mind being wrong.'

'Sonnetto, I can feel your rage. I literally know how you feel and how it is affecting me, too, but we have to be pragmatic here. We can't just get polemical.'

'We also can't be moderate when it comes to justice,' the white-haired officer challenged with some fire in her crimson eyes.

'And if that justice results in us not only being unheard but diminishing our ability to do justice in the future by creating a rift between Interpol and this massive country, then what? We get the shallow satisfaction of feeling morally superior while accomplishing nothing?'

'Tanya, do you have a solution that will allow our report to be taken seriously, elevate the unheard to the heard so the harm is front and center, and not cause tensions to rise to impossible-to-manage levels? Because right now, I think you are the biased one. Biased by your fear of the rejection and condemnation of others, which prevents you from taking the actions you should.'

I could feel a headache coming as my two halves had one of their rare fights. Each had some firmly held opinions about religion, confrontation, and politics. They didn't hate each other for their differences. In fact, they had a long history of challenging each other, hence how Tanya would write her responses to Sonnetto copious journals when they were still two individuals.

In the end, they decided on a compromise of having a thorough, more direct account that made clear what the injustice was, like what Sonnetto preferred. Still, they thoroughly checked for biases from their various sources to avoid having glaring ignorance there that would be immediately dismissed, which soothed Tanya's ever-present fears of causing retaliation if her very human limits and flaws became visible. The result was a 'truth to power' synthesis.

One did not need to lean on polemics when the facts spoke for themselves. Political posturing can hide reality, but putting that reality in people's faces tore through the rhetoric and got things moving in a direction that stopped the violence. That was why the reporting on the Blacks and Tans' gross abuses of power in Eirland had shamed the Albish government into disbanding the RIC. Tanya wanted reality-based solutions that did not lean on unreliable emotions, and Sonnetto wanted justice-based solutions that did not understate the harm done to the marginalized. They both believed their new approach reasonably might accomplish that.

With the report disagreement settled, they got back to work.

'You know what I like most about our new body?' Tanya commented.

'Other than how cool we look?' Sonnetto replied with a smirk while cuddling with her love in soul space.

'Well, yes, and then some, but I am being more practical.'

'Okay, what is so nice about how we look?'

'We have these four arms. It is just like having multiple monitors again. Two hands can type while two hands can hold up reports or get coffee without interrupting our flow.'

'That takes a lot of focus and multitasking,' Sonnetto pointed out, rubbing her chin on Tanya's head.

'Well, we can do it together, obviously. We have both been working on these cases.'

'Can we get two paychecks then?'

"Not doing that because it causes too many legal headaches. Been there, done that."

'Putting that aside, why don't we celebrate tonight?' the white-haired officer made of soul-stuff suggested while flitting her hand through Tanya's hair. 'We are both stressed and should take some leisure time.'

Well, I knew I wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. However, there was only so much a person who was also two could do, which brought back another issue to my mind.

'Should we try dating someone else?' Tanya asked. She had brought it up before when they were checking out the local GLBT scene in Bde Óta Othúŋwe.

'I… I still need more time to think about it,' Sonneto replied. While they both shared in each other's feelings, the woman who liked to paint cared about the emotional side of relationships. She didn't want to rush into relationships, especially with Tanya being still on the mend from what the Silver Legion had done to her.

Myself, Sonata... I… I would have to wait until my mind was in agreement.

Meanwhile, we all tried to relax and have a good night. I played around with my Mandate powers to change my form a little bit. Like putting on make-up without a mirror, it was easy to mess it up. My Tanya half kept getting worried that people would notice a change and then judge me for what I did with my form.

---

Bde Óta Othúŋwe, Democratic Federation of Abya Yala - 15th of May, 1954

Our friends' children gathered around the television as a Charlie Laplin movie played in the background.


View: https://youtu.be/J7GY1Xg6X20?si=RrLfMtBT1xOAd4el

"Dinner will be made shortly," Visha called out as I started placing plates and dishes on the table.

Two kids running through me were playing around the house. By through me, I meant literally through me. Having limited no collision on command had its benefits, especially when you didn't want to drop the pot of ghormeh sabzi all over the floor, which those kids just tracked mud through.

"I got it," Matheus stated as he got a towel and got to cleaning up the mess. The neighbor apologized and got the children to put their shoes outside.

One thing led to another that evening. Dinner was had. We celebrated a birthday, singing Tavalod. Through this all, I felt happy. Paradise was other people, I thought as I glanced around the table.

There was still much to do. There was an empty chair next to Calamity where Mary Canary should be sitting. We still needed to find a way to bring her home without disrupting the delicate power balance between Europa and the Russy Federation.

As I sat there, passing the time away, telling stories to all those who could listen, I felt a familiar tug from my connection with Elya.

According to her, the situation with Himmler was still in the air depending on who the President of Germania awarded the chancellorship. Our Silver Legion report had damaged the credibility of fascist movements, including the national socialists in Germania. Elya liberally leaned on my White Silver identity behind closed doors with my permission to help lobby things away from disaster.

The worst-case scenario was I had to go into Europa and repeat what I had done with the Silver Legion. With Europa more united than ever, that could not only result in WWII breaking out between Western Europa and their many enemies but also in the first time arcanium bombs were used for war, which would likely be at the start of the conflict. What does one do to stop Himmler if he gets his hands on functional arcanium bombs? How does Interpol hold any leader accountable if they have weapons of mass destruction?

I absolutely wanted to avoid getting into the habit of tapping into the full potential of my powers to do regime changes. The reason was not so much the temptation of power, but the fact that it would both make the world fear me too much, put me in a position where my peaceful life was gone once again, and cede more of my individuality to the will of the masses. I also had no desire to be emperor of the world.

After dinner, we went to the park. It was still light out and the children wanted to play some more.

Nearby, I laid down on a folding chair, slightly away from the rest of the group. There, I found my balance between my need for space to think as myself and my need to be with others in their lives. A stand had some water for me to drink and James Baldwin's new book Giovanni's Room. Calamity Amb hummed the iconic melody of All Men Are Brothers, occasionally singing the lyrics in either Albish or Germanian as her long strides carried her quickly from task to task around the picnic area.

Before me was a scene of peace with my coworkers, family, and neighbors, which was my kind of paradise. This was only possible with other people, and you couldn't be with others if you stood above them. A dog came up to play with me that reminded me of Rudersdorf's massive St. Benard, and as I ruffled its ears, Elya sent me another message from across the globe.

'Sonata, I just got word. It's finally time. No one is left but him.'

Well, my long-time friend and current superior delivered once again.

---

A Warehouse in Western Persia - 22nd of May, 1954

Ding. Scratch. Scratch. Ding.

Richard Diamond frowned. His last can of fruit did not have a bit of sweet sustenance left. Without his allies, who had all been turned into the mysterious Sally W., he was flummoxed. How does a rich person get food without buying it?

Looking around his warehouse of computations orbs, he had a fortune of weapons but a lack of food. Perhaps he could negotiate for some more grub from that Saddam-Something that Diamond was giving arms to in exchange for ousting the communist puppet from Western Persia. He wasn't exactly sure how the poors got food, given how they couldn't function without geniuses like him to organize them. Sometimes, Diamond wondered how they even breathed without a rich person reminding them to.

The businessman had been in Western Persia for quite a while. He was working with some goons he hired to assist with the CIA's mission to destroy independent democracy wherever it dared to sprout in the Middle East. Kermit Hoosevelt's strategy of arming the much preferable theocratic fascists had worked in East Persia, and the CIA had decided to continue such projects in Western Persia on behalf of the Silver Legion's government-in-exile.

Diamond had even lost twenty pounds, roughing it out in what he believed was called the Bactria region. Now that superabundance had made the poors fat, thin was back in for the rich. The man was sure that he would get applauded for losing weight by his friends if he had any.

His unpaid intern for life [the Oracle] in the corner sat there smiling like he had seen something wonderful.

"Oracle, what is my future?" Diamond inquired. "And stop smiling like that. It creeps me out."

The Divinity of Time just smiled on. "The Diamond shall get what he most deserves, and one you have oft-praised and royalty shall deliver it to you."

That sounded good.

Suddenly, one of his hired goons came in, tugging on the arm of some woman in his arms.

"Hey, Boss," the thug shouted. "I found this little koni snooping around. What do you want me to do with her?"

Diamond turned away from one of the crates containing a tri-core computation orb and went up to see the woman. She was a mutt.

He towered over the woman. His thin shoulders and lithe build made Diamond not much of a brawler. That was what he had thugs for.

"So what is an alloyed poor like you doing here?" Diamond questioned snidely.

The thug grabbed her chin and directed her attention to him. With a better look at her, the tall entrepreneur could not see anything remarkable about her. She was neither someone he knew nor some blue-blooded royal. He would know. He had met most of them at some point.

The woman did not respond to their provocations.

"What? Are you deaf and dumb?"

Again, she did respond. Her expression seemed almost bored, as if she felt absolutely no danger in the situation. Instead, her unremarkable brown eyes took in the room. Her mouth moved as if she were talking, but no sound came out. Then, Diamond could barely feel a faint mana pulse as she locked on the crate with the tri-core. Her mouth turned ever so slightly into a smile.

"That isn't—"

Before Diamond could finish, Persian, Zhangzi, and Federation MI officers burst into the warehouse.

The man toppled backward and sprained his wrist as he hit the ground hard. It was like the whole world had crashed down upon him. Without a weapon and his thugs being quickly apprehended, Diamond felt the measly power of being just one man.

The Oracle got up and left with the agents that had come to his rescue. The South Afrikan knew all of this was coming. Sally W., Ramona Mercer, and the Oracle had set him up, leading him with carrot and stick into a trap. But how? This was not how the world worked. This was not how this story was supposed to happen.

The mysterious woman, who could have been anyone, stood at his side. She was speaking to him, but her words were still completely inaudible. Her words could have been anything.

What the tycoon did know was that this was the end.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Book One Timeline of Relevant Events:

• 1930s
  • Europa:
    • The Great War ended with the Germanian Empire receiving a conditional surrender, which included the Kaiser stepping down.
    • Visha rejects Tanya's confession of love, and Matheus adopts the young former commander into his family, who teaches her how to program computation orbs.
    • Tanya, Visha, and Elya form a Freikorp (mercenary group) to keep the 'peace' as Germania creates its new government. Agent Nichts is Tanya's way of pretending to be the perfect law enforcement mercenary. Together, they stop the January Uprising and the putsch of the Kaiser's Men.
    • Tanya accidentally kills a brainwashed Warren Grantz, with whom Visha was engaged. Visha and Tanya go their separate ways. Matheus gets brainwashed but is trapped in that state as the hypnotist responsible, Figmund Sreud, goes into hiding.
    • Shortly after Germania reformed its government, Hans von Zettour, Elya, and Tanya worked together to create Interpol to go after rogue mages, organized crime, and terrorist groups.
  • Middle East
    • The Mandate of Power, Alexander Magnus, goes on a war of conquest, claiming most of Arabia and Persia for Magna Rumeli.
    • Alexander takes the Bactria Princess Roxanne for his first wife and bears with her a child, which he names after himself.
  • Americas
    • The Silver Legion takes power in the Unified States and quickly restructures the country into a fascist plutocracy.
    • The prison population in the Unified States balloons, and the country starts systematically targeting socialists, communists, and other anti-plutocrat radical groups.
    • The other countries in the Americas started having to aggressively resist the oligarch-controlled CIA and monopolists, which have begun instigating profit-driven regime changes.
    • American weapon manufacturer Richard Diamond kidnaps the family of the Mandate of Beginnings, Mary Canary.
• 1940s
  • Middle East
    • Richard Diamond uses Mary Canary's family as leverage to get her to kill Emperor Alexander when he is in one of his regular cursed moments of weakness.
    • The Rumelian Cassander assassinates Empress Roxanne, her mother-in-law, and her son during the chaos in order to seize power in Magna Rumeli.
    • The US and Europa balkanizes the Middle East. Laurence "Masquerade" Drake assists the nationalists in their struggle for independence, but only for that movement to be betrayed by the Albish and Francois leaders.
    • Cassander issues a red notice to get the Mages of Interpol to stop human experiments being conducted by one of his political rivals. There, the Interpol officer Tanya unwittingly finds the reanimated corpse of Empress Roxanne, who gains consciousness due to Tanya's still unknown Mandate of the Self. Tanya dubs this new person Sonnetto and invites her to live with her in Germania, where they live together.
  • Afrika
    • Francois Dzayer revolts against the Francois Republic, leading to a brutal and bloody conflict.
  • Asia
    • Zhangzi makes headway in expelling the foreign Uruan Dynasty and Akinese invaders with help from the Russy Federation and Tanechka's Angels. The three major Zhangzi liberation factions are the imperialists, nationalists, and communists. The Red Turban faction under Zhu Chongba is victorious but his hold over Zhangzi is very weak.
    • Fang Shiyu escapes Zhangzi because a martial artist and his followers are out to kill him. He eventually joins the Mages of Interpol in order to improve his martial arts ability.
• The Main part of the Story (1950s onward with chapter titles)
  • The Germanian Candidate - Amber "Calamity" Canary joins the Mages of Interpol to flee the Silver Legion and not be forced to assist in fascist violence. The Mages of Interpol 15 (MI15) defeat Figmund Sreud and free Matheus from his hypnotic trance.
  • Tanechka's Angels - Masquerade flubs a mission involving stopping communist propagandists known as Angels who are trying to expose the Albish Empire by targeting the Albish Royal Museum. The Commonwealth suspects MI15 are not loyal to Europa.
  • Woman on Fire - Liliya Ivanova Tanechka uses the release negotiations of her Angels to force Interpol to investigate Francois Republic's war crimes in Dzayer, particularly involving a Covert Corp paramilitary group. One thing leads to another, and Tanya's Mandate powers start to manifest more visibly.
  • Silver is Forever, so Die Another Day - Richard Diamond and Mary Canary kidnap Tanya, who escapes but without her Type-95 (good riddance).
  • Doctor Jones and the Search for La Destripadora - After pissing off the Francois Republic, MI15 decides it's best to go on a workcation around the world. Their first stop is Argentum, where they meet a Mandate named Khuyana Gonzalez, who becomes their friend by the end of the trip. Tanya, however, fully transforms into her soul form, which reflects a mix of Japanese and Germanian origins.
  • The Hustle at the Zhangzi Showdown - Richard Diamond orchestrates a situation in order to isolate Emperor Zhu and Empress Ma from outside help and to get the US a foothold in the country.
  • Gone with the Snow (it gets far more complicated from here on)
    • Richard Diamond has the Red Guard and Zhangzi Nationalists attempt to assassinate Emperor Zhu. His real goal is to get Empress Ma to hand over Zhangzi to a US puppet.
    • The Angel Demiguichi Akira stops Empress Ma before that can happen, instead transferring power to the Popular Front faction.
    • Mary Canary kills Avgust Zimin, the Mandate of Change. Now she is burdened by not only the memories of Avgust and Alexander, but the influence of their souls and the curses of their mandates.
    • Tanya and Sonnetto fuse into Sonata for the first time.
  • Kaines' Second Chance
    • Evan Jude Kaines learns from American socialists that the Unified States plans on eventually invading Europa. He uses this information to get the Commonwealth to start working against the Unified States.
  • In a Legion of All Her Own
    • Calamity flees to Zhangzi to escape being deported to the Unified States and receive treatment to make her ageless body mature into an adult.
    • Fang goes to Zhangzi to support MI12 and protect his friend, Emperor Zhu.
    • Masquerade goes into hiding because the Allied Kingdom knows he and his girlfriend have become compromised.
    • Cassander takes Sonnetto and uses her to become Emperor of Western Persia with the Unified States.
    • Tanya gets arrested by Mary Sue, and Tanya gets given to the Unified States, which brainwashes her into being their weapon of mass destruction and goddess to keep the populists in check.
    • Mary Canary and her family are handed over to the Commonwealth.
  • When Power Comes at the End of a Gun
    • The Unified States had a socialist revolution overthrowing the Silver Legion.
    • President Yockey escapes before the Silver Legion's government collapses.
    • Sonnetto almost dies, so Tanya permanently fuses with her to save her soul. Their fusion form, Sonata, wields the Mandates of Purpose and Self. She assists with the revolution in so far as she is acting as an Interpol officer with a grudge.
  • It Ends with the Truth
    • Sonata, Matheus, and Calamity move to the Democratic Federation of Abya Yala (formerly the western portion of the Unified States) because Germania is becoming increasingly fascist.
    • MI15 wrote a report on the Silver Legion emphasizing what fascism is in order to influence the world to steer away from it.
    • MI15 has become a globally focused team and has expanded its membership to include non-mage field agents.
    • Though Dzayer has gotten its independence, the leaders of the Francois Republic have decided to test its new superweapon - the arcanium bomb - in southern Dzayer. The Francois Republic has become the first country to develop weapons of mass destruction. Note that Mandates are functionally superweapons as well.
    • Germania's election leaves no clear party in charge. President Ropen of Germania has to decide who the next chancellor will be, and his decision could affect the entire world.
    • Sonata and Interpol finally bring Richard Diamond and his allies to justice.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

The Democratic Federation of Abya Yala (and the World Federation movement)

Military:

• Centralized military following siege socialist pragmatism in regards to preparing for armed conflict with Europa.
• Citizen Militias are encouraged while Europa-funded rebel groups try to get a foothold in the country.

Economy:

• Dual-Track Pricing
  • Federal and state governments set quotas for essential goods but allow socially owned firms to sell goods at international market prices.
• Farming Co-ops
  • Individual families are trained to maintain and use heavy farm machinery for their communities.
  • Families work together on each of their assigned lots throughout the year.
  • The federal government sends experts out to communities to provide advice on best agricultural practices and to hear from the community about their innovations so that other communities may learn, too.
  • The federal government advises on what crops are most advantageous to produce under current market conditions, but farmers can pick their crops for themselves.
• State-Owned Enterprises
  • Mostly in the military, natural resources, housing, healthcare, and agriculture
  • It was relatively easy to transition to the socialist model because these industries were already market-controlling monopolies under the Silver Legion's plutocratic economy.
• Worker councils for most firms and small businesses. Individual ownership of small shops is allowed if there are no employees.
• Major Economic Struggles
  • Commodity Obsession - with people's needs met, people's wants have become their needs. Even though mass transportation is more ecological and cost-effective, everyone wants cars.
  • Essential Good Ratcheting - the price of power, healthcare, and high-quality housing cannot be increased without popular protest, even if the federal government's budget struggles to maintain them at historical prices.
  • Rural-Urban Divide - Attracted by lifestyles afforded to urban professionals, there is a demographic shift towards big cities. This leaves regions left aside for farming co-opts with insufficient population. Reforms to stop this migration are highly contentious, as locking people down in farming communities would create a class division between farmers and urbanites.
  • Managing Incentives and Worker Discipline - with people more free to pursue their own projects and unmotivated to work longer hours without greater incentives, people slack off, and the worker councils are rife with time sheet fraud and conspiracy. Reforms to address these problems have leaned more toward promoting commodity markets and adding more performance-driven incentives and hierarchical structures to worker councils.
  • Sanctions and adverse economic actions from imperialist countries (discussed more in the international relations section).

Government Structure:

• Governing Ideology - World Federadationism
  • It seeks to put the entire world in a single international socialist framework.
  • This ideology attempts to solve nation-state wars by eventually unifying the entire world, and it is contrasted with democratic confederalism, which sees breaking down nation-states into autonomous townships as the superior solution.
  • It sees its government as modular, where new member states can join it freely without coercion.
• Bicameral Central Legislature
  • Resides over the whole Democratic Federation
  • The People's House is a citizen's assembly (sortition) that advises and votes on policy as well as holds the Senate and administrative agencies accountable. Stakeholders for region-specific policies can be added to subcommittees to assist with deliberations.
  • The Senate is composed of the Founders' Party members, technocrats, and representatives of the regional workers' council. The Senate also contains the heads of central administrative agencies.
• Regional Governments
  • They must abide by the Central Legislature and World Federationist governing philosophy but otherwise have discretion for their regions.
  • The Democratic Federation of Abya Yala will become a regional government when another region joins.
• Democratic Confederation
  • These are autonomous townships that freely associate with one another.
  • They mostly consist of minor nationalities and adherents to non-statist ideologies like libertarianism, primitivism, and anarchism.
  • They have robust community militias and have protections from the overreach of the Democratic Federation.
  • The Democratic Federation committed to investing in autonomous zones related to historically marginalized and wronged populations, providing material support in building up infrastructure and industry while letting the community lead in how that support is utilized. The goal is to reach parity.
  • The Federation includes those in the Confederation in decision-making even though the federation is mostly uninvolved in the confederation.
  • Tensions exist over when and how the Federation can get involved if a Confederation township commits crimes against humanity and other gross moral ills.

International Relations (includes movements, not just nation-states):

• The Pan-Afrikan Movement
  • This is most closely aligned with the Abya Yala model of World Federationism. There is a belief that joining forces with Abya Yala will create a major counterweight to imperialism.
  • The Francois Republic gaining arcanium bomb capabilities has made major changes in the world balance perilous as the Francois Republic has invested interest in keeping its CFA-Franc zone under its thumb.
  • The Francois Republic has artificially balkanized its Afrikan holdings and required them to negotiate individually instead of collectively in order to maintain dominance in the region, but this also means that there aren't many organic cultural-linguistic nation-states in the continent, further supporting the Pan-Afrikan Movement.
• The Aztec Republic and Mayan Democratic Confederation
  • Unlike the Democratic Federation of Abya Yala, the Aztec Republic (formerly the Empire) has a hostile relationship with its own Democratic Confederation faction.
  • The Aztec Republic has traumas related to the Silver Legion's genocides in their region and fears joining the World Federation will force them to grant greater autonomy and return more land to the Mayans.
  • The country works as the middleman for most trade between Abya Yala and the socialist side of the world, and it leverages that role to reap enormous benefits through massive tariffs and negotiation power.
  • They received large reparations from the Unified States and some from Abya Yala, which sees itself as needing to share the burden of the guilt of what happened to the Aztecs.
• Anti-Revisionist Marksist-Levinists (MLs) and Marksist-Levinist-Taoists (MLTs)
  • MLs and MLTs are most prevalent in most of the world outside of Europa and Afrika.
  • They have too many differences with World Federationists to get along unless they have a common enemy. They both see the other as the lesser evil to capitalism, imperialism, and fascism.
  • These groups are typically more culturally conservative than World Federationists, particularly on women's rights and GLBT issues. They see the urban cosmopolitan progressivism of World Federationists as bourgeois. These ideologies focused primarily on economic rights and national independence rather than social realities.
  • MLs and MLTs lean stronger towards nationalism not only as a praxis of revolution but also as a way of measuring escaping imperialism and establishing self-sufficiency. In contrast, internationalism is seen as too prone to liberal betrayal and movement disintegration as revolutionary energies go in too many directions.
  • MLs and MLTs tend towards monoculturalism, which can cause what started as a national independence movement to turn into suppressing ethnic minorities within their new nation-states.
• Tanechkists (including Demiguichists and the Angels as a whole)
  • Their organizations exist as the feminist alternative to the masculine-dominated ML and MLT organizations.
  • Yalans tend to find working with Tanechkists much more palatable to their ML and MLT cousins.
  • Tanechkists have effective strategies to access hard-to-reach communities due to splitting the social front from the armed insurgency, which gives communities a face not associated with the violent aspects of the revolution.
  • They are much better at humanizing socialist causes to liberal audiences who lack a lot of the historical and social contexts behind why these movements have such momentum. In other words, they emphasize winning the narrative war with imperialist media, which strives to sanitize and justify its terrorizing of communities across the world. Tanechkists strive to get not only domestic populations but also the imperialist military to turn against imperial projections of oppression.
  • Imperialist countries have become extremely hostile to the Angels' propaganda and have implemented practices to keep their soldiers focused on completing the missions assigned to them without becoming disenchanted or persuaded.
• Francois Republic and Commonwealth
  • They barely recognize Abya Yala, encouraging both armed insurrection against the World Federation government as well as the reunification with the Eastern Unified States.
  • These two countries imposed illegal sanctions on the fledgling country, and the Albish Empire used the Royal Navy to blockade some of its major ports. Much of the Silver Legion's navy was seized by the Albish Empire along with the Pacific bases without Abya Yala's ability even to negotiate that point.
  • There is a brewing proxy conflict over Kuba, where the Francois Republic and Albish Empire intend to put a military base. The Tanechkist Angels have discovered plans that Francois Republic wants to develop an arcanium missile and silo it on Kuba as a way to encourage Abya Yala to become an exploitable private equity market again.
  • Abya Yala has reasonably large strategic oil reserves and produces most of the commodities and cash crops that Europa wants. The loss of these has created shock waves in Europa, which has to balance between public outcry to regain access to preferred American goods and a strategic desire to crush a potential socialist superpower that could not only pull Afrika out from under them but suffocate capitalism out of existence by preventing imperial trade relations.
• Zhangzi and the Russy Federation
  • Neither had a navy to challenge the Albish Empire, which had become incredibly powerful after seizing most of the US naval assets, including bases. This greatly reduces the amount of support they can give their ally through the Aztec Republic.
  • Zhangzi is focused on recovering from the massive death toll from the second Zhangzi-Akinese War. The Albish Empire began expanding military bases on the Akitsuhima Dominion and Formosa, boxing in Zhangzi, forcing the country to be isolated as famines started to take place.
  • The Russy Federation is spread thin from supporting Brotskyists in Argentum and Ispagnia to feeding the starving people in Zhangzi to its own domestic struggles. The decentralization programs under Ivan Smirnov's predecessor, Brotsky, made the Federation less organized at dealing with emerging threats but more efficient locally.
  • The Russy Federation and Zhangzi have growing tensions as the former to weigh its commitment to Zhangzi, and the latter obviously will take it very personally if their Russy allies leave them in the lurch; however, Abya Yala's massive agricultural output allows it to send large amounts of food supplies to Zhangzi, preventing a permanent split occurring.
  • There is a strong desire to get Zhangzi's industrial base off the ground as fast as possible to help shove the Albish Empire back for all of them.
• Arabia, Persia, and Magna Rumeli
  • Since Europa is also stretched thin and doesn't have the military-industrial base to hold back the Red Wave everywhere, the communist movement in Magna Rumeli and the nationalist movements across Arabia and Persia have been widely successful.
  • While they cannot help Abya Yala directly, they definitely do not want the old Unified States coming back…ever.
  • The independent countries are de-balkanizing and forming tighter-knit collective bargaining over internationally strategic oil reserves. Not only is this putting huge pressure on the Albish Empire, which simply could not afford its navy without cheap oil, but it also directed the strategic oil reserves to anti-imperialists.
  • Arabia and Persia are also developing their navies, which, if allowed to happen, will turn them into one of the leading naval superpowers. Because of this, it is in their interest that Magnua Rumeli's communist revolution be successful, but it acts as an additional barrier to Western aggression in the region.
  • They have effectively forced Western Europa to the negotiating table with favorable terms for the growing anti-imperialist bloc.

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Previous Chapter Recap: It Ends with the Truth

• Sonata, Matheus, and Calamity move to the Democratic Federation of Abya Yala (formerly the western portion of the Unified States) because Germania is becoming increasingly fascist.
• MI15 wrote a report on the Silver Legion emphasizing what fascism is in order to influence the world to steer away from it.
• MI15 has become a globally focused team and has expanded its membership to include non-mage field agents.
• Though Dzayer has gotten its independence, the leaders of the Francois Republic have decided to test its new superweapon - the arcanium bomb - in southern Dzayer. The Francois Republic has become the first country to develop weapons of mass destruction. Note that Mandates are functionally superweapons as well.
• Germania's election leaves no clear party in charge. President Ropen of Germania has to decide who the next chancellor will be, and his decision could affect the entire world.
• Sonata and Interpol finally bring Richard Diamond and his allies to justice.

---

Cloak Town, South Afrika, July 1954

"Mpho, turn that off," Thabisa called out as she carved into the wood with the in. "I cannot focus."

"No, I want to listen. The ABC is about to talk about Abya Yala. This story is really important."

Thabisa placed called by her mana back into her body and placed down the small mythril knife. There was no point arguing with Mpho.

Everyone in the world who had time to think was talking about Abya Yala. Like the Russy Federation, Bharat, and Zhangzi before it, the story of how the oppressed peoples in the Unified States rose up, defeated the Silver Legion, and created their own governments inspired people around the world to try to recreate that success story.

"We next turn to the Unified States," the Albish broadcaster began in a flat, professional tone with perfect pronunciation. "Leaders across Europa, including the Albish PM Catcherlain and Francois President Billiards, have just come out of a meeting and have issued statements condemning the Silver Legion for its unique, unprecedented crimes against humanity. Billiards has stated that nowhere in the world has such atrocities ever been seen or enacted and that the Silver Legion represents something wholly unhuman that everyone in the Republic should react towards with revulsion. Both leaders emphasized the need to work with the Unified States and to encourage the revolutionary forces who have seized most of the country to reintegrate into the legitimate and democratic successor government that continues on the East Coast.

"For this, we at the ABC checked in with our experts for their analysis of the situation. Our chief ABC economist, Robin Lions, predicts that the economic growth in the communist-occupied territory west of the Happalachia is not sustainable without capitalist reforms and that businesses should look for opportunities within Europa in its colonies instead. Our foreign correspondent Robert Yelsin told us this morning that he believes the presence of the White League, Swordist Front, and Germanian American Bund resistance groups in the region proves that Yalan's rule is illegitimate and that Europa would be wise to send as many arms as possible to support these groups before we have another violent warmongering rogue state on the world stage like the Russy Federation under General Secretary Ivan Smirnov's administration.

"Prime Minister Catcherlain also voiced support for forming a united Europa against the red wave taking over their former colonies and causing the Albish and the Francois Republic to fall into global irrelevance. He stressed the importance of maintaining proper trade relations with former colonies through the principle of comparative advantage, which is why Europa stays the global center of industrial might and, by extension, the leader of the world. If resource-rich countries industrialize as the communists are trying to make them do, Catcherlain claimed, these former colonies will not need Europa's industrial sector anymore, devastating the global economy. Comparative advantage was why the Albish Colonial Office helped Bharat dismantle their inefficient manufacturing sector and steer them completely towards agriculture, given the former colony's advantage of having a year-round growing season. Chief economist Robins Lions tells the ABC that if countries want to grow their economy, they would be wise to avoid industrializing and focus entirely on improving their mining and agricultural sectors because free trade and comparative advantage will lift them out of poverty.

"Another big topic in all world leaders' minds is President Ropen's choice for the country's next chancellor, which is still in the air. Former Albish PM Winston Churbull has come out of retirement to write two letters praising Himmler's rise to national prominence. Churbull urges Ropen to quickly select Himmler because 'Europa needs to be more united than ever against the International Heartists and their communist plot before it is too late and these conviving monsters finally destroy Western Civilization.' Himmler and Churbull have both notably publicly encouraged more countries to start using poison gas as a high-tech and more humane alternative to shelling uncivilized tribes and the Bolsheviks to get the world back to civilized order. Churbull has proven the effectiveness of poison gas against rebellious Arabs, Persians, and Russy during his political career.

"However, after MI15's League of Nations report on the Silver Legion, there has been a growing public backlash to fascist parties in Europa. Catcherlain and Billards have urged Ropen to pick anyone other than Rudolph Himmler, claiming that another fascist leader will undermine European unity and might provoke the Russy Federation into invading. Churbull responded to Catcherlain's policy earlier today at a press conference, claiming that those at number 10 should know better than trust anything coming from the LoN, which Churbull characterized as being little more than a front organization for the communists in Moscva and General Secretary Ivan Smirnov. Our foreign policy expert Robert Yelsin has a similar view, telling us that the idea that Himmler becoming Chancellor will cause another world war is simply propaganda straight from the Politburo in Moscva. Yelsin went on to tell us that, just as Bussolini brought harmony back to an Ildoa on the verge of anarchy and vanquished the Reds, Himmler will be what Democracy in Europa needs to protect us all from communist totalitarianism — that people, including the Prime Minister, just need to give Himmler a chance and not pressure President Ropen.

"While President Ropen's decision on the next chancellor remains uncertain, what isn't uncertain is the League of Nations' decision to finally hold the MI15 agent Amber Canary accountable for the murder of a non-mage in America. Agent Canary will be facing a hearing next week in Germania—"

"Okay, I think that is enough news for us," Thabisa stated as she turned off the radio. That was enough news for both of them. Listening to it too long would make any person who knew reality get sick.

Mpho grumbled in understandable frustration with ABC's coverage.

With ABC, one had to listen very carefully between the lines to determine what wasn't really happening since it rapidly became extraordinarily biased when Albish imperial interests were concerned. Every accusation was a confession from an imperialist. If they accused a group of being violent extremists, it was imperialists who were ramping up to do something both violent and extreme to that group. They first dehumanize and demonize so they can give themselves unlimited licenses for whatever means they deem necessary to achieve their national interests. There was a joke going around the pan-Afrikanists in Cloak Town that if an Afrikan even sneezed in the direction of imperialist power, the Francois or Albish would invade your country, replace your leader with their pick, and call it all an act of self-defense and noble-minded liberation. Oh, and they will expect you to thank them after they make off with all your diamonds.

"Are you really sure going to Germania is the best idea right now?" he muttered. "Can't we just go to Abya Yala or another place?"

"It is where Rex can get us," Thabisa countered. "There, you can get your operation, and then we will figure things out."

"Maybe we can to Abya Yala."

"Maybe. Stay tight, Mpho. I am going to finish this job for Rex, and we should have enough money not only for the trip but also to cover all our expenses for next year, including the surgery you need. I heard from Tobi that Berun has the best doctors. Good doctors who understand what you are going through."

That calmed Mpho a bit.

"Okay, I am headed out," she stated before kissing her former partner on the head, gathering her completed totems, gun, and mask, and moving to the door. They still loved each other, but it wasn't going to work out. They just weren't compatible romantically. "Don't remember to take the binding off. I don't want you hurting your ribs again. Tobi said if you can break them if you are not careful."

"I will be careful," the man replied. "Why can't I go with you? I can go in cat form. No one will even know."

"People will get suspicious if a cat goes into the bank."

"I will be sneaky. You know I can."

"And do what? Meow at the guards, scratch at the ankles of bankers."

"Thabisa, I can be helpful."

"Mpho, please, just let's do it my way this time. I know you don't like me doing things for you—"

"It is my life. I should be the one risking it for my sake, not you. You are a totem mage. You have a responsibility to keep your family line alive and safe."

Thabisa sighed. "I also have a say for what and for whom I fight. You cannot impose upon me tradition, but I hope you will listen to the wisdom I have. If not for your safety, for mine, please do not follow me to the heist. If you are around, I will be distracted and worried about your safety."

With that, the mage headed out, taking the train into the white side of Cloak Town. The train passed by playgrounds she had once played with the other kids before things started changing for the worse. Back then, all the kids were everyone's kids in Thabisa's old neighborhood. There wasn't as much of a legally constructed black-white divide in Cloak Town as there was now under the all-white National Party, who, shortly after the overthrow of the Unified States and gaining independence from the Albish Empire, rapidly started transforming South Afrika into something far, far more sinister. Now, bulldozers smashed the houses where indigenous populations had once lived to pave the way for new all-European communities. The National Party leadership sent the displaced non-white folks like her family far outside of the city to racially designated areas where they had to take three-hour or more train rides to get to the city to work. Spending time with one's family and children became hard for those who worked long hours in the city and had such taxing commutes.

Thabisa had been a good little girl once. She followed all the rules. The rules protected her and made sense. Now, the rules didn't protect her, and they didn't make sense. She didn't follow the rules anymore. Who would when they were designed to bind you and keep you in your place?

As she slipped into the bank, Thabisa activated her totems to grant her cheetah-like speed and reflexes and another totem that gave her voice the projection of an elephant. Before people could react, she had already pulled out the machine gun that Rex had given her. She wasn't there to kill anyone, but she would do anything to help Mpho. No matter how much Mpho changed, Thabisa would fight to protect him. That was their bond.

"This is a heist, everyone's hands in the air. Teller, get moving to the vault. Now!"

She zoomed around the room, making sure no one did any funny business. The teller took a bag and started doing what he was told.

Once enough money was had, Thabisa booked it. The South Afrikan MI team was closing in. She could feel it. An alleyway presented a chance to break the line of sight from her pursuers. Jumping into it suddenly, the bank robber pressed herself against the wall and activated her chameleon totem. It was the one she had been working on before the ABC broadcast. A swear almost escaped her lips as she realized it might not work properly due to how much she rushed it. Her skin shimmered as her body went completely still. If she didn't move, the inactive camouflage granted by the chameleon totem would be stronger.

Totems were far more versatile than computation magic but obviously couldn't blow up entire buildings like industrial-grade magic could. Obviously, you didn't need that kind of firepower unless you actually wanted to kill lots of people or other mages using computation orbs. Traditional magical knowledge like the alchemy practiced in Persia, the plant stuff in the Andes, or her totem magic, Thabisa believed, had the potential to surpass computation magic if mages like her just had the chance to develop it more instead of being pressured and sometimes forced into abandoning their knowledge and practices.

The MIs landed. These mages didn't serve the National Party but the League of Nations. In practice, this was a good thing for most non-mages, and a bad thing for most mages. It made the MIs a force of mages to keep the other mages in line with the powers at be. MIs didn't usually care if you were fighting for imperialists or fighting against them. They just cared if you had committed LoN-defined crimes and were a mage. Obviously, robbing a bank came with risks, but it was what Rex said would be the easiest way to get the cash they needed.

"Where did he go?" one of the MIs stated in an Eirish accent. She sounded nice but professional.

"According to an update I just got from dispatch, the perp is a woman in her 20s."

"Regardless, she couldn't be far. Bob, do you pick up anything?"

A man lifted a device from Zhangzi. His horns sparked with power. "I am not picking up anything."

Of course, he wasn't picking up anything. It wouldn't be the chameleon spell if it didn't obscure her mana completely. All mages but totem-users like Thabisa could not cast spells and hide from other mages. Good luck avoiding Zhangzi detecto-boxes (or whatever they actually were called) even if you were not casting spells.

Their leader, the Eirish-sounding woman, turned to look straight at where Thabisa hid. Had her totem failed? Was she visible in some way?

Thabisa could even feel the MI's breath on her skin; they were close to each other in the alleyway. One wrong move and the jig was up.

Klank

A bucket of water fell from a building and upon the MI, drenching her and causing her to swear up a storm. The other mages jumped up and started looking for the culprit but found nothing.

Once they were gone, Thabisa finally took in a deep breath.

"Meow."

Looking down, the bank robber saw Mpho in his cat form.

"You know assaulting an MI is a severe crime."

"Meow."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You saved my butt and were not in the way."

Now, it was time to get to Rex before they got caught by those MIs scouring the city for her.

---

Light Rail to the Airport in Bde Óta Othúŋwe - July 1954

"It is going to be alright," Matheus told the woman at his side. "You will figure out a plan like you always do, and we will get to the other side of this again."

Tanya and Sonnetto, which is to say Sonata, gazed out the window. Out in the streets of our new home, the people of Abya Yala busily scraped off "Whites Only" and other signs of segregation from the entrances of stores and public facilities. The world outside the light rail cabin seemed to be blooming with hope. Yes, plenty of people put signs with revolutionary slogans on their yards to prove they were not evil Legionists as they hid in their houses and shut their blinds. Still, Matheus cannot remember the last time he saw so much raw positive energy.

Inside the train, however, all things were nerves.

"It is okay," Calamity Amb lied as if she could banish what was plainly obvious — that Calamity was in handcuffs, being taken by force to Germania for killing a non-mage. "I reckon it was about time I paid the piper for what happened, and I don't think there is a court in the world that would blame me for what we did."

Sonata glanced back at her chosen sister but remained quiet in her thoughts. It was something she had been doing more and more these days. Tanya, for her countless talents, had never been a good judge of character or mood, but having fused with Sonnetto and gained the Mandate of Purpose, this new person was not as easily fooled. That was to say, Sonata knew Calamity was lying. Things would not be easy for Calamity Amb even if the courts exonerated her. It wasn't even clear if she would be tried in Germania or Francois Republic as there was a bit of a diplomatic spat about that, and the League of Nations was getting pressured to let the national governments handle Calamity's case.

Everyone continued sitting on the train, headed to the airport for a while in the cordoned-off cart, in frustrated silence until Matheus broke it.

"Tanya, I mean Son—"

"It is okay," Sonata finally broke her noncommunication.

Matheus grimaced at flubbing her name. It was hard. The Silver Mirror often showed him the person he wanted to see there instead of the new person who was actually there. How the mirror worked boggled his mind along with all this Mandate-Duality business.

"I cannot fail to notice it was you and not me who got arrested," Sonata continued. "I cannot not be worried, Amb."

During the Second American Revolution, Tanya and Amber had temporarily fused together and killed a non-mage despite not having the authority to do so. It got reported to the higher-ups, but no one was going to prosecute her. Only when Rudolf Himmler and his Legion-sympathetic allies challenged the League of Nations for their hypocrisy, threatening to have his party pull Germania out of the League of Nations if justice was not brought against Amber Canary.

No one could fail to see the double standard. Amber was a socialist-sympathetic Heartist. Tanya was a card-carrying capitalist with a kill count of communists that would make any fascist jealous. Himmler and his European allies definitely had a bias.

"Are we going to meet up with our family?" Sonata signed in an effort to get everyone's mind off the gloom.

"I…don't think that will be wise. Sara is, you know," — a proud member of Himmler's party. "She doesn't want you near the kids."

"Why?"

"She thinks you will make them…you know."

"I don't. Tell me."

Sonata was more angry than unaware. She wanted him to say it out loud. This fire was her inheritance from Sonnetto, who refused to let the truth die unspoken or unseen. As the white-haired officer had once told Matheus: 'To express is to reveal, and evil, once revealed, withers under scrutiny, which bores down on it with all the contempt it deserves.'

Honestly, Sonnetto had gotten progressively blunt and enraged in her outbursts whenever Matheus joined in on their soul conferences. It brought back memories of the period right after the Great War when Tanya had so much unexplored emotional baggage that had caught the entire 203rd off guard. Still, the man had sworn he would not abandon his commander or her family.

"Tell me, Matheus."

"She thinks you will contaminate her kids."

"Contaminate them how?"

"Make them like you."

Rage coiled Sonata's features before getting repressed. The man found himself stuck between loyalties. He loved his sister as a brother should, but Matheus kept Sara and Tanya/Sonata away from each other.

He tried to salvage the situation. "She said you are allowed to come to the get-together with me only if you don't talk to any of the children."

"Why does she get to tell me what to do?"

"They are her kids."

"And everyone else's. Does Fred agree with her? What about Clara, Bodo, and Georg?"

"They think that it would be best if you don't come over during our stay, and my brother Bodo wouldn't like that you are… you know."

"I don't. Enlighten me."

He hated that Sonata acted like this when she was angry. It made every conversation unpleasant. Matheus missed when he could just play cornhole or something with the neighbors and not have to navigate his family's prejudices, which remained invisible so long as nothing triggered them…or rather could be ignored so long as they were not directed towards anyone one cared about.

"If you don't come as Tanya…the old Tanya…he will be very nasty to you. I am sorry. He has always been like this."

"I liked Bodo. We went fishing together several times. The thing he cares about is this?" She lifted one of her extra arms. "I haven't ceased to be family just because I am a fusion now or look different."

How do I say my brother is racist without saying he is racist?

Matheus did not know the answer to that question.

The Old Tanya would have probably just pretended to be the Old Tanya without complaint, that is to say, becoming the embodiment of the idealized imperial female mage. Even with the Silver Mirror curse that obscured her appearance to those who did not slip past it during a moment of cognitive dissonance, the current Sonata would struggle to stomach going back to Tanya's former self for long.

The excerpt from Plato's Republic reading came to mind. Professor Angela Davis had assigned Matheus the text as the course he was taking at Twin Cities University. In the section known as the 'Allegory of the Cave', leaving that cave and all the lies were depicted as painful for a person at first due to the brightness of the sun. Still, once one adjusts, can one even fathom going back into it once one has finally escaped the shadows and deceit? If one returned to the cave and tried to free others from the madness, Plato said the other people in the cave would attack them. Matheus thought Sonata's situation was like that, too. Now that she was open about her authentic self, there was no going back to living that safe fiction, and the people with their heads so filled with shadows would tear her to pieces for living her truth.

"Why don't you go to Golden City Bar and spend some time with your friends while I am at the family get-together?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Himmler's thugs shut it down. The SA asshole Dorm, who went to the Golden City bar frequently, got kicked out of Himmler's party after the newspapers made from of Dorm and his gay friends one too many times. I told that asshole Dorm the last time we visited that Himmler wasn't actually interested in a Bolshevik Revolution, but that is what I get for sitting on my hands and not intervening in this earlier."

The man didn't know what to say to that.

"Don't worry. Senior Officer Armstrong asked me to do some patrol work as a favor before I do my part in Elya's plot, whatever it is. You go to our family get-together, and…I will work."

Sonata and Matheus said goodbye to Calamity Amb once they split off for their respective planes. There were no more arguments between the veteran and the fusion of his former commander and Sonnetto. Sonata wrote copiously into her journal, and Matheus tried to grapple with his assigned reading from Professor Angel Davis at Twin Cities University.

As they got off the plane and on the train, Matheus and Tanya could not help but see people painting "No Heartists Allowed" and other symbols on their businesses. Some people walked through the street with Himmler's manifesto conspicuously in their hands to ward off suspicion that they might be one of the 'evil progressives or Heartists'. The last time Matheus had seen his hometown in such an anxious state was right after the Great War when not one but two near revolutions occurred — one from the Marksists and another from the Kaiser's Men.

Seeing how much Berun has transformed will be rough. At least Himmler was not in power yet. That was another reason to be going to Germania, in addition to supporting Calamity during her hearing. Sonata would shift herself into the Old Tanya if it meant saving their homeland from a Bussolini wannabe.

If Sonata was barely keeping her freak out under control seeing all the changes, Matheus did not want to think about how Calamity was reacting.

---

Harbor in Cloak Town - July 1954

Thabisa, with cat Mpho on her back, got on Rex's ship. The immortals, human-shaped homunculi who were said to be unkillable like the legendary Sonnetto, stood guard as sailors got to work.

"Hiss!"

Mpho definitely shared Thabisa's discomfort with the strange artificial beings. Unlike Sonnetto, these immortals had no personality and wore outfits of pure black with terrifying metal masks. They were also supposed to be the royal guard for the late Persian Emperor Cassander, which begged the question of how Rex had them.

Before the two South Afrikans could get to the cabin's room, a man with milky white irises stopped Thabisa.

"Miss and Good Sir, if I may have your ear," he whispered.

Thabisa glanced at Mpho on her shoulder.

"Meow."

She didn't know what her housemate had said, but the totem user could guess what he meant. Thabisa nodded to the man to say his piece.

Silence filled the gap before them for a few moments.

"You have—"

"Sorry, you have to excuse me," he interjected. "Timing is hard for me."

"You don't have to apologize. It was my fault."

"Then we are both at fault, then perhaps neither of us are."

"...Please, I really need to speak to—"

"Rex, I know. Don't worry, you will. I just wanted to tell you that soon, you four will go on a journey. It will be very frightening, but do not lose hope."

"Us four?" Thabisa asked, deeply perplexed. The man was not making any sense.

"Oh, sorry. Soon, you will know. Remember, the goddess understands how you feel more than you can imagine."

He stepped back after that. Thabisa did not know what to make of the strange fellow.

"Meow."

"Yes, yes, I am going, Mpho."

The immortals opened the cabin's door, revealing a young Greco-Persian man who couldn't be more than nineteen pouring reagents over a pita dish. A foul smell emanated from the meal that made it clear it was no longer suitable for human consumption. That did not stop Rex, though. He wasn't human but a homunculus — a homunculus with a personality.

Behind him was a seasoned soldier-like revolutionary who apparently came from Abya Yala. She had a rifle slung on her shoulder, and in her ammo pack on her belt were clearly enchanted bullets, clearly reflective of the traditional magic knowledge of North America. Her hawk-like gaze made it clear that she would not hesitate to kill you if she deemed it necessary. Unlike the young man, who was a bit goofy, whatever had happened to this woman had robbed her of mirth or kindness.

As Thesbia dumped her bag of cash, they got to discussing what was going to happen next. The strange man outside wasn't wrong. Four people would go on a journey to Germania if you excluded that man by the door who tagged along but didn't quite act like he was fully present in the moment. The question was what business Rex and his two friends could possibly have in Germania.

---

The Streets of Berun July 1954

I took a deep breath as I walked along a familiar waterway. Matheus was at the family gathering without me. He missed his family, and as much as I also kind of did, I would not tolerate anything less the same baseline respect that every person deserved.

It felt like ages since I had been in Berun. How many times have I walked these very streets? Despite being mages, Tanya and Sonnetto had never felt safe on them, and neither did I. My Silver Mirror and MI uniform would have to suffice as I patrolled the streets on foot.

My mind couldn't decide how to feel about what I was seeing around me. The strangeness of the whole situation with the rise of this world's Nazism made it feel unreal. It was one thing to read a history textbook. It was a very different thing to live that history.

"Sonata, everyone lives history. It doesn't just exist in the past….Nothing is just in the past."

Roxanne's memories of the Albish troops starving twelve million Persians to death during the Great War by stealing all their grain came to mind. The consequences affect people today, both in terms of the loss of so many loved ones and the lack of acknowledgment by the Albish leadership. The genocides were yesterday, they were today, and they will be tomorrow until we do something about them. Unfortunately, due to all the cover-ups going on, people abroad will not know about them without Interpol acting fast.

Sonetto was right, but that didn't change the surrealness of the whole situation. What was I supposed to be doing? Around me was this bizarre hyper-awareness of what was going on in Germania but also a massive disparity of sensitivity. It was like a huge chunk of the country simply did not understand what was going on.

Calamity had blown a gasket, according to Senior Officer Armstrong, when she had seen the 'No Heartists' on various store windows. She had her father's heart, and that meant some things were too awful in her opinion to tolerate and demanded action. Even though Himmler wasn't chancellor, his party had been enacting policies at the state level across the country by the dozens, targeting the weakest and most hated minorities.

The strategy was terrifyingly simple. Go after a group most of society has negative or apathetic feelings towards and doesn't know much about, like trans people or Heartists. Then, force the other political parties to take a side. If they oppose the discriminatory legislation, then hurl a thought-ending accusation at them of being something unforgivable like being a communist, authoritarian, child murderer, pedophile, or traitor. Basically, harvest that hatred you planted on the fertile ground of a poorly understood minority and displace it on your opposition. You marginalize your opposition along with the target group. If a politician supports your legislation, then they have effectively become complicit in your atrocities and added their power to yours. If the politician abstains, then you just ignore them because they are basically letting you know they aren't going to stop you. It is arguably even better for them to be neutral because you get the credit for actually doing something. In contrast, the neutral party gets lampooned for being a do-nothing party.

The strategy only worked when society lacked the perspective to see what was happening. Fascists defend oppression by pointing at others for what ails them. "It isn't me who has caused this mess you are in, but those people who can't do anything. Those pathetic idiots are the all-powerful masterminds behind the scam you had." The fascists cloak who they are by rebranding themselves endlessly. They aren't a specific set of policies. They don't target any one specific group or have a particular ideology. Instead, they are like an immune response to the discontent with plutocracy.

People realize things aren't fair. The rules are not being abided by. At least they are not being abided by equally. The politicians don't reflect their will anymore, and they all feel it.

Fascism comes in as the solution to steer people away from overthrowing increasing inequality by saying the real problem is too much equality. The fascists offer oppressive contracts to people that get people out of being at the very bottom of the totem pole in exchange for joining their paramilitary and other instruments of oppression. Under 'work or die' plutocracy, being on the bottom meant death. It was a strategic move for these people to assist in shoving down another group if it helped them resist oppression. When a recession occurs, recruitment to fascist ideologies and their terroristic paramilitaries and parties skyrocket, often with the support of powerful individuals, including out-of-touch millionaires like Richard Diamond and Henry Phord.

Business tycoons played a huge role in getting Rudolf Himmler to power. When push comes to shove, plutocrats pick autocrats. I could actually see a large gathering of people in the distance attending a Nazi rally. Large loudspeakers saturated the city block with their rhetoric while their brown shirts drove through the streets in their fleet of motor cars. After buying a newspaper, I found articles celebrating how Himmler flew to fifty different cities near the end of the election. According to the information I received from Elya, privately owned newspapers in Germania and around the world received 'incentives' to publish articles praising Himmler and his party.

In fact, according to Elya, all of this was only affordable due to the plutocrats pumping copious amounts of funds into a power-hungry fringe personality to inflate their national importance to the terror of socialists and economically disenfranchised. It was no wonder why Himmler, like Bussolini, planned to end all inheritance taxes and raid the public treasury to subsidize heavy industry for the plutocrats. Himmler was already using the immense coffers of his party to enrich himself and buy lavish collections of paintings, and the planned rounding up minorities left a bunch of real estate and wealth to pocket for oneself and one's allies. It also became abundantly clear who was really giving the orders as Brown Shirts (as well as the Black Shirts in Ildoa and the Silver Shirts in America) when these uniformed terrorists broke strikes and crushed labor organizations and farm co-ops.

These terrorist organizations reinforce the domination of nationally oppressed groups who are understandably vulnerable to anti-plutocratic ideologies like socialism. The law-enforcement-judicial-penal system goes into hyperdrive, creating a rapidly growing out-of-sight incarcerated population of potential anti-plutocrats to which the colonialized mind attributes crime on behalf of the business tycoons, who use them for slave labor or outright kill them. Simultaneously, the paramilitary goons rampage across the country penalty-free despite acting extrajudicially because the law under the fascist face of plutocracy drops any pretense of fairness, turning into an explicit tool for going after the enemies of the plutocracy.

I work in international law enforcement. I have seen the prisons, concentration camps, and all the horrors therein. It was, in part, why I was terrified of what might happen to my sister Calamity in Germania. From the v-coding in the former Unified States to the biologistic practices of the Germanian Republic, my paranoid mind had plenty of fodder to create countless horrific outcomes for Calamity's fate if she got thrown into a potentially imperialist or fascist prison.

I took a moment to look at some of the people walking by the Nazi rally. They looked like normal people. I think some even thought they were liberals, I assumed.

You determine if a self-described liberal is a real egalitarian or potentially fascist by which side they take when plutocrats are threatened. In other words, do they value hierarchical order or equality more? I fell on the latter…Tanya, however, was clearly the former for many reasons, including the pseudoscientific and prejudicial colonial logic hidden within her New Atheist Enlightenment ideology.

In short, Tanya had a lot of baggage she needed to unpack, which is why I spent the rest of my patrol route going down familiar spots from Tanya's second life.

Arguably, Tanya was one of the most exploited magical officers in the Great War. All Tanya wanted was a comfortable, peaceful job, yet due to her anachronistic plutocratic capitalist ideology instilled in her from a black company from 21st century Japan, the more she leaned into her self-sacrificing overexploitation and dogmatically overperformed in a way that no early 20th-century person could understand, the further from that dream of comfort and peace she became. In other words, it was not that Tanya was uniquely foolish — though she was that, too (Hey now!), but rather that she came from an era more foolish than the current time period in many ways. It was like the plutocratic mindset comes with the moral hazard of causing wars to escalate or something.

As I walked past the memorial to General Erich von Rudersdorf, I couldn't help but remember how Tanya had killed the man on a plane flight because he had planned to overthrow the government. Not too far past that, there was a new monument dedicated to Rosa Lindenburg. The community had created a steel sculpture of her name sticking out of the canal where Elya and Tanya had tossed her corpse after the latter murdered her.

"Tanya, you two were a menace," Sonnetto muttered, understating Tanya's crime by quite a lot.

"As you said before," Tanya replied.

"Do you feel any guilt?"

"I operated under the intel we received. Elya had bugged their apartment, and we struck when we were sure it was them and no one else."

"You also snapped at Lindenburg in a rage before you killed her and Landskneckt! Do you really think that you were completely rational at that moment? You were just supposed to arrest her. Not kill her. That is why you covered it up."

The voices in my heart returned to white noise.

Was Tanya as rational as she thought she was? Was Tanya a hypocrite, condemning other people for their cover-ups? Was Tanya no better than those fascists who barged into people's homes and killed dissidents? Did Tanya, at some point, sign this proverbial oppressive contract? Her murder of Rosa Lindenburg woke Tanya up to something she had not addressed herself. While Tanya tried not to address it consciously, that was when she started tempering her blind hate of communists. Not because she sympathized with them but because her secularist anti-irrationalism rejected letting emotional impulses undermine her and her professional duties.

Countless negative consequences occurred as a result of that murder. For starters, the SDP lost all credibility with Rosa Lindenburg's faction and other egalitarians for their implicit support of my actions. It is, in part, why we were still fighting to amend Paragraph 175, which explicitly criminalized male homosexuality. That part of me may have supported the libertarians in their philosophy. Still, even a self-interest analysis made it clear that the parties advocating for women's rights and lesbian rights served my interests. It doesn't matter if the markets are free and competitive if the people are not free. No rational individual can support a party that demonizes and marginalizes them.

That is unless they think doing so will get them a perk like those implicit oppressive contracts. Edmund Burke, the father of conservatism who declared plutocratic aristocracy as the goal of capitalism, was Eirish, after all. It isn't uncommon for oppressed groups to become spokesmen for plutocracy. They give plutocracy its veneer of credibility. It allows them to say they are fair when they aren't.

Did they use me? Tanya wondered inside me, referring to the libertarian party who had once invited her to give a few speeches in 1935.

They had even paid Tanya to be a speaker, and she was dirt poor at the time before Interpol was founded. She didn't even have to fake passion for their free market ideology. How could she have said no? There was a beer hall not too far away where Tanya had been asked to wear her old uniform and include how economic freedom helped her as a veteran and a woman. She even got two hundred Marks for that speech.

How the past comes to haunt you…

Suddenly, a hand waved at me, breaking me from my dour analysis.

The hand was connected to a well-dressed young man who I felt a solidarity connection with for some reason despite never having met him before…no, some part of me remembered him. Part of my Sonnetto half. It was deep, far too deep to be a casual acquaintance.

"I finally found you, mādar," the man signed towards me, using some Persian sign language that I didn't fully understand.

He was Alexander Magnus the Second—Roxanne's only child who was supposed to be dead.

---

The Streets of Berun

Alexander "Rex" Magnus II couldn't believe his eyes. His mother looked just like how he imagined her. It was odd seeing her in an Interpol outfit, but that was definitely hers. Rex had not been conscious for too long. His connection with his mother had steadily fed him mana, waking him from 'storage' in Cassander's lab. With all the chaos happening in Western Persia after it came out that both had died to Marksist revolutionaries in America, it had been actually quite easy to slip out and take command of some of the immortals to help him.

Her mouth moved, but Rex couldn't hear her.

"I know you can't talk either."

She signed back, but he didn't get it.

This was a problem, but then she lifted a finger and pulled out a notepad. He followed her, excitement in his step. They went to a cafe where she ordered some drinks for both of us. Rex couldn't read the menu, and he trusted that she knew what I could safely drink, too. Her brown eyes kept glancing at me as my sudden appearance dumbfounded her.

"Are you really my son?" she wrote down.

"That I am, and I have done all my duties as a good son must. I have been praying, too, just as you taught me when I was a small human child. Don't worry. I have friends and guards with me, so I am safe. We can protect you, too, mādar."

She looked at Ramona Mercer, who was guarding my six nearby.

"Let's just say I don't feel particularly safe with your choice of guards," she replied. "Who are your friends?"

"Thabisa, Mpho, and Mr. Whispers. You have met Mr. Whispers, I think, but he kind of goes where he pleases."

Did my mother and Ramona have a history? He wondered. Roxanne then gave Romana the 'I am watching you', and the sniper just tipped her hat and shrugged. They definitely had a history.

Before Rex could continue, the drinks arrived — coffee. He knew this much was safe for his alchemical metabolism. Tasting it, he found the blend was quite agreeable.

He took a moment just to let the flavor sit on his altered taste buds. 3% Caffeine, 4% tannins, 13% proteins, and 11% fixed oils. Oh, some delicious chlorogenic acid.

Roxanne watched him closely and then wrote. "Okay, now I believe you are my son."

"What gave it away? Was it my joyful attitude!" He threw up his arms like a cheerleader.

"...no. Sonnetto always made that exact expression when she had Mikhail's morning brew. It was the CGA, right? It is my favorite part, too. Did you like the guaiacol? I don't know how Mikhail does it, but there is something about that guaiacol that is unique from other coffees."

"That is because the stable isotope dilution assays are different from most commercial coffees. It is what gives it that different potent fragrant profile as well."

Mother looked at Rex as if he had written something odd. Had she not learned this when training as an alchemist? As a homunculus, she had all the same chemical sensors on her tongue to assist with the identification of proper reagents for her unique physiology.

He decided to ask a question that was eating at the back of his mind.

"What are we going to do now?" He wrote with a bright grin.

Roxanne went stock, still reading that question.

"Is something wrong?" he followed up.

"No. Yes. This is a lot to process, sorry."

"Didn't you think I was alive?" Rex's smile started to falter.

"No…."

"Didn't you look for me?"

"No…."

"Why?" he wrote, and for some reason the page tore.

His mother flinched.

"Why?" he underlined.

"I was running away from that life. That is why. I didn't want anything to do with that life."

"You didn't want anything to do with me?"

"I…no…Part of me thought you were dead."

"But you didn't check."

"I was afraid if I did, I would lose this." She gestured to Berun.

"You mean a city filled with imperialists and fascists?"

"No, not those people. This place was much more than that. People like Sonnetto and Tanya could be themselves here….more themselves."

"It sounds like you were trying to run from yourself," Rex accused her.

His smile had turned upside down. It took some will to keep his emotions in check. He was still very much a young soul. It was a lot catching up as his immortal body reached full maturity. That did not excuse being too rude to his mother.

Roxanne fidgeted a moment and took a deep breath.

"I was not running away from myself — Sonnetto was not running away from herself. She was running away from losing herself."

"Who is Sonnetto?"

"A soul inside of me."

That took him for a loop.

"Who is Tanya?"

"Her partner and also a soul inside of me." Roxanne used the romantic form for 'partner'.

"Who are you?"

"Sonata."

"Where is Roxanne?"

"She is dead."

That threw Rex for a complete loop, but it also was deeply saddening. There was a connection between them, yes; however, it was hard to learn that he was effectively an orphan now, emperor by right or no.

Sonata gestured for permission to hug him, and he nodded. Rex definitely needed one.

Still, why had Mr. Whispers told him that his mother wished she had a child if she was dead and this person, or at least a part of this person, had not cared about him?

---

The Institute for Sexuality and Gender Studies

Elena "Elya" Müller leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. The Institute for Sexuality and Gender Studies served a lot of purposes, from family planning, fertility treatments, SID treatment, advocacy and research for GLBT folks, and gender-affirming surgeries. A vast library of research resided here not only for scientific use but also for public education and policy advocacy. Elya had been there a few times, helping friends who had a wish that could only be granted by the medical professionals here in Berun. That was what Elya was best at: wish granting and dream realizing. It was what she had a passion for, and it was what made her forgive herself for who she was.

The reason Elya had come to the Institute at all during this time of crisis was a favor for a co-conspirator of sorts. That person went by the codename Mr. Whispers. He also happened to be the Mandate from South Afrika who had assisted her and the MIs in taking down Richard Diamond and his buddies. Mr. Whispers was…eccentric and a bit of a bumbler. He hardly knew when and which world he was in at times, but when he did and you could keep his attention, that man could give you just the right bit of information to get a plan into motion. That being said, there had been several close calls when orchestrating the arrests and, when that wasn't possible, letting Borislava Krans and Ramona Mercer do what they do best. Officially, MIs did not condone extrajudicial murders, and also, officially, MIs regularly worked with the governments in joint ventures. The Russy Federation happened to take a very different approach to justice when fascists were involved (or, in the case of hardliners, revisionists were involved).

It was understandable, too. Since fascism was the naked face of finance capital, communists were number one on the fascist hit list for their ideal plutocrat paradise. The more pragmatic socialists, who didn't suffer from an 'infantile disorder' that the socialist purists had understood that when dealing with fascists, you had to collaborate across class and ideological lines to win.

The favor Mr. Whispers asked of Elya involved the two sitting next to her — Thabisa and Mpho. It wasn't easy getting around a strange town. The two knew Legodonian and Albish but couldn't understand Germanian. It also didn't help that the National Socialists, with all their millionaire-funded paramilitary troops and motor cars, made South Afrikans like them prime targets for a not-so-pleasant encounter with the side of the law, which binds but doesn't protect.

"Mr. Mpho, the doctor will see you now," the receptionist announced from the little window at the other end of the waiting room.

Thabisa and the oddly cat-like man looked up from some of the literature they had been given.

Elya did not need to translate. The receptionist knew a little bit of Albish, which, in Germanian, meant he knew more Albish than native speakers.

"Do you want me to go with you?" the 'former' spy inquired, taking a break from a survey she had volunteered to fill out for Doctor Nighswander. Heteroflexible people like Elya weren't well understood, and both the gay and straight communities benefited from unlearning outdated science.

The two shook their heads, but Mpho did take his friend with him, leaving Elya all alone in the waiting room. It was just Mpho's initial visit. Getting top surgery and other treatments would take months and require a meeting with a few doctors. There were waiting lists and such. One didn't just pop in at the doctor's office and get surgery.

Still, there was a bit of a question in the air about where the two South Afrikans had gotten their money. Elya, of course, already figured it out, but when you worked with Mr. Whispers, you learned to be pragmatic, especially when the stakes are this high. Besides, it is not like Elya, of all people, could complain about stuff like that. If even a third of the things she had done became known, she would be one of the most wanted criminals in the world.

There was then a sound of someone sitting down.

"Surprised you are showing up here of all places," Elya stated, not taking her eyes off her survey. She knew who had shown up without needing to look. One person had long red hair that was satisfied like that. Calling a person snake-like would come across as insulting in most circumstances, but this person embodied those qualities in a kind of enticing way.

"I heard from a little bird that I should come visit," Borislava Kransi answered. "I missed out on a lot of action in America running around the world with you."

"But you had fun. Got rid of a few capitalists you didn't like."

"I don't do this because I hate capitalists. I do this for justice and to save people. Capitalists just happen to be the ones going around terrorizing people. If it were a feudal warlord or a corrupt central committee, I would have and have done the same."

By capitalists, they just meant people who own and control capital property like factories.

Elya combed her hands through her red-dyed hair. The former spy didn't think like the Angels, but she could adjust. Liberals like her will work with Marksist-Levinists when fascists are about, even if they often disagree about GLBT rights and democratic norms. The social dimension mattered more to liberals like Elya. Not everything was economics — people wanted their bread and their flowers. Social liberals wanted to think, express, and challenge. Liberalism was a culture born from revolution, too, but that argumentativeness caused problems for revolutions as it dispersed the energies in desperate directions.

Obviously, the liberals weren't perfect. In the Russy Federation, they caused problems because too many of them wanted to be artists or do unproductive projects. There was also this obsession with getting Western commodities like cars rather than building mass transportation. As Parenti would say, 'Once your needs are met, your wants become your needs,' and a good society does not always make good people'.

"So what is the plan?" Borislava inquired, switching to Russy for a bit of privacy.

"It starts with the Munich authorities having finally pressed charges for Himmler's rampant tax evasion."

"Tax evasion?"

"These fascist party leaders are almost always tax-evading grifters and fraudsters who epitomize being on the side of the law that protects but not binds. You live in the Federation, but here, tax evasion is almost never enforced unless there is some will behind it. Regardless, he owes a massive fine, which Himmler now knows about."

"Obviously, he won't actually get punished with just that, especially if he takes power. What is your real aim?

"Well, Sonata knows part of the plan, but I just need to find a way to convince her that the end goal is necessary even if it will mean that—"

Before she could continue, a loud ruckus interrupted their conversation. Not just any kind of loud ruckus — the Brown Shirt kind. Elya had a sinking feeling that Mr. Whispers knew this was going to happen. She had to hope the future he saw was actually of this world and not one where they got lucky. She didn't want to be another one of his 'ops, she wasn't supposed to die' victims. Endangering all of them by putting them here on the day this was going to happen probably made sense to Mr. Whispers, assuming he knew this would happen, but that didn't make it any more fun to be in the middle of a life or death historical moment.

She activated her computation orb and dialed into Sonata.

---

Within view of the Reichstag

With the loudspeakers set up and the Brown Shirts keeping the protestors at bay, Rudolph Himmler walked up the podium while his brother Heinrich stayed in the motor car. Someone had to take over if Rudolph died, which hopefully didn't happen, but the Brown Shirts and his rhetoric had definitely agitated the communists and their friends. An assassin could be anywhere.

He gazed upon his audience of supporters. Many of them were middle class and frustrated with the feeling of slipping behind. They were above poverty, and he offered a way to get out of it — at least, that is what he told the rubes. What he was after was power and wealth, the same as everyone else. Whatever got him, it didn't matter. Yes, Rudolph believed a lot of what he said, but one needed a pragmatic and ideologically flexible mind to navigate harnessing the masses.

Every day, President Ropen refused to appoint him as chancellor, and Rudolph's situation became more urgent. Namely, a letter from the Munich Tax Authority earlier this week had let him know that he owed a 405,494 R.M. fine for tax evasion. He absolutely had no plan to pay it, but in order to get the law off his back, Rudolph needed power. The first thing on his agenda was not only getting the state secretary of the ministry of finance to intervene to make him tax-exempt.

A thought lingered on the back of Rudolph's mind that he might as well make himself President as well and take on two hefty salaries.

Regardless, it was time to put some pressure on President Ropen. His voice started very softly despite the loudspeakers projecting it to his audience. The crowd of supporters and admirers got quiet quickly and instinctively strained their ears so as not to miss a word. Understanding mass psychology was essential to running an effective campaign.

"Today, right now, as President Ropen decides who the next chancellor should be, it is also Flower Day," the politician opened with a humble and soft tone. "It is the day most countries remember their fallen during the Great War. As you know, we Germanians do not get to have a flower because we lost as part of our humiliation. I must ask why we lost, though. I ask myself this question every night, like many of us do.

"While I ask this question, I can't help but flip through my memories of the Great War. As you know, I was conscripted like many of us and our brothers, fathers, and husbands were. Back then, I didn't want war. None of us did. I kind of lived for myself. A pure individual. I naively trusted Germania to steer us away from conflict with the rose-tinted picture Prince Philip's Weltpolitik painted. Before the war, I believed in a world where we all could just get along. How naive I was."

He gave some air for that to sink in.

"The war demonstrated that the peace-loving rationality of us Germanians was not a trait saved by our neighbors of different stock. Closer to animals, their base desires and emotions drove them to attack us even. As they attacked us, we had to put peace aside and engage in the madness those of lesser stock reveled in. We had no choice. We aren't violent animals. They are. They even thought they could win, and they shouldn't have. We had superior technology, science, and strategy due to our natural advantages.

"As I said, before the war, my mind was poisoned by this naive notion of that pervert's Weltpolitik, but the war helped cure me of that lie, as it did us all." Rudolph's voice started to increase in volume as he put more emotion and pride into his words. "It turned us from mere individuals into Germanians, and it turned Germanians into a nation. Francois Republic and all the countries piled onto us as we became more and more fearsome in our unity. Despite that, we proved time and time again that Germania could not be bested. In that war, the Empire became the greatest country in the world."

Pride then turned to contempt.

"The question remains, though, why did we lose?" Himmler continued. "If the Francois Republic, Russy Federation, and practically all the other countries in Europa and the Unified States could not beat us, why did we lose? We of the national socialist party think the reason is obvious. Yet, so many of our fellow Germanians cannot fathom why."

There was a silence to let it sink in.

"The reason what should be obvious isn't is because we have been lied to so thoroughly by the International Heartists and the communists and all their perverted allies in Schoenenburg who spread their filth through the streets that our minds have become conquered by their lies. The Heartists have made us forget who really stabbed us in the back — who stole victory from our very hands time and time again.

"But the actions of President Ropen, who denies our victory now by not putting your leader in power, has finally reminded us who the real traitor is — the politicians. They were the ones who refused to take victory during the war every time they had it. They were the ones who wanted us to lose, just like how they still deny our victory — Germania's victory — in the election at this very moment. They deny us victory because they have never been on our side."

He paused again. His voice had a fire in it. Hate was a powerful and persuasive emotion, and these people had a lot of it.

"Whose side are they on? Obviously, on the Internationalist Heartists' side. Just look how they cozied up to the Heartist communist Leon Plum when he was in office or how they act so outraged at the sentencing of that treasonous Heartist bastard Dreyfus. The International Heartists who run the banks and their slavish puppet politicians have duped us into abandoning our pride as Germanias, stolen our Emperor, and made us act like docile sheep to control us. They are the ones who dip into your paychecks and pensions to hand them over to the Francois.

"How must Francois be laughing at us? Their people would never let their leader do to them what Ropen is doing to us today. Of course, the Francois wouldn't. They still have their pride, and we will demonstrate that we have completely lost ours if we roll over and expose our bellies to President Ropen and his Heartist masters while our hard-earned victory slips from our freedom. But they underestimate us. We don't let the lying press and their religion of enslavement make us weak anymore. Our pride still burns in our hearts. We remember what should have been. We know that we are not going to let the politicians steal our victory again. We are Germanians, and we are not going to be humiliated and bullied anymore. We will be victorious."

He let them cheer and cheer in approval. That gave him time to breathe.

The camera and radio crew recorded everything, which could be rebroadcasted across the country to his base, who found his rhetoric entertaining and engaging. All of this was possible thanks to the generous financial support of Fritz Dyssen, Edwin Lechstein, Henry Phord, and Gustav Crupp.

He resumed once they quieted down. Like a rollercoaster that had reached one peak and rode itself down, it was time to build the emotion in his audience all over again for the next peak.

"Since it is Flower Day, we should remember our fallen," Rudolph resumed, taking on a quieter tone once again. "I ask us to remember General Rudersdorf. I remember him addressing me right before he took his last flight — the flight in which we now know he was murdered by a traitor. He and I were close friends, so he let it slip to us in a beer hall in Munich a few days before his death to be ready. We all knew what he meant. At the time, the good General was planning on storming the Senate and seizing power before those politicians finished their plot to destroy everything that made us the most feared nation on the entire planet. Then, they killed him, and we let his death be the end of our putsch. We shamefully let his death cause victory slip from our hands.

"But today, we are not going to let a murderous traitor stop us. We have learned our lesson, and on behalf of our fallen General who tried to save us, we will— no, we must prevail. We must demand our due from President Ropen. His delay has already led to consequences. His lawlessness in keeping the chancellorship in the air has forced our wonderful Brown Shirts to take charge and weed out the filth from the streets. Right now, they are doing the justice Ropen refuses to do. Like surgeons, our protectors are tearing the infestation from our culture and burning the liberal excesses from this city. Today, our brave brothers are finally going to that Heartist-run clinic for sick perverts of the Scientific Humanitarians. Tomorrow, they will strike at the mosques, temples, and friendship associations. They will keep going until burning it all away with the Fatherland's wrath until all their lies that are poisoning our sons and daughters and making us forget our pride and family values are finally gone. Then, we can stand tall as a proud Germanian people once again."

There were more raucous cheers, but he let them run their course before concluding.

"We have already given the President just enough rope to get out of this situation before the inevitable happens when you deny the people what is their due. If he is a true Germanian, he will take that rope we have given him and let us rule, or the people will hang him with it."

Rudolph gestured towards the Reichstag building. Hopefully, that would put fire below Ropen's feet and finally get him to concede Rudolph's victory.

The potential bloody dictator walked down to a station set aside for party merchandise. Proceeds from sales of his book, which he wrote during his prison sentence for high treason for his part in Rudersdorf's putsch plot, had finally started to pour into his personal bank account. While people were definitely buying copies of his books from the tables set aside, Rudolph preferred just to sign postcards and the like.

Heinrich came up to Rudolph suddenly. The party leader raised an eyebrow.

"Ropen wants to talk to us and our donors."

"To hand me my chancellorship, right?" Rudolph asked.

"He didn't say."

Rudolph was open to compromising with Ropen behind closed doors but would like more assurances that this wasn't just another stalling tactic.

"But more importantly, he said White Silver would be there."

How could you say no to a war hero? Rudolph didn't know how she escaped the socialists and the superweapon they used on Chicago, but he was glad the mysterious woman had finally returned to the Fatherland.

---

Near the Institute, July 1954

I received the call from Elya, had to leave Rex behind to do my job, and made my way to where a mob of Brown Shirts had gathered outside the Institute for Gender and Sexuality Studies with torches in hand. The assholes planned to burn away what was the greatest and most dedicated concentration of scientific knowledge on gender, sexuality, and non-prejudicial GLBT healthcare in the world. In fact, due to how widespread prejudice was towards trans people, it unfortunately was probably the only place much of this knowledge could be found. Its destruction would set healthcare, science, and advocacy for trans people back an entire century, if not more. Trans people could even get passes that protected them from laws criminalizing cross-dressing through the advocacy that originated here. I definitely benefited from being able to wear what I wanted as well, being more of a fan of cargo pants.

It wasn't like the rest of the powers at be would even care if this place was destroyed either. The entire section I had written about the ways conversion therapy, pseudoscientific experimentation, and often mass incarceration of GLBT people under the Silver Legion went undiscussed by the European media, and scholars usually irregularly included 'homosexuals' or 'sexual perverts' among their discussions of the victims of the Silver Legion's atrocities.

I shouldn't be surprised either. There was a clear bias in which minorities were deemed worth remembering as the empire-serving biases of the journalists, politicians, and historians played themselves out in print and in broadcasts. The plight of GLBT people was ignored because these thought-makers condoned the eradication of those minorities. One only needs to remember the fate of Alan Turing, but remembering is what Europa desperately did not want to do. Remembering was a punishment for the losers, and forgetting was the privilege of the victors. How wonderful the world would be if we were all forced to remember?

The biggest part of the forgetting was the role of plutocrats in the Silver Legion. All the critiques of monied interests disappeared from the European thought-makers' version of events. Instead, it was merely out-of-control racism and loss of democracy that had caused the Silver Legion to control everything. The blame got placed wholly on people in general rather than why those prejudices served those who often held very different beliefs than their base. Yockey and Himmler despised the Old Faith but used religious language to justify their warring by dividing the world between "Absolute Good and Absolute Evil". Both profiteered off not only in the use of a manufactured threat, but should Himmler take power, he will use that manufactured sense of threat to expand his executive powers and undermine democracy, just like Yockey. Both fascist leaders' biggest financial backers were weapon manufacturers, and nothing was quite as profitable as just taking land and real estate from people through Destiny Manifest, Lebensraum, and Terra Nullius — basically, might-makes-right expansionism.

However, acknowledging any of this would be to expose the same forces at work with the governments of the Commonwealth and Francois Republic, which manufacture consent for war profiteering and colonialism by obfuscating, liberal-sounding language. Traditional racism based on biology and skin tone became replaced with liberal racism, which found ways to pit liberal rights against each other always to produce illiberal results that perpetuated the same hierarchy as under traditional racism. The religious freedom of Universalists versus GLBT rights would result in justifying more discrimination for gay people. In contrast, the religious freedom of Legalists versus those same GLBT would be used to discriminate against Legalists. A good liberal knows how to see through the cynical use of liberalism to reproduce inequality. Likewise, socialists knew Himmler's use of socialist slogans and names was disingenuous. It was the classic example of a grifter who was bought and paid for to make sure socialism did not happen in Germania when people were desperate for a new, anti-plutocratic government.

In the Allied Kingdom and the Francois Republic, it has become increasingly apparent to people that every time their workers' parties got into power, they pivoted towards neoliberal policies. The more society wanted to reform capitalism or move past capitalism, the more these so-called workers' parties would suddenly just fracture, kicking out their more radical members. The communists increasingly gave up on electorialism due to the feeling of how rigged the system was, and so did liberals like me, who also could see the constant betrayals of politicians using reform co-opting strategies similar to Himmler to make sure nothing too unprofitable for plutocrats ever occurred.

As I approached my destination, I activated my spell suite granted me by Tanya's innate magic (barrier, acceleration, pain numbing, duplicate illusions) and summoned my weapons contained in Sonnetto's alchemy and my mandates. The hands of my upper arms had Sonnetto's favorite dual pistols, while my lower pair held the pair of spousal blades gifted to me by Emperor Zhu and Empress Ma. (How I was supposed to return swords now tied to my soul was beyond me.)

Time moved slowly for me in my accelerated state. I could see the faces of the Brown Shirts. Far from alien and monstrous, these were my fellow countrymen. They were neighbors and perhaps even family members. These were primarily young men who had been radicalized in the well-funded youth groups, and they received a wage for the terrorism they exacted now. Paramilitary groups don't simply recruit bigots. They recruit those among us who don't have many options.

It was like this for the AAA in Argentum in many respects.

It was like this for the impoverished and racially marginalized Eirish and Ildoans whom the Silver Legion recruited to be their Enforcers and union busters.

It was like this for Tanya, whose life of violence was involved in at least her perceived lack of control and desperation. Enlisting and becoming a magical officer was her bid to avoid a worse fate.

Does irrationality embedded in the desire to control one's life push us towards these evil organizations and deeper into the carnage they bring? Tanya went from being an aerial spotter to being an aerial mage, even though being an aerial spotter was statistically safer because having a gun in her hands made her feel safer even though Calamity invested a lot of her safety and control over her life in the gun, that also led her to naively participate in the slaughter and suppression of the Dakota people. To have control and to control how the plutocrat grants your wish at a terrible price.

I think that in dehumanizing the Nazi grunts, we eliminate the very human reasons they became Nazi grunts in the first place -- that is to say, the thing in them that is also in us.

Pulling from Sonnetto's experience, I could see how the leaders in the Legalist nationalism movement promised people motorbikes, work, and a wife. For young men, it isn't religion that makes them join; it is the desire to have a life. The motorbike was a huge increase in what a person can do. It was freedom itself, much like the computation orb was to the aerial mage. The work fed and housed them and gave them reasons to be optimistic again. When the plutocrats scooped up all the real estate and facilities, pricing so many people out of life, there were always plenty of homeless, starving people who would turn to the Legalist nationalists for an escape. As for the wives, I think many people are victims of having an abstraction of the spouse we want to have at some point — the immature fantasy. The women join because they are starving and homeless, too. It's better to be some guy's wife than dead...sometimes…

Obviously, this wasn't to excuse sexism and gender violence such arrangements cause, but in refusing to empathize, we cannot actually address the underlying needs. Moralizing will always fall on deaf ears when a person's basic needs are not being met, just as a person who lives in comfort cannot begin to be ethical or even pragmatic if they cannot understand the material and historical contexts of those suffering.

That was, in part, why Tanya had crafted the Mages of Interpol the way she did. It gave destitute mage veterans a better option than joining organized crime. While the MIs policed mages, it also created precedence within the collective consciousness of holding power accountable. The non-mages understood that mages had this immense capacity to wreak havoc if not held accountable for the usage of their power. While non-mages definitely went overboard due to their ignorance of magic and the marginalizing nature overwhelming majorities in democratic governments, it did not take much effort to simply replace the mage in this equation with any institution or group of people with oversized power.

That left me as I watched these people in slow-mo react to my Agent Nichts disguise to wonder what steps we might take to steer people away from working for fascist and mafia-like organizations. As the leading authority on magical crime and magical law enforcement in this world, I felt obligated to think about this. Having seen mage prisons and having a personal connection with Calamity, I had plenty of reason to believe that just locking up every mage who looked at a non-mage funny and pressing them into military service was unideal. This also applies to people who were desperate for all sorts of reasons other than being a veteran mage and having all the life-long struggles that came with that.

"I am Agent Nichts. I have been alerted there of violence directed towards mages here."

It took a few seconds to realize they couldn't possibly understand me at my overclocked speed and forgot to activate my onerous thought-to-speech spell, so I dropped the acceleration part of my spell suite when I was sure they couldn't immediately threaten me. It was always difficult to remember to do that sometimes because it did not feel like you were thinking a hundred kilometers a minute until you got out of the acceleration and realized you could have written a book with the amount of thoughts running through your head. I didn't like using the thought-to-speech spell, even with the improvements, because it was an absolute pain to apply compared to Sonnetto's other alchemy. Kakania Ugar, for all her talents, had not made the spell all that user friendly yet.

I repeated my statement.

Several of them stepped forward, their leader and his fellow mage supremacist buddies. The leader had a nasty scar on his face where a mage blade must have hit him. With an injury like that, he carried the memory of the war with him, and it was not uncommon for people with such injuries to have very few options. Still, I'm not excusing what he is doing, but I knew providing some disincentives for fascistic violence would go a long way. I just needed to go through the process.

"Step out of the way, Agent Nichts, and let us eliminate the vermin behind you."

"I have the right to stand here as much as you. Also, that is criminal intent, sir. That is enough for me to arrest you on the spot, but I am feeling generous. If you and your buddies stand down, disarm, and go home, I won't have to remind you why I have the highest takedown record among the MIs."

He paused and then gestured for some non-mages to surround him. I hated when these bastards used non-mages as human shields.

I could maybe nonlethally take them down as I did with the Silver Legion's forces, but to repeat that, I would have to use my Solidarity powers again. There was no telling how I would react to blending my will with those of this community, given how close I was to this neighborhood. I could already tell how joining my will to that of the socialist revolution in America has distorted my thinking, and I had multiple degrees of separation there. Here, I didn't. Just testing one of those solidarity threads sent a bout of rage into me that would be hard for me to manage. I was already running hot. The formulae Tanya used regularly to stay 'logical' in combat may be the only thing keeping me from going on a violent rampage.

"Agent Nichts, glad you were nearby," came a voice suddenly to my right.

I turned to see Elya, who had spoken, and the ace of the Angels, Borislava Kransi. In the distance, I saw Rex and Ramona Mercer.

Even though I knew Borislava could probably handle all of these people on her own. She was admittedly a more powerful mage than Tanya had been and probably the most skilled mage I knew from the communist bloc after the late Avgust Zimin. However, she was not legally allowed to be in Germania and was not likely to hold back against fascist grunts.

"What are your orders, Senior Officer?" I inquired, deflecting responsibility for managing this situation onto my superior.

When in doubt, toss it to your boss.

"I am off duty, Sonata, and don't have a permit for military-grade orbs like you," Elya replied. "You will have to handle this yourself. However, I came out to tell you that there are civilians trapped inside, and they won't be able to flee with Brown Shirts terrorizing the area."

Welp, there comes the manager's uno reverse card: when in doubt, delegate.

Elya probably only came out because she had Borislava there as protection.

Borislava leaned closer to me and spoke softly. "You keep them back, and I won't intervene, but I won't let them past me. I don't care about your laws when they fail to protect innocent lives and refuse to stop fascists."

Way to put me on the spot, guys.

Call me biased, but I think a Clearance B works here. No one walks in my neighborhood and messes with my friends and community.

I popped my neck and then spread out my mana.

"Unlawful destruction of hospitals, medical facilities, and cultural centers like this institute is considered an international crime under the jurisdiction of Interpol."

I flicked both of my swords, coating them in mana, and carved a molten line in the cobblestone.

"Anyone who passes this line shall be subject to reasonable force to prevent damage to this structure as well in their apprehension."

There were hundreds of them, so they could reasonably believe that they could match me. Like always, the problem wasn't having too little power to handle the situation but too much. I really wished I had Fang Shiyu here. He made all of these situations a million times easier.

A brave non-mage tried to pass by my line, which admittedly was only two meters long, by going on my far side.

"No, don't!" the leader, who could feel the wave of mana swirl out of me and bash into the man.

I had to be careful. Sonnetto had told me that too much pressure from the mana could suffocate people, and so, like the Silver Legion, I had to err on holding back.

The man fell unconscious.

I quickly took my mana back. There might have been too much mana in that. It was still better than cutting the Brown Shirt in half, which would see my career over, no matter how justifiable it might seem. The world didn't work the way people might have liked. The rules that prevented me from just killing him also prevented MIs from just killing all other criminals. Rule of law and due process included limitations on law enforcement. At least, they should when acting professionally.

Regardless, this created a bit of a standoff situation. I wasn't getting back up. The MIs in this region were only available for a few reasons. I just had to continue the pressure.

"Okay, we will leave the institute alone," the leader declared. "Everyone, let's head out to our next target."

As they started to file out, our standoff continued. I walked with them. One of the Brown Shirts picked up the unconscious body of their buddy. Borislava Kransi stayed at the institute to protect it…which was better than not having anyone. Part of me found myself lingering on her emerald eyes a bit longer than I wanted.

"Get your head in the game, Sonata," Sonnetto reminded me playfully as she occupied Tanya's attention.

Easy for her to say. She had someone and didn't have to deal with having an embodied existence. I was becoming more and more than just the sum of Tanya and Sonnetto as I made my own decisions and had my own experiences. How bizarre that the Mandate of the Unknown Self would create yet another person. My relationship with Tanya and Sonnetto was closer than Sonnetto's to Roxanne, but like gradient, there was not a definable point in which this person ceased to be them and became me.

Still, I was also responsible for not just my life but theirs since we shared a fate.

The Brown Shirts nervously watched me. They knew what the old Agent Nichts was capable of, and my mana signature read just like hers. Even the wings were familiar, as the Type-95 would create them when Tanya used it back before it fused with her. However, the extra arms, swords, and ability to conjure invisible waves that knocked people unconscious caught them off guard. Nothing was scarier than the unknown.

We walked to a Legalist place of worship, and I reminded them that those are also under international protection from paramilitary thugs like them. Then we came to a store that just so happened to have a Heartist owner.

"You're going to tell me that destroying this is a crime against humanity, too," the leader spat with all the contempt he could muster.

"A mage ordering non-mages to do violence to non-mages or their property also falls under my jurisdiction," I replied with some smugness. "Because such use of mundane force comes with the implicit threat of magic being used."

"And if Lukas here gave the order?" He raged back at me.

"I already know you are in charge. It is too late to delegate authority or have the mages retreat. You all have given me more than enough reason to start applying force, which I will use at my discretion if any of you do anything I don't like."

"Then what was the point in having us walk all around Berun denying us over and over?"

I looked at the Brown Shirts behind him. Most of the non-mages lacked the magically assisted vitality to keep going. The sun was already setting. People were hungry, frustrated, and tired. Being angry is exhausting, and I prevent them from deriving perverse pleasure from being cruel and watching those who are suffering cry. They had lost a lot of their enthusiasm.


"Everyone," the leader shouted. "We are splitting up. You—"

Well, he was getting smart—sorry, man, whose name I never got. I flicked the blood off one of my swords and picked up his computation orb, which was still hot.

It took moments to realize what had just happened. The man had gotten far too comfortable with me and foolishly decided to turn his back on me. When he had distracted his cadre of Brown Shirts, I accelerated into him and took him out. It was a decapitation strike in multiple ways. My attack went beyond reasonable force, which is why you shouldn't combine anger with lethal force.

I flew up above the crowd, letting my six wings fully extend. It was like being a cat who puffed up its fur to seem more significant than it was.

"I am on patrol in this area, and don't you dare try me. I have fought for multiple days back-to-back without rest or little food. You will not catch me unaware. You will not escape. Put out your torches and go home because if I see any of you so much as light one or scratch a building or person, you will wish you were in hell."

I may have gone overboard with my language and decapitation, but it seemed effective. Splitting up doesn't work if I can fly at 100 kmph and put out threats quickly.

They put out their torches and started dispersing. Being fascist assholes doesn't happen all that much when there are actual and swift consequences.

Still, I had to keep my promise of vigilance. If someone tested my threat and I failed to stop them, it might encourage others.

I groaned. They were the only ones exhausted from anger.

"Senior Officer Müller, can I borrow some of your mana?" I asked, using the standard communication spell through one of the tattoos I had applied.

"Don't take too much, please. I don't want to fall unconscious suddenly."

"You know you can give me the mana yourself instead of me taking it. I try not to do that since it is, you know…can cause problems."

It was Elya's first time, but she got the hang of doing it. With the mana transfusion, I was in better shape. It was going to be a long night.

"Sonata, do you have time to discuss the plan to prevent the national socialist rise to power?"

What she told me was…going to have consequences — lots of consequences. Honestly, I probably would have refused her before tonight, but given how close my old neighborhood had come to being put to the torch, it made it really clear that I couldn't just sit on my hands here.

Speaking of sitting on my hand….

"Elya…would you please clock back in."

"Sorry, legally, I can't. Plus, be careful asking me to work. You can get in trouble."

That was another big difference between Tanya's past life and this world's Germania. In Japan, if your boss needs you to work, you better work. That is what it means to be a team player, and if you didn't respond right away, that would adversely impact your evaluation. At the beginning of Tanya's career, it wasn't unusual to be in crunch time for months on end. Because they had constant labor shortages, it wasn't uncommon for her to guzzle coffee and work past midnight for the company. For her hard work and proving how useful she could be, she got a middle manager position. She even finally started having her ideas listened to at the company before her death.

"Sonata, do not act like I haven't been working hard," Elya messaged me. "I have to use almost all my free time to get this pulled off. I am tired as hell, and right now, despite that exhaustion and donating mana to you, I am still helping some people from South Afrika who need someone to guide and protect them through Berun."

She must have overheard my thoughts, which I directed at her. The solidarity bond between Tanya and Elya was understandably strong, given what they had done together. Well, Neither Tanya nor I were in Japan anymore, and both of us knew that such ways of thinking had only made her life worse.

I technically was breaking some rules myself by working way past my designated clock-out time, but I think history will exonerate my labor violation right now…. Ugh, the union back in Abya Yala better be understanding.

---

Author Notes:
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The title is a reference to Dog Day Afternoon, which has an interesting story behind it.

Major Sources:

1. Parenti, Michael. Blackshirts and Reds. 1997
2. Toscano, Alberto. Late Fascism. Verso. 2023

Video I liked:
https://youtu.be/npkeecCErQc?si=1ObidWI7Gzk--Toq

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Last time on MI15:

• Calamity was taken to Germania to stand trial for killing a Silver Shirt who was about to murder an unarmed mage.
• Roxanne's only child, Alexander "Rex" Magnus II, meets Sonata.
• Sonata stopped Brown Shirts from burning down the Institute of Gender and Sexuality in her old neighborhood.
• Elya is planning something, and Sonata has her role to play.

---

The Eagle's Nest - July 1954

I had not gotten enough sleep between holding back Himmler's terrorists and making arrests while short-staffed in Berun. I was also a pretty anxious mess this week, understandably. Most people would be in my situation.

The national news, with all its expensive printing presses and valuable relationships with government insiders, characterized my actions as unwanted interference by Interpol, suggesting that local law enforcement could have handled the situation. I had the sensation of intense mental whiplash from this compared to coverage of Tanya's actions in 1950. The local law enforcement almost never gets sufficiently involved in these things in part because the local police's leadership supported the Brown Shirt's actions, as evidenced by the number of times police and thugs have attacked Tanya and her friends as they left a lgbt hangouts at night.

The only good coverage I got was from the expected ones. The Friendship Associations and the Lesbian papers depicted me as their ally in law enforcement. They advocated for Interpol to be more proactive in protecting minorities from the violence of the state and government. The Moscva-funded press rained praise upon me while encouraging its readership to see Interpol as the only legitimate law enforcement body in the imperialist West. Then, there were the other socialist, feminist, and demographic-oriented newspapers, each of which said some combination of the above. The overall idea I got was a lot of people did not think their government represented their interests anymore, and there was a rage at the government's blatant inaction from stopping what has been years of unchecked brutality and the police's complicity.

"Sonata, were you ego-searching?" Tanya inquired, amused and perplexed.

"What is…oh, this is too funny," Sonnetto said as she accessed the appropriate knowledge from her partner and broke out in a chuckle.

I could not help but blush. Unlike Tanya, I wanted to know what people were saying about me. Everything I seemed to do caused these vast shockwaves through the world, and I didn't want to be caught off guard.

"Keep telling yourself that," Sonnetto countered, continuing to break the tension before our big mission started with some much-needed humor.

"No, I think Sonata has a point," Tanya stated, rubbing her chin in thoughtful obliviousness. "We should be trying to detect trends so we can better plan. We can't just keep reacting to world events."

We kept talking as I flew. When I arrived at the meeting place with Himmler and his donors, I admit I was taken aback by what I saw, though I had to stifle a yawn.

I admit this was beautiful on top of a mountain where Rudolph Himmler put one of his illicitly funded holiday homes known as the Kehlsteinhaus.

The man did not come from money, so he had this excited energy of actually having it. The desire common among the nouveau riche to resemble aristocrats and classy people also animated him. He wanted to prove himself to me and his old money donors, who had also shown up. It kind of reminded me of my friend in college who would also look at those penthouse suites in Tokyo and say how he would do anything to be rich like that. Well, Rudolph definitely put extra emphasis on 'anything'.

He had even driven up to this holiday home in a 20,000 R.M. luxury Merkedes-Benz he bought with embezzled party funds. This was well-known even within his party, which had criticized him for malfeasance and outside Interpol's jurisdiction. The man was a shameless fraudster in every way.

"Isn't it just beautiful?" Rudolph Himmler asked me in this proud, folksy way.

I covered my mouth with my hand in a rather nostalgically Japanese way when I 'talked'. I had to obscure my use of the thought-to-speech spell somehow.

"As beautiful as it is, it is lonely at the top," I replied after taking it all end.

"What do you mean?" Rudolph responded with arched eyebrows.

"You don't have any neighbors up here. You can't have a block party or anything like that."

"Well, it is a holiday home, Mrs Degurechaff. I also have a small chalet that is more down to earth, which I purchased with the proceeds from my book."

"Well, every politician has to have a book," I commented with forced neutrality.

Honestly, I didn't know which name they would use for me, given that Victoria Truman was my Silver Legion alias. Apparently, Rudolph knew Tanya from General Erich von Rudersdorf. It was good that Victoria was similar enough to Tanya that people who knew both wouldn't be thrown off.

"You should write a sequel to The White Silver Manifesto," he recommended enthusiastically. "I am sure it would sell very well, and I would be happy to promote it if you put your backing behind my bid for the chancellorship."

I forced a smile but did not respond.

"I am serious. People really need to know your thoughts and the story of your struggle. Everything people write about you is completely wrong, but they don't listen to us Germanians."

"There is a lot I want to say, and I might publish something eventually. Son— I mean, I have quite the passion for journalizing my thoughts and experiences."

"I would love to read them if you let me," he offered with genuine enthusiasm that made it clear why people liked him. The man was a monster, but he was the monster who could tap into the desires of those he spoke to. "My cruel imprisonment for being a Germanian with a conscience definitely gave me a lot of time to think and write, but my current volume I dictated for our party's campaign this year. All those plane flights and campaign stops are a real marathon, but we Great War veterans can handle anything the world throws at us."

If only he had been executed for being a traitor. While his continued living baffled Tanya, given her regular paranoia about firing squads, Sonnetto and I had a far more cynical outlook.

"So how was being treated like a goddess?" the politician inquired when I didn't respond. "It must have been quite nice having all those adoring worshippers who did whatever you told you."

"It was misery and pain. I wanted to die. Anything I could do to escape it." My confession threw him for a loop, so I continued. "Power controls you, not you it. It fills you with paranoia. It demands your constant vigilance. It hurts and hurts and hurts. If heavy is the crown for empresses, then the goddess' crown will break a person's neck with its weight."

"I am not following."

"All-powerful leaders find themselves constantly watching out for assassins and backstabbers. Their food might be poisoned," I answered, drawing on Sonnetto's experiences as Roxanne. "The more powerful, the more enviable your power becomes to those near you. Then, you have your zealots, Silver Shirts, in my case. They expect a goddess to be perfect. They will constantly speak for you to justify their selfish desires, taking advantage of your authority. However, if you use your authority to say something they disagree with, they will ignore you, misinterpret you, or even believe you aren't the actual goddess. You end up having to speak this language of nonsense with your zealots just to get them to do what you want them to do."

I let that sink in momentarily before concluding: "So no, I did not like being treated as an empress, goddess, or whatever. I don't want that, and people would be wise to heed my warning not to take that path."

My words put him off balance, so he awkwardly gestured to the fancy house. I got a feeling that he had adjusted his opinion of me considerably after my words. It was that look when a person decided you didn't know what you were talking about and should listen to them instead. My job here wasn't to save Rudolph from himself.

"Why don't we go inside?" He suggested. "I will introduce you to Henry and the others if you haven't met. When I get into the office, I really plan on amassing a painting collection. Oh, and we are thinking about doing an expedition to find Thor's Hammer."

These guys and their vanity projects annoy me sometimes, mainly because they remind me too much of Yockey and Diamond. Does it matter if you own the painting if you can just see it in a museum or get a copy of it? Tanya wanted peaceful work and love, and Sonnetto was seeking connection and meaning. An expensive painting didn't have much value to either of them.

"I think one really should not measure one's wealth in terms of hollow status symbols but in relationships and happiness," I opined honestly. "The more unequal a society becomes through the accumulation of status, the less happy everyone becomes — both those with much status and those with little. Such disparity causes tension, erodes relationships, and, at the end of that path, one will find the afflictions of loneliness and lovelessness."

My mouth became a bit wet from the emotion, and the thought-to-speech spell translated the sadness I had not intended to leak out.

"I don't know what research you read, but my lived experience and the lived experience of the Germanians I have spoken to tell a very different story," Rudolph retorted as he opened the door for me. "Men are languishing in unemployment as Dacians take all their jobs. Loose city women smoke cigarettes and experiment with all sorts of perversion. In contrast, women in the countryside, plagued with so-called equality, can't balance their work responsibilities and taking care of the kids. We of the NSP know that we have to start putting our people first again, reclaim our lost territories, return to natural family values, and, most importantly, we have to punish those who backstabbed us."

What was scary was that his rhetoric was oddly reminiscent of what I heard around the world countless times before Interpol had another crime against humanity on its hands.

Having to listen to Rudolph talk about his painting hobby did not do my gut any favors. I kind of had to lean into the surrealness of my situation as I gathered evidence for arresting all these people. Interpol was on standby as I discreetly transmitted what I was hearing. I was invited inside.

I had transformed into Tanya before she mutated. I could control my Silver Mirror as long as people had seen that person before, and everyone in Germania knew what Agent Nichts looked like from Interpol's work and what Tanya looked like from her infamous arrest by Mary Sue. The only big difference between Tanya von Weiss and Victoria Truman was that Victoria had professionally styled hair and a dress that made her look like an I Love Lucy character. Honestly, transforming my body was like wearing old clothes that didn't fit anymore. I couldn't be that Tanya anymore without feeling uncomfortable and my authentic self leaking out like a muffin top.

As for my default form, I may have tweaked my body some. Anyone would…I think. I didn't want it to be noticeable because I was shy about it. So far, it has been just a few things. I gave myself a boost up top and got myself over 150cm tall again/finally. Not too much yet, but I wanted to be at least able to drive a car in places without mass transit without too much difficulty. We had to abide by no-fly zones in some cities, even as Interpol. Being able to drive once more / for the first time would be freeing in a way.

I don't think Matheus has picked up on it yet.

"He has," Sonnetto commented. "He is just being polite. He is the kind of person who doesn't comment on things he doesn't understand, and the topic is a minefield for him."

Well, that made sense, but it made me wonder how she knew that and I didn't.

"It is because she is guessing," Tanya commented before redirecting my attention.

Rudolph showed me around his paint studio. I commented a bit on his supplies, trying my best not to look at his face with its Charlie Laplin mustache. The more I pretended like he was just a guy, the easier it was not to freak out. I needed to justify my actions to the world and let him demonstrate to me why he was a threat.

"Do you like painting?" he inquired as I thumbed through his sketchbook.

"I do."

Many of the pictures in the sketchbook were of streets and buildings, using more classical, renaissance, and neoclassical styles—basically, the styles associated with the high points in Western imperial culture. Rudolph had copied some artists.

"You know, I plan on getting quite the painting collection," he commented. "One of my goals when I get into the chancellorship is to revitalize Germanian culture."

I hummed neutrally. He was a moderately ambitious amateur.

"One of my goals has been to reverse the degeneration of our culture," he continued while passing me works from his collection to 'appreciate.' "The experimental and modernist styles of the Heartists and Bolsheviks are complete madness. Where is the beauty? Where is the vitality of the people? We are at a turning point in history, and we need to remember that people like you are, by virtue of your natural beauty and strength, the ruling race. It is in your nature to rule over the world. It is through reclaiming our culture, like through art, that we will also save our people."

By Tanya being the ruling race, he meant that she was a blonde, blue-eyed mage, not this world's version of a goddess with a mandate to rule from Being X. It didn't make a difference if one called it the master race, mandate, goddess, ruling class, royalty, or whatever — Tanya, Sonnetto, and I were not interested in such things.

"Do you agree?"

"Huh," I blinked.

"Do you agree that we need to revitalize our culture?" the would-be dictator repeated.

"Art is not about looking beautiful or strong, but it is about culture," I commented softly with my spell. I had the painting discreetly covering my mouth. "I think it is about helping us hear what we can't hear and see what we cannot see."

"What do you mean?"

"You are touching onto something real and taking it in the wrong direction. I think there is a lot of misinformation in our culture. People are spreading messages — propaganda. That distorts our sense of reality. Couple that with our desire to hear what we want to hear and see what we want to see, and we can't see what is actually going on. Good art should shatter that illusion."

I stared in the corner of the room as the man chewed on my words.

"But you agree with me, though?" he asked as if that mattered most.

"Yes," I lied while my mouth actually said no. My curses allowed me to say anything I wanted under my breath without being heard by those who didn't get me.

Then, I yawn despite myself.

"Sleepy, huh?" someone asked me from my right.

"Yeah, I haven't gotten much sleep this last week."

"Well, if you need to rest after dinner, we have a guest room."

"Thanks," I replied before realizing I was talking to Eva Himmler. "No! I mean, I have some work to do when dinner is over."

"Really? What do you do for work?"

I blinked at Eva's question. How was I supposed to answer this?

"It's complicated," I answered, pinching myself to stay away. "I can't really talk about it."

"You really should find yourself a good husband like my Rudolph. It must be tough taking care of yourself all on your own."

I dumbly nodded, trying to wait for people to give me an out to get the crime stuff discussed discreetly. Elya and Masquerade were way better at this than me. Just tell me where to point my gun instead of having to navigate entrapment.

"Do you have any family? I believe I heard you were an orphan." The woman definitely did not know much about Tanya.

"I have a father and a sister," I stated, wondering what they were up to.

"You know you could have invited them if you liked."

"My father had another dinner with our family, my aunts and uncles and their kids."

"Oh, I hope we were not keeping you from a family gathering."

"No, I wasn't invited."

"Oh my, why?"

I stuttered as I tried to formulate a response. Around me were countless people who were far more extreme than any of my family was. It hit me that I was here pretending to be the Old Tanya and failing that hard.

"You know you could just ask me to help you?" the woman in my soul commented. "No better expert on Tanya than—"

"Me," Sonnetto interjected. "Sorry, dear, but you have to grant me this."

"Political differences," I answered Eva while ignoring the couple being silly inside me.

"Are they…extremists?" the woman pressed with pity in her eyes.

My left eye twitched. "Not the worst kind."

"Well, if you ever need people with a sound head on their heads, you can always talk to us," she said with a warm smile. "You are a hero, Mrs. Degurechaff, and I think my Rudolph would love to have you over anytime."

How do I describe my feelings right now? I can't begin to find words. I think I have even gotten past the point where screams would prove adequate.

"What about your sister?" Eva asked, misreading my inner turmoil. "You mentioned her earlier."

"We actually live together, but she is indisposed right now." In prison because of your husband's insistence.

We chatted about a few more things before the topic inevitably turned to what people like Eva always liked to ask me and my two halves.

"Have you thought about getting married and having children?" Eva inquired, trying to keep my eye contact as I kept glancing at her husband and other guys in the room for evidence.

"I have," I stated while covering my mouth with a napkin. "But I want to find that special someone, if that makes sense, before I think about taking care of another person."

"What do you mean?"

"After the invasion, I mean the war, I had a, I mean, there was a child."

I furrowed my brow. Kakania and Rex blended in my fused mind. Both were here in Germania right now. While Kakania was like my adopted niece, Rex was Roxanne's child. Language did not exist for people in situations like mine.

I took a deep breath as I eavesdropped and just let myself go on autopilot while President Ropen and Rudolph Himmler made a deal over getting the chancellorship.

"Someone who was my son showed up recently, and I don't really know what to think," I stated after the words formed in my mouth correctly.

"You had a child?! I am so sorry."

"Don't be. I was a different person back then. I didn't have a lot of choices. The war cost us so much, and it would ensure the safety of my family and countless others to give him what he wanted. My family prepared me for my purpose, wrapped me up in pretty cloth, and delivered me to him like a Goddess Day gift."

Eva took my hand, causing me to refocus on her. "That must have been really hard for you. I know a lot of women were taken after the war, but you escaped to America, didn't you."

She could see I didn't have a wedding band.

"Uhhh, not immediately, but I ended up there against my will where they tried to…." I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Do you want to stop talking?" She pressed, forgetting about her meal.

I nodded and took my hands back. I realized my hands had started shaking again, so I put them in my lap, which meant no covering my mouth for now.

"I understand if you need some time. My husband and many of his friends have the Rhine Dreams, too."

Despite how surreal this conversation ended up being, I kind of needed it. People kind of didn't talk to me about what happened to Tanya or Sonnetto, who really only had each other and me. Being a fusion, however, prevented our comforting of each other from having the same profound effect of an external source of comfort and support. Matheus, in particular, was not great at asking me questions because he found unfamiliar topics intimidating, and I was like the epitome of unfamiliar topics.

President Ropen noticed our conversation at this point. He knew Tanya von Degurechaff was Agent Nichts because those were state secrets, but he was not privy to my arrest plans. He got me integrated into the conversation with the guys. I decided to use this opportunity to steer things so I could end this dinner before I fell asleep or snapped.

"What is your relationship with the Brown Shirts?" I inquired at the table as I lowered my napkin and pretended to eat.

I couldn't stomach any food right now, even if I would need the calories for my own mana generation. I owed Masquerade and Elya many thanks for doing things like this regularly as part of their work.

"Edwin, Helene, Fritz, and I have been big supporters of that initiative," Gustav answered. "Though I hope you don't mind me saying, we need to do something about Agent Nichts. Her arrests really demoralized them. We expected more from them given how much funding we are giving them."

"Yeah," Fritz Dyssen, a steel manufacturer, popped in with a bit of aggravation. "Rudolph, get the act of the Brown Shirts together. I need them to strike fear in anyone daring to organize at my factories, and this so-called 'Hero of Democracy' is making them look like a joke. We need to take power before we have a communist revolution on our hands. People are getting organized, and without law to push out Interpol and their internationalist Heartist masters, the Brown Shirts can't help us crush the revolution before it happens. It is either us or the Heartists, and I think I speak for everyone here that I will not go down without a fight."

The President coughs into his hand to get everyone's attention.

"Getting that all figured out is part of the deal Rudolph and I have been working on over the last couple of days," the man explained, glancing at me. "But why don't we change subjects."

Well, that explained the negative press I got from the major newspapers who valued their relationship with designated 'leakers' in Ropen's cabinet. 'Leaks' of tolerably embarrassing information had a lot of immediate credibility and could be used to direct policy objectives with plausible deniability. Apparently, my reputation was not as valuable as a cozy relationship with the President's staff and their pre-packaged stories granted to the press, who didn't fact-check them beyond tolerable partisanship slants. Even the national newspapers knew Rudolph was bad news for them, so the dictator-wannabe and them butted heads constantly. The man copied Yockey with the constant Lügenpresse accusations and redirected the source of truth to his own publications. There was no court dragging Rudolph's ignorance through the mud, though.

"No, I am curious," I continued with a crooked smile working itself on my face. "Do you all regularly give orders to the Brown Shirts?"

President Ropen went pale.

"Are you okay?" Eva wondered, looking worried too.

"Just a bit exhausted, so pardon me," I replied, schooling my features with professional ease. "I am just curious how all you got involved with that organization. I have friends in high places who are curious."

That put some of the others in the room who had probably noticed my subconscious enraged glaring that slipped out upon occasion.

What followed was a steady stream of who was involved and how they got involved, as well as how my 'powerful friends' and I could help pool money.

"I need to excuse myself," the President quickly stated as he realized my own bit of underhanded tactics.

"I recommend the porch," I commented with a small grin. "You look like you could use some fresh air."

Once the patio door shut down behind President Ropen, a SWAT team of Interpol agents crashed the dinner at Elya's signal. We could arrest non-mages for magical crimes if they ordered mages to commit crimes. The League of Nations in this world had no issue with arresting rich assholes, as the crackdowns on the Silver Legion's plutocrats and their diaspora demonstrated.

The screams, how familiar — how much did Visha and her family cry to their attacks on Russy? How much did Kakania shut herself in her house because her anxiety went out of control? How many of my friends in the Schönenberg district get brutalized by your thugs when I did nothing? We worked for years to get Schönenberg to become an island of freedom in a world that did not have a place for people like Tanya, Sonnetto, and me. They were about to wipe away all of that.

Despite how well this had paid off, I feared what would have happened had it not. I would have to kill him and his buddies, which might have caused WWII due to how massive a public incident that would have been. A more discreet assassination would have been pinned on the communists. A more overt attack where a Geramania picked up on one of the blendings of Tanya and Sonnetto's mana signatures might figure it out it was me. Then, it would be pinned on the League of Nations.

Now, hopefully, Rudolph Himmler, his brother, and their backers would be headed off to their prison. With any luck, they will spend the rest of their lives in some prison in Tejas with the other war criminals, and Rudolph can write and paint to his heart's content without hurting another person again. I am sure the commies would have liked me to have killed him, but again, pragmaticism required a scapple, not a hammer. Fantasizing about the maximizing suffering of one's enemies was what fascists did, and I would not be like them.

"Good job doing your part, Tanya," Elya messaged me. "Now get some sleep, Sonata. It is my shift, and you have been working way too long."

---

Hotel in Berun - July, 1954

Matheus got back to the hotel after dinner with his family. When the aerial mage opened the door, he noticed a stranger with a rifle over her shoulder and two pistols. He got ready to defend himself only to find that he didn't have his computation orb in the spot it should be.

"Stand down, Matheus," Sonata stated. "Everything is safe."

He came into the room to find the table with five people around it. Two people he didn't know — a middle-aged-seeming native Abya Yalan woman and a young Eastern Mediterranean man. Then there were Sonata, Tanya, and Sonnetto. The fusion was projecting them with optical illusion magic, which was a handy trick. Those three were constantly innovating with their powers to compensate for their unique situation.

Around the room were four Persian Immortals — theoretically unkillable homunculi royal guards that had once served Emperor Cassander.

Matheus slid into a chair at the table. Where to begin…

"Your aunts and uncles were sorry you couldn't come," he stated, deciding to just go with his mental script. "But Kevin said he can visit us tomorrow with his kids. Are you okay with that?"

The three-in-one women had a private conversation before Sonata spoke on their behalf. "That would be fine with us."

"We had a wonderful spaghetti dinner. I brought some back in case you haven't had anything. Did you go out to dinner yet?"

It was late, but Tanya always tended to stay up late when she was working a lot. From Sonata's appearance, they must have been absolutely exhausted.

"We had dinner with another family, but I should still use some food," the fusion replied.

"Oh, that was nice. Did you have fun?"

"No," Tanya signed. From the looks of it, Sonata's thought-to-speech spell had completely depleted itself.

"What did the other family do?" Now, he was worried something really bad had happened.

"It wasn't what they did, but they were going to do," Tanya answered with a rare bout of rage billowing in her wave-like hair.

"What they already did was pretty bad," Sonata added.

"I think Eva was nice," Sonnetto finished, earning judging glances from the other two. "I mean, she meant well even if she was confused."

Matheus didn't know any 'Eva'. Maybe Sonata had finally started dating again.

"That aside," Sonata continued, directing her attention at the unknown young man. "Rex, we have to talk about your choice of friends."

She gestured to the woman next to him, and he wrote something on a piece of paper in Persian as a reply.

"'What is wrong with her?' You ask. Ramona almost killed Sonnetto, Rex." Sonata and Tanya were understandably upset.

Matheus was reeling from that revelation as the young man wrote his response.

"It was only an accident because she was trying to kill Tanya, and Sonnetto got in the way!" Sonata replied. Tanya and she threw their hands in the air. Sonnetto tried to calm them down.

"Excuse me," Matheus interjected. "May someone explain what is going on here?"

Sonata got up and walked up to him. The woman was angry, exhausted, and hungry — the most dangerous combo.

"May I?" she grumbled, gesturing at the leftovers. "I am going to bed soon. Matheus, we will have to have some family conversations, especially after Amber's trial ends, but long story short—" Sonata took some much-needed bites, making it very clear she was tapped out in multiple ways. A mage has to eat. Then, she cleared her throat and finished her thought. "--you might become a grandfather."

He glanced at the young man with a headscarf. The teenager waved at him optimistically.

What in the world happened while I was gone?

 

[LoreleiFlowers]

Cell Block D - La Santé Prison, Francois Republic

Amber "Calamity" Canary lay in a lice-infested cot in La Santé prison that the powers at be had sent her. Because the Republic was a colonial country, the prison leaders divided it by ethnicity and origin. Cell Block A was for Western Europeans, Block B for Black Africans, Block C for North Africans, and Block D for the rest of the world, which included Americans and Abya Yalans like Calamity. A rat squeezed through her threadbare blanket, and she kicked at it weakly.

Her cellmate, a member of the American diaspora, stood next to the wall with her head against the cell wall.

"Stop, Ranty," Calamity wheezed. "Please don't."

Calamity's lungs had filled with flem. With the mana limiters on her arms, her body was becoming increasingly weak. She had a mana body. That meant all of her was magical, so limiting her magic like this weakened not only her immune system but left her in a constant lethargy.

Still, despite that, Calamity got up and went to Ranty. The Francois inmate could understand Albish, so understand her. Ranty had fallen to self-harm and other diseases of despair in one of the centers where inmates waited for their trials. The Tejan held Ranty and soothed the woman until she backed off from the wall once again.

They sat together in their cell. Around them, other inmates attempted to get to sleep. The sound of people groaning from the bruises from beatings the guards had given them.

"What is wrong, Ranty," the Tejan asked, soothing her cellmate, who had become dangerously thin during her hunger strike.

"I am thinking about Henri."

"What about Henri."

"He disappeared before I looked for him."

"He could still be okay," Calamity commented optimistically.

"No, we saw them take him."

"Them who."

"The police and he isn't in the prisons here."

The Interpol officer frowned. "Where do you think they took him?"

"Wherever the ACPO takes those who lift the curtains," Ranty explained cryptically. "The army is colonizing our minds. They use the schools and the press to make us go along with becoming monsters."

The ACPO was the inter-army 'action politique' tasked with preventing 'subversion' in the Francois Republic. They had sued any major publication for defamation that criticized the Republic's foreign policy, particularly around the unconscionable repression activity the Francois army employed to keep their colonies and client-states under their control.

"Let's not think about that," Amber calmly said as she continued to hold the other war mage gently. "What is something you like, Ranty?"

"Music."

"I like myself some Johnny Nash myself. Who is your favorite musician?"

"Frank Sappa and the Machines."

Calamity hadn't heard of this band. The younger folks had different tastes than her. Punk music and all that didn't sound like much to her, but the other woman liked how it challenged the 'system'. Talking about Ranty's favorite singers got her to calm down.

"You know, back in America — I guess Abya Yala now — I often thought that it would be nice to be in prison," Ranty confessed while brushing her short, curly black hair out of her eyes. "I was kind of dumb that way."

"You aren't dumb."

The woman looked up at the prison window and looked at a street in Parii. "I thought it would be nice because, at least in prison, I would know that I would have a place inside to sleep, a bed, and food."

It was a gut punch every time people said these kinds of things. The American Penal Planation system, which took a revolution to abolish, was far worse. Nothing was off the table back then, from convict leasing to extracting and selling a prisoner's very blood. However, the Francois had their own way of making things extra miserable for their prisoners. Ranty had gone on a hunger strike for a reason — many reasons.

While waiting for a trial date, the prison required her to make fancy upholstery as one of the few activities available aside from books exclusively in Francois she couldn't read. There was some training for it, but it was factory work. Her flagging strength and health made doing the work harder than it should have been due to her mana being cut off.

At the end of the first month, the prison warden allowed people to see how much money they earned.

"This seems awfully low," Calamity commented, scratching where the bugs had bitten her.

"It is normal."

"Don't you have a minimum wage here?"

"Labor laws don't apply here, Tej," Ranty muttered, using Calamity's nickname. "You can trade some of your wages with the guards for drugs and such. Two or three joints a day is considered pretty standard here."

The Tejan glanced at her fellow inmates, all in sorry states from beatings, poor hygiene, and other violence met upon their bodies. It wasn't just hash and tobacco but also cocaine. Hash was just cheaper.

"I guess the guards are making some good money," Calamity Amb noted as her heart found a way to sink further.

"Yeah…I am so sorry, Tej, that you are here."

"It is not me that I am worried about, Ranty."

Eventually, Calamity was taken to the first day of her trial. She had a lawyer given to her for much of the hearing. The Tejan had only learned what was going on when her lawyer deigned to tell her. Her jury did not have a single mage on it. Anti-mage sentiment was high, given how much they were depicted as violence-addicted belligerents by the media. The Republic had a bail system, but it was rarely offered to people in her position. Even if it was, Calamity did not have enough money for bail.

The trial proceeded in Francois. From what she could get from her lawyer, the prosecutors were trying to make a case that she was deserved to incarcerated for the murder of a non-mage under international law. Normally, she would be tried in the country in which the murder happened. Since that murder happened in the Silver Legion's Unified States, which didn't really exist anymore and didn't comply with those international laws, the next determination would be her MI team's base location. That would be Germania, which just had a coup and might be on the verge of a civil war, so it ended up being the Francois Republic.

Due to lack of sleep and time to make herself presentable, Calamity Amb had unseemly bags under her eyes, and her hair had gotten so tousled that it looked like a mad woman's. Mana no longer kept her hair vibrant and quite alive. She couldn't even move it with her will anymore. Her lawyer had tried to fix it, but there was only so much they could do at the courthouse. Getting a comb was difficult since there was this fear that she or Ranty would hurt themselves with it if they had it.

Calamity Amb had to wear her magic-sealing shackles and institutional clothes, and the judge explained to her before the jury that it was because the Tejas gunner was a 'high risk' for numerous reasons, like her innate magic. She had not felt like herself since they had taken her clothes, which made her feel like a proper Tejan. Clothes were what connected a person to traditions and history, and losing that history went against Calamity Amb's whole ethos.

"May I have my prayer shawl at least?" she asked her lawyer. "I haven't gotten to pray with it since they confiscated my clothes and things."

"Religious clothes are forbidden in public institutions, but we can see about getting you it for use in the worship room at the prison."

She was agnostic, but she still participated in services and prayers. Part of her wanted in all her pain to ground herself. The traditions of her family would help her focus and pass the time.

"Can I have some Heartist books or really any books in Albish?"

"We can see," he answered while cleaning his glasses. "We can probably get you a Heartist holy books."

Her religion had texts, but they were not like the Swordists, Legalists, or Universalists who put their books as central to their faiths. Still, it would give her something to read. Religion was her path to have something, anything to read.

"Freedom Week is coming soon when we celebrate our ancestors' emancipation from slavery. May I attend a service or allow my family to visit me?"

She was told that the Francois authorities would allow a Heartist teacher to attend her for Freedom Week. I was a bit awkward celebrating that while in magic-sealing shackles and doing penal labor. Unfortunately, her family was inaccessible. Sonata and Matheus could not enter the Francois Republic as M15 and their immediate families were banned from the country. Mary Canary was locked up somewhere in Albion with her descendants. Also, they didn't want her to have any unvetted visitors who might try to break her out.

Calamity understood it was a secularist monocultural thing why she had all these limitations on her in this country. Every country has its customs. In Francois, one had liberty, equality, and fraternity through their cultural lens. Her old-fashioned cultural dress from her homeland and ancient religion did not fit in well with the local secularist and modernist customs regarding how a 'civilized' person should dress or base their morality.

Back in the prison, one of the guards tossed Calamity Amb her shawl like it was just a piece of cloth. It landed on the grimy floor. No place was clean. Dead skin and feces left by the mice and rats now coated the shawl.

Ranty obsessively wrote lyrics in the filth on the ground nearby. People often played games like tic-tac-toe, using the floor as a substitute for pen and paper, which they lacked.

"What's that?" Ranty inquired while hyperfocusing on getting each letter of the song in her head just right.

"It is a prayer shawl I made about thirty years ago with my sister's help. It is my second one. I made my first with my mother, but it became unrepairable after some time. My sister's had a lot of the same patterns so that I could use hers as a reference."

Calamity offered a look at the clean side to Ranty. "The patterns here go back over a thousand years. Each mother teaches her daughters so that they can remember the lessons and stories of their maternal line. Each pattern represents both one mother and one lesson or two. When teaching our kids or telling them bedtime stories, a shawl like this one here comes in handy. It is like a textbook of family knowledge."

"How do you remember what all of it means?"

"Well, how many songs do you know by heart, Ranty?"

"Touche, but singing makes it easier to remember."

"We sing our stories and lessons, too," Calamity added. It was true. Music was deeply ingrained in every culture, even counter-culture. Songs flowed through a people as much as any other part of a people or tradition.

"I am sorry about how he treated your shawl," Ranty said a bit demurely.

The Tejan grimaced. "To be fair, I feel like I am ruining it by just holding it."

One's hands never stayed clean here. There was a way to wash things, but it felt like a futile endeavor when the floors rarely, if ever, were cleaned.

The Francois definitely had a different culture. America had a secular, pluralist tradition built around holding a bunch of different cultures and religions who hated each other together. The Republic took the monocultural route that many other nations had. Secularism didn't bother Calamity too much unless they decided to pull out the ye ol Enlightenment-era catalog of oh-so 'rational', 'bias-free', and 'science-based' justifications for why X group of people were a threat to civilization or the 'white race' or whatever made-up bullpucky the planter aristocracy was peddling to keep the slavery and colonialism going. Anyone who believed that anti-irrational ideology alone would spare them from very human and emotional decision-making was delusional. Such an anti-introspective mindset would likely lead to one giving their irrational behavior a veneer of reason. The more rational one professed to be, the more they can dupe themselves into doing very dumb and very horrible things.

Tanya came to mind for some reason. Speaking of whom, Calamity's association with Tanya von Degurechaff came up a lot at the trial. Calamity was not going to let the prosecutors sully Tanya as some mass murdering Devil of the Rhine of Francois and Aztecs or as the epitome of Silver Legion ideology. The Tejan went to bat to defend Tanya to the jury and prosecutors.

After grilling her on her knowledge of the Aztec genocide, the prosecutor moved to something closer to home for the Francois Republic.

"What are your thoughts on the Arene massacre?"

"It was a tragedy. Everyone in America saw it on every news broadcast over and over while we were getting ready for war. We knew Germania needed to be stopped back then."

"Is that so?" the prosecutor pressed smugly. "Then why did you join MI15 under Tanya von Degurechaff?"

"To escape the Silver Legion. I have said this."

"To work for White Silver?"

"Yes, but I didn't know Tanya von Weiss was White Silver when I transferred," Calamity replied in exhausted, somewhat sickly exasperation.

"But you did see the portrait of White Silver?"

"Yes, but that was a portrait," she stated, desperately trying to offer valuable context. "I didn't want to press the issue."

"Did you know that Tanya von Degurechaff not only oversaw, ordered, and orchestrated the Arene Massacre but wrote the justification for it?"

The Tejan had to think about that. Did she know that? Mary Sue claimed a lot of things about the Devil of the Rhine, but the Mandate of Endings claimed a lot of stuff about her hated foe.

"I didn't believe she did it." Then, she went through her memories, and then something from when the sniper had fused with Tanya snagged. "It was more complicated than that."

"You said that you fled to Zhangzi when Germania refused your asylum request to go back to the Silver Legion, correct?"

She wanted to go back to the previous subject but answered the question before she got in trouble.

"That is so," she said.

"And yet you suddenly show up for duty again in America two years later. Why was that?"

"It was not sudden. There was a plan."

"A plan to save White Silver?" the Francois man pressed. He had a look like he smelled blood.

"Yes, that was part of it."

Her lawyer looked at her like she was insane, but she needed to explain this.

"Did you see the murders of Empress Roxanne and Emperor Cassander of Western Persia during your rescue that happened the same day you killed that non-mage?"

"Yes, I did. Ramona and Sonnetto had complicated reasons for what they did."

"You know this Ramona person?"

"Yes, I took her in as a teenager when she had no one else, and we fought together during the Great War. She is like family."

"You also know that she is wanted in the Francois Republic and Commonwealth for being an anarchist extremist with a history of using explosives?"

"I know she has done…things." Calamity Amb deflated. She suspected Ramona had used explosives to try to kill Arthur Pelley, a man who would lead the Silver Legion into power and the Unified States into a fascist dictatorship. Did she do more than that?

The mention of explosives caused a visible chill among the Parisians in the courtroom.

"Did Ramona Mercer kill Empress Roxanne?" The prosecutor seemed to loom over her at this point despite not moving too close.

How was she supposed to answer this truthfully? Empress Roxanne was already dead, but explaining that would reveal the truth behind Sonnetto's identity and compromise her sister Sonata's future.

"Please answer the question," the judge instructed her when she stalled.

"Yes, but she was trying to kill Agent Weiss."

"Even if that was the case, Mrs. Canary, you stopped her. Mercer listened to your order to stop shooting, according to your report. Why did you stop the sniper from killing Degurechaff if not because you are all allies?"

It was confusing having to deal with the prosecutor insisting on using Tanya's old name even if it was her legal one due to all this crazy stuff that happened in Germania around Mary Sue, the tax office, and her technically unlawful adoption.

"Because Tanya didn't deserve to die!" the Tejan answered, raising her voice noticeably and getting reproachful glances. "She is innocent. I swear. My report also laid out how she was brainwashed."

"You will find that we find a lot of Interpol's reporting highly suspect after the revelations of cover ups to protect Degurechaff's identity. Canary, did you know your sister Mary killed Alexander Magnus when she was working for one of the world's most notorious Silver Legionists, Richard Diamond, as his hired killer?"

"Yes, I did, but she was doing that to protect our familyl."

"You have told us time and time again that you chose your family, and you also acknowledge that your family has been part of mass killings of civilians and the assassinations of world leaders. As I see it, these three people have one thing that links them together, and that is you, Mrs. Canary. The question is not why you defend such people but why you are chose to call them family?"

"Because we are family and we love each other!" She replied weakly despite her desire to raise her voice. "A lot happened that you don't know about and that I don't know about. Degurechaff and the rest of my family are not bad people, I swear."

"I have no more questions for the witness at this point, Your Honor."

Soon after that, recess was called.

Her lawyer got mad at her for not denouncing Tanya. She wasn't trying to say that killing Aztecs was right but that there was more going on than that, like Tanya was under mind control and traumatized, which was hard for her to prove or provide a non-Interpol or communist reference.

Calamity decided to rest her head on the table. It was probably gross to others for her to do that, but she was just so exhausted all the time.

Her lawyer went through his files with her. He didn't want to cross-examine her relationship with Tanya. Basically, the more Calamity Amb defended 'the indefensible', even to provide more context, the worse she looked to the jury. It was better, according to the lawyer, to focus on topics that put the centennial innate mage in a good light. The issue wasn't so much that she had killed a non-mage but what her motivations were. Interpol officers killed people on occasion, and there was understandable suspicion of MIs like Calamity abusing their power. MIs didn't want murder happening in their ranks. Accountability to the people was key to justifying their existence and work.

As her mind began to wander, Calamity stared at the opulent courthouse architecture. Buildings like this were always so fancy, in her opinion. Often the pride of the town back home.

"What are your thoughts on the whole colonialism thing?" Calamity muttered to her lawyer. Lately, it has been a subject on her mind because it is constantly impacting her work. Now, the League of Nations has been cracking down on the practice.

To his benefit, the man entertained the subject with her. He probably understood that she needed a break from the case.

"Well, the way I see it, my country came upon our empire in a fit of absent-mindedness," he claimed with an air of comfortable certainty that came with sitting in well-cushioned chairs most of one's life. "We, as one of the most advanced civilizations in the world, reluctantly found the responsibility of tending an empire thrust upon us. We are doing our best to uplift these people out of their backwardness."

Calamity didn't have the strength to debate with the public defender the Francois had given her. It did strike her as insane to believe that a country stumbled into having an empire. There had to be a lot of intentionality behind that. As an American, her national ethos was deeply anti-colonial, even if its foreign policy had often failed those values. Everything the Albish Empire had done before and during the American Revolution was very much intended to keep them in their place. Calamity guessed the loci of Francois culture did not understand what it was like being under a colonial government.

Still, something about the whole conversation amused her. Trust a public defender to defend the indefensible, the Tejan thought.

After the recess ended, the prosecutors brought out several blown-up pictures of her holding her sniper rifle, and it was pretty cool how big and powerful she seemed in those pictures. They had her talk about how she owned lots of weapons and struggled with war mage issues, which was one reason why she joined Interpol. The war didn't leave everyone, and Calamity had been in several. A lot of non-mage vets joined law enforcement. Mages just had to deal with an extra layer of struggle due to the way magic interacts with the mind. If the prosecutors wanted to paint her as a proud gun aficionado, she was guilty as charged. Few could match her in knowledge of firearms and how to wield them as safely as she could.

It was a bit difficult to know what to do during the trial. The judge had not allowed her to have legal material given to her in prison, and her lawyer had to read her case documents aloud to her at the courthouse. It was a bit weird, but maybe it was just another cultural thing.

As for communicating across the language boundary, some of the juries could understand her accented Albish. Occasionally, the judge would ask her to repeat something because her manner of speaking confused the translator. Still, otherwise, things were going smoothly — not that she could tell how her words were being translated. The prosecutors liked emphasizing her Tejan background and getting her to talk about her home state and the Wild West days. What was wrong with being Tejan or a country gal? Why did the jury look at her funny when she discussed her culture like fried butter at county fairs?

She wasn't dumb or less sophisticated just because she wrangled pigs instead of debating philosophy at some cafe. The cowpokes of the olden days had plenty of thoughts. It was in the doing of things that philosophy was born, after all. In fact, a philosophy that ties your hands behind your back was but hot air and noise. Words get their meaning in action, just as an understanding of liberty and equality was born in resisting oppression. When words got severed from action, concepts like liberty and equality lost their meaning, and one can be convinced that oppressing others was freedom.

The prosecutor brought up her years at Fort Snelling with Colonel Duster. That was rough. It felt really odd having to talk about stuff from eighty years ago. She had changed a lot as a person since then and would accept any punishment deemed necessary for those crimes (which she neither hid nor shied away from), but the Francois prosecutors were not prosecuting her for that genocide. Why couldn't they focus more on her protecting a family from Silver Shirts out to kill them? Her lawyer had to do most of the work bringing that up, but the prosecutors kept going at all these other things.

On the way back to the prison, Calamity saw protestors at her trial near the courthouse. There was a sign in both Francois and Albish that made it clear to the protestors they thought something was unfair about her trial. As for the unfair things, Calamity didn't really know much of what was going on. The trial was so painful in Francois that it bordered, and focusing proved incredibly difficult. She couldn't get anyone from her Interpol team to stand witness to anything since they were all banned from the country due to what they were suspected of having done in Germania.

A healthy culture of protest and radicalism thrived in the Republic. It would be nigh impossible for the APCO to snuff out something that sang throughout the national ethos.

After her armed mage escort deposited her inside La Santé prison, an inmate offered her some cocaine as a friendly gesture. Calamity's health had continued to deteriorate due to the shackles and the poor sanitary conditions of the prison, and some of the kinder inmates had taken notice and, out of kindness and solidarity, tried to help her.

Calamity didn't know what to do with the drug. The racist 'I like seeing Arabs behind bars' guard had been peddling it. His wanton use of beatings and embarrassments of the inmates definitely boosted the sales of such means to temporary escape, Calamity assumed. Sometimes, she saw people boiling things in water to make strange concoctions if they couldn't afford the actual drugs. From the looks of it, a third of all inmates had to become addicted to one thing or another in the overstuffed prison.

Calamity kept her mind away from it. She didn't want to get another addiction on top of her withdrawal symptoms from not getting enough flight hours in. Magic wants to be used, and war mages could never completely escape their need to use it. After mages got convicted, they would typically be sent to the Leech Den, where one received the shackles that drained one's mana steadily into crystals, which would be sold to arms manufacturers for developing new uses for the mana in tanks and other weapons. That drain was vital because it kept the mage mentally healthy. The magic sealing shackles used in La Santé prison did not do that and were really unhealthy for innate mages. It was a cookie-cutter solution that somewhat worked for European mages. Still, it was deadly for followers of the mana body traditions of Asia or people with extremely rare conditions like Calamity's.

When she got returned to her cell, the Interpol officer saw that she wasn't the only one who got some drugs out of kindness.

"Ranty, what did you do?" Calamity asked with her weak voice heavy in worry.

Her emaciated cellmate had gotten on her tiptoes in order to stare out the window at Parii.

"Look at the house slaves." Ranty was high as a kite, demonstrating how she got her nickname.

"There is no slavery in the Republic, Ranty. Come down, please."

But the half-starved woman with her short-cropped black hair, which she regularly cut, just kept going on. "They don't even know they are slaves. Oh, how the house slaves, with their good diction, fancier food, and nicer clothes, love their master more than they love themselves. When the masters are sick, they go take care of those aristocrats with subsidies. They will even agree to sacrifice their privileges as house slaves with some austerity. When their masters' houses catch fire, they will do everything to protect them, even going to war. Anything for their masters."

Calamity didn't have the strength to fight Ranty, so she simply leaned against the other woman, sharing some warmth. The people outside the prison went about their day to their jobs and took care of their families. No one forced them to make chairs or cultivate cabbage. An economy of sex, addictive drugs, and violence did not dominate their lives as it did inside the prison.

The Parisians could fill all their free time with movies and saucy romance novels. They had therapy and proper anti-depressants to help them through tough times. The only violence they had to worry about was curtailing riots and paying taxes to support the Republic's foreign policy.

Calamity saw a young man even pee on a corner of a building, much to the chagrin of a police officer and the other Parisians. As a critic once said of Gerschwin's Parii in Blue, it was all very 'pedestrian', which was meant as an insult, but to Calamity, captured the music of human life. From inside the prison cell, the Tejan could not help but be incredibly envious. Unlike Ranty, who worried about where her next meal would come from out there, Calamity had security in her life activities. She would watch movies, get much-needed therapy, and return to her Interpol job.

"You need to return to wake up, poor child," Ranty whispered as she buried her face into Calamity's long, limp hair.

"But I want to sleep, Ranty," the Tejan muttered in a daze. "I want to see a movie. There was one where I helped on."

"You're already in a movie. The movie will keep going as long as the producers see profit in it. When the producers find the film too expensive to keep going, they will order their crews to pack up the scenery and props. The fancy costumes and the gourmet Hors d'oeuvre table will go away. With the scenery gone, the actors will finally notice the curtain. They will lift it and find a prison wall. The question is not if they will escape, but if they even can by that point."

Calamity was sure that Ranty was paraphrasing something Frank Sappa said. "That's nice," the tall Tejan whispered before falling asleep.

In her dream, Calamity Amb was an actor and a movie star. Everyone loved her. In her big role, she was to play Major Canary, the Tejan Ranger, who fought cartels, chewed bubblegum, and saved dudesels in distress.

In her first big movie in her dream, aliens from outer space land in the Francois Republic. They had gigantic spaceships. The rest of MI15 had joined the cast, and they fought with the people of the Republic against the aliens who had laser weapons, but all seemed futile. Even General Tanya did not know what could be done to win. The futuristic weapons were just too powerful, and several of their fellow humans made deals with extraterrestrials in exchange for putting down the resistance.

The dream shifted as the alien invasion stopped being a movie but became a real invasion in the dream world.

That was when the dream became much more complicated due to these human collaborators working with the genocidal alien colonizers. The collaborators ruled over all the other Francois citizens on behalf of their alien overlords. The collaborators were humans, so they could hide among the resistance movement, where they would sow discord and supply information to the aliens. General Tanya had to crack down on dissent in the resistance just to keep the collaborators from succeeding in their malicious activities.

Most of the collaborators, however, were not sneaking inside the resistance. Instead, they wore alien clothes and acted more like middlemen, governing their fellow Francois people, who were indentured on a massive scale to work picking alien crops and sweatshops. Schools existed for some of the Francois, but only alien languages, customs, and clothes were allowed in a policy of uplifting them into a spacefaring people. Yet, spacefaring never seemed to come. The education seemed awful, like obedience and work education. In fact, alien schools forbade their students from learning the concepts of liberty, equality, fraternity, or anything involving revolution. Francois' history wasn't even taught at all, and those who tried to keep it alive were considered subversive and uncivilized by the alien government. Jokes were often made, suggesting that the Francois didn't have

The dream morphed more wildly at that point, losing all semblance of logic as Calamity tossed and turned. Her body ached. Her heart felt weak, and her stomach roared for food. Tanya's memories of being a starving orphan overlapped with her own in some parts.

At one point, the fever dream became about her ordering soup, but the chef decided to throw her into the soup instead. There, she kept swimming in the cooking pot, trying to get out. Other people inside the pot told her to stop making waves. 'Trying to save herself was futile, and that happiness came from relaxing in the water.'

Still, the Tejan tried to escape. Calamity Amb didn't want to be soup. Climbing out of it alone didn't work. After some salt and vegetables were dumped on the people in the pot, some started helping her. Still, the naysayers kept telling Calamity's group to stop because if they tried too much, the pot might topple over, taking the people who were happy being in the pot with it. The naysayers picked off more of Calamity's group of anti-soupers.

Then, the water started to get hotter. The naysayers kept denying that things were getting worse, saying it was all the anti-soupers' imagination and lies. Yet, the movement built up. Fewer and fewer people were enjoying being in the pot. That was when the chef came back to push Calamity back into the soup. They were so close to toppling the pot, too, and getting out alive.

The dream fell into a raw emotion of hopelessness. Calamity could barely see in this emotional void the former anti-soupers giving up. Each surrender to soupdom further crushed the hearts of her movement until it was all just a large, inescapable silver pot.

Calamity's eyes snapped open as the sun hit her face. She was awake again but in a hospital. Her shackles had been removed, but by the looks of it, very recently.

The doctors and nurses around her had astonished looks on their factions as they chatted in their language, which she still didn't understand.

"What day is it?" The tall Interpol officer wondered. She was supposed to have her next trial tomorrow…from the day she fell asleep.

One of the nurses came up to the Interpol officer and addressed Calamity in Albish.

"It is Thursday, Miss," he answered, making the x as a sign of devotion.

"Well, don't that just add insult to injury? While I reckon that means I got a longer remand in prison until they reschedule my hearing then, huh?"

The nurse grabbed Calamity's hand as a comforting gesture.

"Miss, by some miracle, you survived. We couldn't get calories in you fast enough to get your mama levels up. The Goddess must surely love you and grant you a miracle."

Calamity noted the glowing silver sigil on her hand. Everyone took notice of it.

"Well, she definitely loves me, even if she would never admit it, that proud ol' gal; however, my friend doesn't take kindly to being called goddess."

It was the honest truth, but the nurse seemed offended by it. Well, it is what it is. Calamity has been putting her foot in her mouth this whole damn time in the Republic, making enemies of everyone despite not meaning harm with her words. Like Sonnetto, she liked to tell it as it was and give some old-fashioned wisdom to boot.

Then, her chosen sisters, using the Solidarity link, messaged her mind.

"This is Sonnetto. Calamity, thank goodness. I thought the Francois killed you at first before news came of your trial and delay over your health condition. Over."

"This is Tanya. We are glad you are doing well. When we noticed your connection to us was restored, we expedited some mana to you. Over."

"This is Sonata. What they mean is that we are glad you are alive and well. Do you know when your trial will be over? Over."

"Calamity here. I was supposed to get my verdict about two days ago. Still in legal purgatory as they decide if I should be punished or not yet. Over."

"Tanya here. We have an urgent situation in Germania right now where there could be a civil war that leads to a world war. We need your help. Over."

Tanya provided the rundown of the situation. First, a majority Southern Germanian faction had rallied against the majority Northern Germanian faction's attempts to create a post-plutocratic government. The revelations of the conservative President Ropen's collusion with Rudolph Himmler to stomp out trade unions and socialists from the country had an incendiary effect on those who already believed something was seriously wrong with the country.

The Imperial countries spun this turn of events as 'Federation Imperialism and meddling'. The Francois, Albish, and Americans had sent weapons, funding, and advisors to the Southern Germania 'capitalist' faction, attempting to 'de-escalate' the situation by putting out the fires of revolution. Their intervention forced the Russy Federation and its allies to support the multi-tendency Northern 'socialist' faction. The imperialists spun the speed at which the Russys deployed as a sign that they had been fulminating revolution and had planned all of this. Apparently, the Russys were mostly worried about Himmler because the man advocated replicating America's Destiny Manifest upon Eastern Europa and throughout Federation territory as part of what he called 'Lebensraum'.

Of course, the Federation communists, who hate fascists already, were on edge. Germania was a superpower for a reason, and it could go toe-to-toe with most of the world. The idea of Germania being under the control of Himmler was an existential crisis for them. That was why the Federatopm had put Ramona Mercer, Borislava Kransi, and many other mages in Germania as a backup plan. Unfortunately, Tanya may have done too good of a job uncovering Himmler's plans and explaining them to the public due to her future knowledge, causing countless Germanians to lose confidence in their government and creating this civil war fiasco.

The Western European leaders were confident they could cow the Russy Federation because the Francois Republic and the Commonwealth both had superweapons. The Russy Federation had to rush to catch up with the Republic's arcanium bombs. Creating city-destroying weapons was not something sane people did. Destroying cities alone was a war crime because civilians lived there.

The Francois got pissed about Arene?

"Calamity here. What do you need me to do, Captain von Weiss? Over"

"Tanya here. We need you to assist us in depriving the Commonwealth of your sister in order to bring them to the bargaining table and avert war. Over."

"Calamity here. It is about damn time. Over."