The Deed of Tanya the Evil (Youjo Senki/The Deed of Paksenarrion)

[Luftritter]

Chapter 1: A Dawn of Rebirth


My return to awareness is announced by utter misery.

The sensations are very familiar; they are the leftovers of some violence done to my body.

I think I can detect at least a couple of bruised ribs, a dislocated arm (maybe broken), and a bump on the back of my head, which must be the cause of my splitting headache.

Am I concussed?

I have the suspicion that, at the very least, I'm recovering from one.

Yes, there's the faint sensation of nausea, and I bet I would be quite unsteady if I had enough strength left to rise from wherever I was lying down to rest.

The feeling that I'm not wearing my uniform anymore is also quite clear. Instead, I'm covered in just some kind of coarse woolen nightshirt with a V-neck opening, the whole garment falling just a bit above mid-thigh.

I shudder the moment I wonder how I got changed.

The bed I occupy is made from crude planks, and the bedding (also made of wool) is just some simple coverings. There's no mattress; however, an attempt was made to soften the bed with straw.

My skin crawls when I realize I can feel random flea bites as if I were a common soldier sleeping in a trench dugout.

With some effort, I open my crusty eyes and discreetly start looking at my surroundings to start evaluating my situation.

The room is somber, but the orange reflection of flames from a fireplace at one end of the room provides some dim light.

I perceive the scent of animals, probably cattle, and unwashed bodies.

Through the gloom, I distinctly perceive the forms of others sleeping under more woolen covers in other plank beds nearby, of the same making as my own.

It might be the middle of the night, and the fire is scarcely enough to fend off the night chill.

This room is somewhat bare, but I can see that it is a large chamber of rough stone walls, a low roof made of timber boards supported by wooden beams, and an earthen floor below.

Thanks to the fire glare, I can also perceive some knick-knacks of daily life: a hefty, somewhat smoking iron cauldron on the fire, pieces of rough, simple furniture, half a dozen wood stools, and a long table made of planks. A large ham is conspicuously hanging from one of the wooden supports in the ceiling, and right by the side is a cord net crammed with cheeses. Just on the opposite side of the room, I can make the round form of an old-style spinning wheel!

What is this place? Is this some Russy POW camp?

Some time must have passed since I lost consciousness, given the fact that my mouth feels dry, so it's possible that I was captured and then interned in some hellish forced labor camp.

I fight the fog that blurs my memories and, through an act of pure will, focus all my mental energy in an attempt to retrieve my last recollections before fainting.



------------------------Break---------------------------


I clearly remember the orders for the deployment of the 203rd to the East in support of the defense of our Vaterland from Communist assault.

This happened just after my little African adventure.

I have some tenuous recollections that start with the train ride from Berun to Posen and, afterward, crossing into Imperial Osten towards Warszawa. Then the tedious transfer of men and baggage to a different gauge (and less comfortable) armored train at the border of Podlachia with White Ruthenia. Trekking through immense distances, crossing a bridge over the Niemen, and sleeping for one night in Germanian-occupied Minsk. Moving quickly to the advancing frontlines, which, last I heard, had reached the outskirts of Smolensk.

Our convoy was less than two days' travel from the front, waiting in a passing siding.

A train hauling wounded to the rearguard had just left us behind, and we were about to continue our journey when a dispatch rider in a beaten-up Zündapp motorcycle reached our train, requesting immediately a ranking officer.

I received a message that turned out to be an order from HQ for the entire convoy to set camp in the Rail Station of a village nearby.

The explanation for this delay was a Partisan attack that had just blown up an entire section of the line. While frenetic action was being taken to reopen the railway, High Command estimated that it would take at least another 36 to 48 hours.

We reached the tiny village station just a couple of miles ahead, and I had just gotten off the train when we were welcomed by the local Germanian garrison Commanding officer and his aides.

He quickly pointed out that the town was just too small to accommodate all my men in one place, but that between the Station and the local House of Culture, we could have enough room to accommodate everyone without having too many soldiers pitch tents.

I ordered Weiss to attend to the unloading while Koenig organized Aerial Mage cover around the clock to fend off the Partisan threat.

I would take to the skies myself with a squad after the situation was more organized.

My officers were billeted in a local hotel, quite Spartan but mercifully clean.

That evening, my staff and I were invited by the local Commander for dinner at his headquarters.

The food was quite good, as it was mentioned that it included quite a bit of local produce and even some Allied supplies abandoned by the Red Army as it fled.

After a full meal with no K-Brot in sight and my first real cup of coffee in months, I retreated to my provisional quarters, uncharacteristically sleepy. Still, I didn't think much of it since I was in a good mood due to the town Commander, a jovial man, who secured some quality coffee beans for my stash.

I reached my bed and fell into unconsciousness after just touching the mattress.

I slept for an undetermined amount of time, when suddenly, I was abruptly woken up by a brutal slap.

I can taste blood in my mouth.

Still dazed, I start fighting the aftereffects of what I now realize is some type of narcotic.

Keeping my eyes open is a struggle, but I immediately ascertain that I've been captured.

I'm being forced to stand by two men holding my arms, which are tightly secured to my back by heavy anti-mage manacles at my wrists.

I'm in the lobby of the hotel, surrounded by enemies.

Only hostile faces of Partisan militias outfitted almost entirely in rags mixed with regular Red Army soldiers, every single one of them heavily armed, gaze me with hate.

The state of their uniforms tells me that they have seen a lot of heavy combat quite recently.

I can hear at a distance the wailing sound of Katyusha rockets being answered from farther away by the roar of heavy artillery, which I suspect is coming from my armored train. Good, at least some of my men seem to have escaped and kept on fighting.

Suddenly, I'm surprised to see in a corner the Germanian local Commander. However, he doesn't seem to be restrained in any way. He's just chatting and smoking genially with some Red Army regulars in accented Russy.

Looks like High Command's fear of Communist infiltration, was completely justified.

"Ah, It's treason then!" I said to him, The Germanian turned, but said nothing. I'm unable to say anything else after one of my captors firmly secures a cloth gag in my mouth.

Almost immediately, the crowd parted to let in a Political Commissar.

The man takes a crumpled piece of paper out of his coat pocket and starts reading in heavily accented Germanian.

I'm informed that I have been tried in absentia by the People's Court and that on the fifth day of this month, I was found guilty of the Crime of Aggression and a laundry list of other War Crimes against the people and Army of the Russy Federation.

The sentence is death, to be carried out at once.

The Political Officer tells me that for the sake of expediency and in deference to my military record, I would not be hanged until I die but shot on this spot instead.

I glare at the man when he says this, but at the same time, I straighten to my full height at attention.

I'm not frogmarched out. My captors allowed me to walk by myself to the back of the hotel, followed by a detachment of soldiers led by the Political Officer. They will serve as the firing squad.

It is just dawn. I'm placed against the wall, and I stand alone but defiant.

The men line up in front of me and check their weapons.



The officer finally gives the order.



The last thing I see is smoke and a blaze coming from the muzzles of the weapons, very bright against the weak glow of the morning twilight.

Instantly, everything turned into the most profound black, and I ceased hearing and feeling.

------------------------Break---------------------------

I gasped, horrified at this last memory.


Did I just die?


Fear, despair, rage.


For one eternal moment, I sit on the edge of a precipice.

All my hopes, dreams, and plans went off in smoke.

It tastes like ashes.

But I persevere.

It's almost physically painful to get control over my emotions but I know that I must.

I am, after all, a being of Reason. A creature of Enlightenment.

It just would not do, to give into despair.

I also would never betray myself, to give Being X the satisfaction of finally having broken me.

Pure spite gives me the strength to go on.

I'm in control again.

Now I can think.

Rationality tells me that there's no denying that I am still quite alive, and while wounded, the damage to my body does not match what surviving a fire squad execution would entail.


This necessarily suggests that between the time of my apparent death and now, something really important must have happened.


Just what on Earth is going on?

I'm certain that I must know what happened at all costs.


I begin by centering myself, using some meditation exercises that I learned in my first life.


I feel all my memories.


In one heap placed neatly in order, are the recollections that I accumulated during my first life as a productive member of society in the technologically advanced Japan of the early 21st century.

In another stack, l can feel my experiences as a child soldier during a brutal War in the world of Science and Magic where the Empire was, at the turn of the 20th century.


Everything that was Tanya's life.


But something's not quite like it was.

I detected something new that wasn't there the last time I looked at this place in my mind.

This seems to confirm my suspicions.

With some trepidation, I reach and remember.


------------------------Break---------------------------


This new set of memories feels close, fresh, and vibrant.

A lot less stagnant than the ones from my first life, or how those that belong to my life as Tanya, feel now.

I'm reborn.

My new name is Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter of Three Firs, a humble Shepherdess.

I have reincarnated as a teenage female again, a poor peasant girl dwelling on an isolated farm in the middle of nowhere, close to the border between two Kingdoms.

My new life will unfold in a primitive land of religious superstition reminiscent of Europe's Dark Ages.

I'm the third of a total of six siblings. Being part of such a large family is a novel experience and I can't help but compare it with my other childhoods as a beloved only son in my first life or the other one as a neglected child, a charity case, raised by the State.

My current father's name is Dorthan Kanasson, a sheep farmer. He is the owner of a parcel of land that, as the elder son, he inherited from his father Kanas Jorisson.

I know and see in my mind's eye, the faces of all my family: my siblings, Grandpa, Father, Mom, Uncle Sedlin, cousin Jornoth…

Fifteen years of memories are right there for me to peruse.

But I know it is not needed since I am Her and Pasenarrion is I.

It's just too much: either I hallucinate in such a vivid and convincing way that I might just as well give up and go on with it or this is my new reality.

"Since when do I have easy choices?" I mutter and snort contemptuously.

I wince immediately at the pain caused by the sudden movement.

I had almost forgotten that I was grievously hurt.

Incidentally, I can now remember exactly what happened.

After Father and Uncle finished harvesting the barley, I took the sheep as usual to the fields to have the hungry things graze on straws.

By the way, this has the benefit of leaving sheep manure to fertilize the soil for the next plant. Anyway, I digress…

Since I was so close to the house and as was my custom every September, I offered to harvest the winter apples from the "orchard" if you can call that only three slightly malnourished-looking trees.

As the almost feral child that I am, I decided to forgo the use of a ladder since I (or rather Paksenarrion) enjoy the physical effort of climbing.

The only thing wrong with my calculation (if there was any) was that I failed to take into consideration that since the last time I performed this task, I had changed from munchkin to giant-sized.

That meant that when I climbed to the highest branches to pick up fruit, one of my favorite footsteps couldn't resist the change in mass and broke clean.

While falling I hit my head against another branch or the tree trunk and fell like a sack of potatoes from a height of two stories right into some rocks that lie below the tree.



I was very lucky to not have broken my stupid neck instantly.



I stop myself in time from sighing.



Even after this night's Earth-shattering revelations, prudence tells me that there's nothing as urgent and life-threatening at this moment but these wounds.

The truth is, given the technological level of Medieval Medicine (not that its quality matters much, since we're too poor and too far away to get any help on time), I could end up lame, maimed, or die painfully if I'm just unlucky or not strong enough. And that is not even taking into consideration that even after making a complete recovery, I'll be unable to do my work for six to twelve weeks, just during the critical time of winter preparations.

And while that might not be "everyone starves by February" serious, still there will be consequences.

Right now I would need Magic to heal faster.

And that puts into play my recovered memories.

The blow to my head might have had something to do with their retrieval.

It probably undid or got loose, whatever it is in the brain that locks the memories of past lives when humans reincarnate after death.

This implies that Samsara, transmigration of the soul, or metempsychosis. Whatever you want to call it. For this mysterious process, I now have three points of evidence and that makes me believe it is the fate of all human beings.


No matter what Being X says.


But I can't let myself get distracted.


These new memories, besides granting me the ability to consider fascinating academic questions at all, offer me something else even more valuable and of immediate use. Possibly.

While for Paksenarrion the use of Magic is hearsay gained from too many wives' tales around the fire during Winter Festival, for someone such as I, Magic is a cold Scientific Fact.

Of course, my previous experiences don't imply anything about this specific world but I can but hope.

With renewed energy, I go over the mental workouts that the Imperial recruiter officer taught me at the Nuns Orphanage a lifetime ago.

I ignore my doubts, the fact that I don't have a Computation Orb to focus my mana and impose my Will to Reality.

The first step is to determine if I have any mana at all.

I don't know how long it takes but suddenly, my mana answers eagerly, it's like finding a long-lost friend!

I can feel some of the pressure leaving me.

Without thinking twice I cycle my mana and focus on the Analgesic Formula.

I know it by heart since I have used it thousands of times.

Surprisingly I feel my mana respond!

The Formula holds and I feel relief extending through my body.


Now, I sigh in satisfaction.


But I'm not done yet. In my mind, I switch Formulas and cast a Medical Formula.

I feel no difference since I'm still under the effect of the analgesic but it is better than nothing.

Only time will tell if it's helping my recovery and besides nothing but mana consumption stops me from casting it every day.

I can see light starting to filter from below the door.

It's already dawn which means I've been awake all night.

Suddenly I felt very tired.

I pull the covers and try to make myself comfortable.


Before falling asleep, I suddenly realized that I had not seen any sign of Being X for the last fifteen years.

With this cheery thought, I let unconsciousness claim me.

------------------------Break---------------------------

Authors Note:

Greetings, and welcome to my first incursion in writing.

Like many of you, I have been a reader for many years, across multiple sites and platforms, some of which no longer exist.

I must confess that reading is my drug of choice and I started with it as an escapist hobby, since at times I find reality simply intolerable.

Reading appeals to me due to its total immersion, abundance, cheapness, and portability: I find nothing more satisfying in an uncomfortable social situation than pulling up my phone or tablet and starting to read. It repels unwanted conversations like chain smoking without the regrettable secondary effect of lung cancer.

I have enjoyed hundreds, thousands of works of any imaginable fandom, and what I can say of the experience is that it has been goddamned fun!

Nevertheless, I feel now that I have reached a point in my life where I would very much want to move beyond being a passive consumer of stories.

Not only would I like to return something to the community that I feel has given me much, but I also want to get the chance to maybe become a wordsmith like those I admire, despite my non-existent talent.

Maybe. Hopefully.

Also for my enjoyment, there's a lot of that.

Anyway, as a first story, I am well aware that it will very likely suck, so constructive criticism is welcome.

Let's just keep it polite and remember that if this turns out to be too intolerable feel free to drop it and enjoy the hundreds of thousands of other stories that might appeal to you.

After all, as many talented authors have pointed out repeatedly, it is impossible to please everyone all the time. Neither should you ever try, that road leads to madness.

I am writing this tale because I feel that the characters speak to me and I can share an interpretation that is unlikely to turn out well since I'm new at this end of the creative business: this is the first writing I've done since I was a larva in high school.

So, I keep my expectations low (and so must you). Here I'm trying to make a readable text, with grammar and spelling that is not too awful while I get used to this brand new artistic activity (for me!).

That's it.

I use spell check (several!) and read the text multiple times however I'm certain I won't catch all mistakes.

Feel free to point them out mercilessly.

Also if you happen to know ways to make my text format prettier and the thread more readable please explain that to me since I don't know what I'm doing: I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Please help!

That's all I have to say for now, but before leaving, I want to tip my hat to all Authors that have kept on going for years: dear Sirs and Ladies I Salute You.
This is really hard work.

QQ Author Note:

Hi! I'm cross-posting this story from SpaceBattles.
The reason for this is due to the nature of the second source material for the crossover: "The Deed of Paksenarrion", trilogy of books by Elizabeth Moon.
For anyone that is unaware about the novelsc(which would not be strange since those are 1980s books, tough rather good), while the setting at first glance looks like standard issue Fantasy, it is a bit more grounded and depicts copius amounts of sex, violence (of the rape, pillage burn variety), mentions of mutilation, savage corporal punishments, etc.
The final chapters are not for the faint of heart. Not strange since the story deals with warfare happening on a Middle Ages level world.
Of course, in the books, everything is mentioned tastefully without going into too much into detail.
That being said, since this is a writing exercise on my part, I'm still not sure how I'll handle parts like those or if I'll decide to write more explicit additional content as practice.
So, just to be safe I'm opening a thread here, and if I decide to write NSFW content it will be added here for sure!