A Young Woman's Political Record 42 (Patreon)

AN: Update on SB is pending thread unlock... this might be a sign I should be going patreon first anyways.

ooOoo

March 23, 1941

We ran into the first scout shortly after entering the Francois Republic. As expected, our enemy was keeping an eye on the border area, either to be ready for their future offensives or to spot our own attack. The lone aerial mage took one look at our battalion and immediately flew off in the other direction. 

I raised my rifle to my shoulder, thumbing the selector switch at the same time. My old rifle hadn't been able to fire three round bursts. Charging up three explosive spells while maintaining steady flight took a few seconds. By the time I was ready to fire, the target was over a kilometer away. One of the dangers of allowing a dilettante on the battlefield.

Fortunately, he was flying away from me in a straight line. I made a minute adjustment in my aim and pulled the trigger. A moment later three explosions rang out and pieces of the scout were raining down on the countryside below.

I turned to face the man flying beside me, ready to do a bit of preening. Even if I had taken longer to get the shot off than I should have, it was still a nice piece of shooting. Neumann, for his part, just looked silently out towards the newly-empty airspace that my target had been occupying.

He'd been out of sorts ever since I told him his battalion would be coming on this mission and he'd have to leave his American girlfriend at home. I felt bad to be separating the happy couple, but letting her tag along would undermine my diplomatic strategy. The Empire had gotten in trouble because the reputation of its fearsome military had caused potential allies or neutrals to instead band together as its enemies out of fear. One way I planned to head off that sort of development was by giving the Americans a front row view of the Francois Republic's aggression and our own proportional defensive response.

Sending them a recording of our own counter-invasion was obviously off the table. Not to mention that the woman in question would probably feel a lot less comfortable tagging along with our invading forces than she did filming a defensive fight.

"Looks like the new rifle was worth the development costs," I said, looking to turn his thoughts in a more productive direction, such as praising me.

The LmG-40 was, as far as I knew, the first rifle in the world to be developed specifically for the use of aerial mages. It fired a heavier bullet at a faster speed than my old Mondragón. It was also more reliable, though not quite to the same absurd degree as the StG-38. Of course, the recoil was quite intense, but that was hardly a problem for any decent aerial mage. The extra range and stopping power were well worth it.

Also, the same rifle had been fitted with optical sights and issued to our infantry to be used by snipers. The cost savings and streamlined logistics, however, minor, were a balm to my soul.

"Chancellor," Neumann said, sounding a little nervous, "weren't we supposed to let the scouts live so they'd know you were coming?"

Whoops. My old instincts had taken over once an enemy mage was in sight, blinding me to the big picture.

Unfortunately, it was beneath the dignity of my office to dismiss the matter by hitting the side of my head and making a cute expression. Instead, I found myself scratching the back of my head and forcing a chuckle.

"Well," I said, "we can't make it too obvious that we're letting them get away."

Neumann just nodded. I wasn't entirely sure if he genuinely agreed or if he was just showing deference for my position.

At any rate, I was in luck, as we soon ran in to three more aerial mages. Quite possibly the platoon-mates of the mage I had shot, summoned by his distress call. They also didn't dally once they had gotten close enough for a good look. This time, I made sure that my explosive spells went off a good distance behind them. As they vanished into the distance, I nodded in satisfaction.

"There," I said, "now the Francois Republic will know that I'm here."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

I looked down for a moment at the army below. Four divisions of infantry advancing on foot, accompanied by horse drawn artillery and a bare handful of tanks. With one battalion of mages in the air and another two battalions marching with the soldiers down below, it wasn't exactly something that would strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. The only visually impressive units were the men wielding flamethrowers to reduce a farmer's field to ash. The rest of the army had reached the first small town on this side of the border and were busy rooting out the residents. Once the refugees were on the road heading westward, the whole town would be put to the torch.

General Ziegler was in overall command. According to our strategic design, we would be looking to find good defensive terrain somewhere between thirty and fifty kilometers deep into enemy territory. The bulk of the expeditionary force would be put to work digging in, while smaller, more mobile units would be setting fire to the surrounding countryside. Ideally, we'd be able to establish an airbase somewhere nearby. The airplanes would eventually contribute in the decisive battle, but in the mean time they could drop incendiaries in the picturesque forested regions that were all around us.

Neumann, of course, was a rational man. If he were in charge of the Francois Republic's grand strategy, he would ignore such basic provocations while shoring up his own defensive line. The calculated move to maximize the chance of their side winning the war was to drag things out as long as possible, forcing our side to invest resources on the western front that would ultimately allow the commies to roll in from the east.

The key to this little adventure was Visha's insight. The Francois Republic was not interested in maximizing their side's chance of victory. They were in an alliance of convenience with the Russy Federation, but their ultimate goal was to grab land for themselves. That is, the scenario where the Molotov-Ribéry won the war purely as a result of Russy conquest while they were crouched inside their own borders was effectively a loss for them. Thus, they would be happy to throw away the chance of that sort of "win" by taking a calculated risk that would allow them to seize spoils for themselves if it worked out.

Even more so considering the state of public opinion. I'd had Elya keeping a close watch on the sentiments of the Frankish citizens since the beginning of the year. Support there for war was broad, but not exactly deep. They had loved the Ildoan intervention, a quick use of military force that resulted in an easy victory. They loved the idea of war against Germania on the same terms. As soon as they were asked about fighting a grinding battle or gutting out another few years of occupation, though, the support evaporated. 

The government could engage in whatever censorship they liked, but the news of their early defeat and then my leading an army to rampage freely around the country would leak out eventually. There was a real danger that the public would turn on their leaders once that happened.

Also, as I'd learned in the last war, the Francois Republic didn't have calm and rational men in charge of their war effort. In the face of my presence personally leading an army that was lighting their country on fire, there was no way that those hotheads would be able to resist the urge to send their army out to destroy the interlopers.

"Don't worry," I said, "I didn't come all this way just to avoid doing paperwork."

The major obstacle I'd faced in kicking off this operation had been Visha's recalcitrance. I'd almost been forced to call the whole thing off before I remembered that she wasn't the only person in the room who could deploy puppy dog eyes in support of her argument. In the end, she'd agreed that she could take over and keep the government running for a week. She'd made me promise to be back before the week was up.

I'd figured that if the Francois Republic didn't come after us inside a week, they wouldn't come after us at all.

ooOoo

March 24, 1941

Pierre-Michel de Lugo hadn't had many good days since that hot-headed fool Muzzioli had plunged his nation into a war they were only half ready for. He'd had a few proud days, as his standing army leaped into action to launch an invasion in record time. He'd had anxious days, as he waited to hear how that army would handle its first test of true adversity. He'd had dark days, when it became clear that his army had failed its test.

This morning was a new low. The east wind brought the smell of smoke drifting through the streets of fair Parisee, driving home the reality of the reports that he had hoped were only the product of some sort of battlefield hallucination.

He started his day by meeting with the military's high command. As was so often the case, the leading voices were Defense Minister Marcel Pelletier and General René Fournier. The two men had been butting heads since the beginning of de Lugo's second presidency, sharpening each other's arguments as the two of them effectively set the agenda for the Francois Republic's military development. Some days they could be downright amicable. With the Devil of the Rhine herself leading the invasion of their country, though, tempers were running high.

"We must drive the Devil out of our country!" Fournier insisted.

General Fournier was the senior general on the army's general staff. He had a wiry build, and age had leached the color out of his hair, but he still had the energy of a man half his age. If de Lugo had not been elected president, he would have been in line for selection as the Vice Minister of Defense. After being passed over, he had never been shy about criticizing the man who was selected in his place. So long as his efforts ultimately strengthened  the Francois Republic, de Lugo didn't mind letting him have his say.

"Must we?" Pelletier asked.

Marcel Pelletier had been serving under de Lugo since before the Great War. Solidly built and placid in demeanor, he was one of de Lugo's most trusted subordinates and a capable military leader. If he lacked the spark of genius to propel him to true greatness, he also lacked the ego and hubris that so often came attached to a general's stars. Without a sober hand like Pelletier at the wheel, de Lugo would never have felt comfortable taking the risks inherent in the Francois Republic's aggressive military strategy.

"Of course!" Fournier insisted. "Her presence is an outrage!"

"It is an outrage," Pelletier agreed. "And if it were a week ago, and our army were whole, I wouldn't hesitate."

A momentary silence fell around the room as Pelletier touched so directly on their recent loss. What he had said was the simple truth. The Republic had lost a great deal of its ability to project force when its northern thrust had been so thoroughly cut off and destroyed.

"Surely," Fournier said, rallying himself, "we still have the strength to beat back four divisions."

"In two weeks, once we have fully mobilized? Easily," Pelletier replied. "Today? Assembling a force that can achieve a decisive victory over an army led by the Devil of the Rhine? It would leave us dangerously over-extended."

He paused, and de Lugo took the opportunity to gauge the mood of the room. Even the most ardent supporters of Fournier's push for aggressive actions were taken aback by the direct admission of weakness. 

"We must also consider what she hopes to accomplish by her actions," Pelletier continued.

There he touched on the source of de Lugo's own hesitation. All too often throughout the Great War, Degurechaff had pursued gambits that looked risky or insane only to deliver yet another great victory to the Empire. Some of that was due to her great skill as a mage, but only those blinded by hatred of the woman would ignore her tactical acumen.

"She knows her cause is doomed," Fournier said, "so she is lashing out while she can."

Looking around the table, Fournier seemed to have few takers for his theory. Good. It was good for a military commander to have confidence in himself and his troops, so long as it was tempered by a certain amount of healthy caution. It would be comforting to dismiss her actions as a mere temper tantrum, but dangerous. After all, the woman didn't rise to the position of Chancellor by mere happenstance.

"Or that is what she wants us to believe," Pelletier said, folding his hands in front of himself.

"To what end?" Fournier snapped. "There's no point talking ourselves around in circles."

"There's still much left unanswered," Pelletier replied, "as to the end of our expeditionary force."

The Francois Republic had been fortunate to have a good portion of its mage force escape from the battle on the Rhine. The mages were valuable in themselves and also brought back with them recordings of what had happened. Unfortunately, the mages who had escaped the Devil's grasp had, to a man, fled shortly after battle was joined. Thus, while Frankish military planners knew how the battle had begun, and knew that their army had ultimately been captured or destroyed, they could only speculate as to how much damage it had done in the mean time.

If they had dished out as much damage to the Germanian war machine as their loss had cost the Francois Republic, then Degurechaff's actions took on a much different light than if the expeditionary force had simply been lost. Unfortunately, while they wouldn't have answers for at least a few more days, a decision had to made now.

On the other hand, de Lugo misliked the idea that their plans should be molded around Degurechaff's state of mind. The whole point of the Molotov-Ribéry pact was for the Francois Republic to take its rightful place in the world order. To do that they needed to act, not react.

He stood. The other men stayed silent, waiting to hear his decision.

"Our task is not to divine Degurchaff's thoughts. It is to secure the position of the Francois Republic," de Lugo said. "If our army was utterly defeated, then the war is lost unless we can turn this trap back upon the Germanians and capture their leader."

The loss of an army without doing any corresponding damage was bad enough. What was worse was what it said about the relative quality of their armed forces. If that truly was the case, he should only be grateful that Degurechaff had presented a means of salvaging the situation.

"If our army did lasting damage to Germania, then the war is on level footing," de Lugo continued, "and we can afford to take a risk in order to seize the advantage."

He brought his fist down on the table for emphasis.

"Chancellor Degurechaff has come to our country looking for a fight. We will give it to her."

Ultimately, the Francois Republic could not achieve its aims by standing on defense. They needed to stake their claim as one of the leading lights of Europe by taking down the Germanian war machine. Degurechaff had presented them with a shortcut. Even if she intended a trap, the army would simply have to prevail.

His goal was ever and always the pursuit of victory. He had no interest in respectable failure.

ooOoo

March 26, 1941

Koenig's horse shifted underneath him. He patted its neck and murmured a bit of nonsense to help it settle down. The beast was picking up on his own excitement. Fortunately, it hadn't shifted forward, so he was still hidden along with another dozen mounted men in the shadows of the forest.

They'd caused a little trouble here and there over the last few days. Nothing like that first big hit on the supply depot. It wasn't that they'd run into any resistance, they'd just never run into an opportunity. To be fair, he'd been more focused on moving deeper into Russy territory than anything else, wanting some distance from the buildup of troops near the border. As exciting as it was to take on the enemy army directly, it would be dangerous to make a habit out of that sort a thing.

Yesterday, they'd run across a double-tracked railroad bridge across a small river out in the countryside. Just the sort of thing that could snarl up an army's logistics if it went missing. Unfortunately, due to the nature of their mission, they weren't carrying any kind of demolition charges. Taking the bridge apart with magic would be detected from tens of kilometers away.

After consultation, he'd decided that they would need to get a little creative for this one. The first step was to ride east along the railway, towards the source of supplies. Naturally, they'd kept their distance from the rails themselves, not wanting to draw too much attention. Eventually they'd found a nice forested hill overlooking the tracks from about half a kilometer away. Then they settled in for step two: wait.

By this point they'd abandoned their Russy uniforms and were dressed in a motley assortment of purloined clothing. Koenig hadn't had a proper shave in almost a week. He was certain that he wouldn't have looked at all out of place in a bandit troop. Probably appropriate, all things considered.

Once his horse had settled down, he returned his gaze to the tracks below. Despite his vigilance, he heard the train before he saw it, the whistle announcing its presence for kilometers around.

He held the horse steady and waited for it to come into sight. He squinted, tapping into a mild vision enhancement spell. The locomotive was pulling a dozen box cars. Behind them, though, were the tankers he'd been waiting for. With a shout, he set his horse moving on down the side of the hill. His men followed behind in a storm of thundering hooves.

He approached the tracks at an angle. Even running flat out, the horse couldn't quite match the pace of the train. Fortunately, Koenig wasn't entirely constrained by the limits of flesh and blood. He pulled his feet out of the stirrups, carefully hauled himself into a crouch on top of the saddle, and then strained the stealth casting abilities of his orb to the very limits to leap forward. Behind him the horse stumbled and fell. Ahead of him the back edge of a boxcar dominated his vision.

He reached out to grab the ladder hanging off the back of the car and hauled himself in. He looked back to confirm that the men following him had made it onto the train as well, then ducked back as a bullet punched through the train car behind him. Carefully forming a shield over his face, he stuck his head out again, looking forward this time. It seemed one of the cars up ahead was being used to transport troops, and one patriotic soldier was leaning out a window to try and shoot down Koenig's band of train robbers.

Koenig drew his pistol and snapped off a few shots. None hit home, but it was enough to convince the soldier to pull back into the car. That done, he holstered his pistol and moved back to get both hands on the ladder before activating a communication spell.

"Everybody make it?" he asked. Receiving a chorus of affirmations, he smiled. "Meet me up top."

He clambered up the ladder and crouched down to wait. It didn't take long before the twelve men of his first company had gathered around him on top of the train. The wind whipping around them was unpleasant, but hardly worth noticing for an aerial mage. 

"There are soldiers riding two cars up from us. You'll need to clear them out," Koenig instructed. "I'll hurry forward to deal with the engineer."

They nodded. Koenig stood up without any further ado and began trotting forward. His men followed him as he leaped onto the next car forward. As they approached the car full of soldiers, Koenig just kept moving while the men behind him began to work their way down and plan their assault. He went ahead and fired a few rounds down through the roof to serve as a distraction.

A few blind shots went up through the roof behind him. Further back, he heard more gunfire as his men started their assault. Koenig smiled, but he didn't have time to do much more. The plan had some margin for error, but not much.

Koenig didn't break stride as he jumped from car to car. As he reached the last of the box cars, he was plunged into the cloud of smoke coming off the locomotive. He tweaked the shield in front of his face to filter out the worst of it and kept moving. The next jump took him on top of the pile of coal in the tender. Without magically enhanced reflexes the footing would have been impossible. As it was, it was merely challenging.

He jumped down and stepped into the engine compartment to find the engineer was yelling into a radio. Koenig pulled out his pistol and shot out the body of the radio, then brought it to bear on the engineer.

"Slow down the train!"

"Fuck you!"

Koenig sighed. Some people just didn't respond well to a gun in the face.

He punched the engineer square in the nose. As the man staggered back against the wall, Koenig holstered his pistol and drew out his knife. Taking a step forward, he grabbed the engineer by the front of his coveralls and pressed the flat of the blade against the side of his face.

"Slow down the train."

"All right, all right."

Koenig released his grip on the man and gestured with the knife for him to get on with things. As the engineer went to work on the levers in front of him, Koenig received the all clear from his men. Further bolstering his good mood, the train indeed began to slow down. Not a moment to soon, either. The bridge was coming into view.

Just as the engine reached the bridge, Koenig reached over and fully engaged the emergency brake. There was a great screeching noise as the train gradually came to a halt. By the time it stopped, the engine was almost all the way across the bridge. The tanker cars were about halfway across, just where he wanted them.

He grabbed the engineer and hauled him down from the train. He dragged him forward off the bridge and well clear of the train tracks. Ignoring the man's muttered curses, Koenig tore strips from his shirt and used them to bind his hands and feet together. He wasn't about to execute an unarmed civilian if he didn't have to, although he suspected the communist government wouldn't have any such qualms.

Once the man was safely immobilized, Koenig jogged back down the length of the train. He noted on the way that apparently two cars had been set aside to transport soldiers. They wouldn't be causing any more trouble for his mission, though.

By the time he reached the tanker cars, his men were already there, opening valves and letting the oil within flow out to coat the tracks below. One enterprising lieutenant handed Koenig a safety flare, the kind that was supposed to be used to warn oncoming vehicles of an obstruction. Koenig thanked him before sending the rest of the men forward off of the bridge. Second company was already riding into view, leading twelve extra horses along with them. Third company and the rest of the command platoon were on overwatch duty in the forest.

Koenig waited for a moment to give the oil time to spread. He had to step back a few times to avoid being caught in a puddle of the stuff. Once the flow coming out of the tanks began to slow down Koenig went ahead and lit up the road flare. He paused, then fished a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it up, took a drag, and tossed the flare to land under the open valve of the last tanker.

It lit up nicely. He walked away with a brisk stride, enjoying the feeling of heat behind him that spoke of a job well done.

He mounted the horse that was waiting for him and led the men off at a steady trot. The men up in the forest rode down to fall in with their group. For now, it was important to move quickly. In an hour or two, he'd have to figure out how best to stay out of sight.

While satisfying, this stunt was definitely going to get Russy attention. They'd have to lay low for a little while before embarking on their next bout of sabotage.

Koenig was working out his plans for the next few days in his head when he felt magic being used behind him. He turned back, ready to reprimand his men, only for his eyes to widen as he saw four dots off in the distance rapidly growing larger as what was clearly an aerial mage patrol group drew closer.

For a heartbeat, he was frozen in shock. He'd played cat and mouse with the Rus for months out in the frozen wasteland of Sibyria. He knew for a fact that they had no mages of their own. If they had, he wouldn't have been a tenth as effective out there.

Then he got hold of himself, shaking his head. Reality was what it was. The Major would have slapped him if she'd seen him lose his cool over one little surprise.

Now that he'd had a moment to think, he realized one important fact: these mages didn't know that his team was anything other than horse mounted thugs. He turned forward and activated the communication spell, making doubly sure to keep the spell stealthy as he sent the message to his whole company.

"Nobody go hot until I do."

Rather than jump into an aerial dogfight in the middle of enemy territory, it made more sense to wait for the enemy mages to come to them.

Whoever these mystery mages were, their skills were no joke. They closed the distance between them quickly. The first warning Koenig would have had of their presence were he not a mage would have been the explosive spell that they sent down to detonate directly in front of him.

His horse reared up. Koenig let himself be thrown, rolling to the ground. The rest of his men flowed around him before milling around in confusion as the aerial patrol floated down into view.

One man stayed in the air, keeping his rifle trained on the men on horseback. The other three landed near Koenig as he staggered to his feet. They didn't waste any time with small talk as the leader strode forward, slugging Koenig in the gut before grabbing his hand and moving to twist it behind his back.

Most mages didn't spend much time working on close quarters combat. There was no point when you could easily overcome any non-mage thanks to the advantage of strength and reflex enhancement. Fighting other mages was usually best done from a distance and with the use of a rifle. Still, Koenig had seen the Major take apart enough enemy mages with her bare hands to be drawn to the subject himself. He was still far from matching her natural ease in a fight, but he'd put in enough time to at least consider himself a dedicated hobbyist.

The man leading these communist mages had clearly neglected the topic. A simple shield spell on his forearm let Koenig's hand slip out of his grip without any resistance. His opponent was just starting to sense that something was wrong as Koenig took a firm grip on his knife.

Drawing it free, he activated a mage blade enchantment at the same time. It smashed through the enemy's defensive shell without slowing down. He couldn't even feel the resistance as it passed through his body. Stepping forward, he flipped the knife around into a more natural grip before slashing back the other way. The other two nearby mages were still trying to figure out what had happened and didn't manage so much as a defensive screen before they fell to pieces.

The mage in the air wheeled around to face Koenig as was just starting to bring his rifle to bear when a volley of shots rang out from the men he had just been watching. He was dead before he hit the ground. Koenig nodded in satisfaction before moving to check the leader's body.

Other than the usual sort of things that a man might carry in his pockets, there were two things that caught Koenig's eye. First, an identification badge proclaiming him an agent of the NKVD's Secret Paranormal Directorate. Second, a half melted orb fitted to the man's collar that was a dead ringer for the Type 97. The existence of a previously unknown directorate of the NKVD was bad enough. If all of it's agents were outfitted with dual core orbs, that was something that could change the whole course of the war.

Koenig activated the communication spell. "Take anything they were carrying and toss the bodies on the fire. We're calling off the mission early and heading home."

As much as he hated to leave a job half done, the Chancellor needed to know about this as soon as possible.

ooOoo

AN2: Tanya was, of course, firing the Luftmagier Gewher, Modell 1940.