A Major Misunderstanding (Youjo Senki)

Summary: Tanya assumes the worst out of everyone, and gets fucked by the misunderstanding field in more ways than one.

Tanya POV:

"-pleased to announce that the efforts of our diplomatic corps have borne fruit. The temporary ceasefire is no more, and a true peace agreement has been agreed by all major parties. The most bloody conflict in modern history draws to a close - the Great War is over, and our soldiers are coming home!"

I scowl at the radio as the host echoes the biggest news of the day - or, decade, even. All around me, my fellow hospitalised soldiers continue to revel in celebration - the heavy spectre of death lifted in a single newsflash as both sides appear to agree to lay down their arms. They believed, or perhaps, chose to believe that this news was genuine. Or, more to the point - that this version of events hadn't been heavily sanitised and watered down to serve as suitable propaganda to feed the citizens and soldiers of the Empire.

In hindsight, I should have known this was coming. As skilled and devastating as the 203rd was, we simply couldn't be everywhere. Even if we won every battle, the Empire was still losing the war. The conflict dragging ever closer to its inevitable conclusion: A twisted parallel of my original world's World War One. Ending in a one-sided treaty and the birth of a deep-seated national resentment at the 'oppressors', that would one day lead to the rise of fascism in the heart of Europe and the reignition of a world wide conflict. Defeat and disgrace for the losing side, denounced and punished as the 'warmongers' of the conflict.

The losing side that I had the misfortune to be born into. I had hitched myself to the losing horse, even with full knowledge of the expected outcome. Certainly, some differences existed between the two timelines - but the general trend of geopolitics didn't. Everyone was invested in preventing a European hegemon from forming. Nobody had believed me when I spoke of the American's joining the war. Nobody believed that the communists would ever establish themselves as a threat and turn their corrupt gaze to the West. And now, as much as I had tried to resist it - the noose had tightened around us. For all the talk of mutual agreements and future cooperation in the rebuilding efforts, the details of the truth were there for those who knew what to look for.

A few minutes later, I hear what I was waiting for.

"-the light of the devastating damage that they can bring to bear, both sides of the conflict have mutually agreed to reduce the number of active combat mages serving in the military. The majority of these brave veterans are being encouraged to employ their considerable talents in a number of lucrative roles across a variety of sectors-"

I close my eyes. There it is. The message was clear even dressed up as 'hiring opportunities elsewhere'. Downsizing. Naturally, things couldn't be exactly the same as the Treaty of Versailles. Mages had proven to be the trump card of this war, so restricting the Empire's military couldn't be as simple as merely placing an arbitrary limit on the number of ships or tanks that could be built - although I didn't doubt that those terms would also be found in the paperwork somewhere.

It was clever. A viable mage program should expect to take years to get off the ground - in every sense of the word. By forbidding the use of combat mages in the profession that they had trained all of their lives in and taking away their military-grade orbs, the majority of our air-power would be crippled for decades. Even the people that would have been the teachers for the next generation would leave the profession or country over time. The coalition had clearly intended to set this up so that for the mages of the Empire, the only true step forward for their career - the only place where their skillset would ever be able to be utilised - was to defect to a foreign country. Carrot and stick. Poverty in the Empire, or honoured guests abroad. The skills were still valuable, just not here. The mass recruitment of Nazi scientists in my original timeline springs to mind. The peace terms are twisted and brutally pragmatic in equal measure. A textbook example of inflicting brain-drain on a nation, sucking its lifeblood for decades to come.

The spin piece they were working on over the radio was laughable. Lifelong military veterans, losing their military orbs and fitting right into a cushy role as a researcher to advance technology for the good of us all? Hah. Research subjects, perhaps. Only a handful even had the qualifications to claim that they possessed the requisite education to act in a more senior role, the rest were hyper-specialised in adapting certain arithmetic formulas and spells - with not an inkling of the rigorous processes and testing that went into proper scientific theory. They would recruit some of the more photogenic ones for the sake of propaganda pieces and to reassure the public that their veterans had not been abandoned, the rest would likely be subject to the likes of Dr Schugel - or perhaps worse. It was easy to imagine, bereft of any military use for mages, that the Empire might allow human experimentation or even outright dissection in the name of gaining some slight advantage that wasn't restricted by the treaty.

That was logical. Cold-blooded, of course - but given how worthless many of the Empire's mages now were... I fully expect the Empire to seek to mitigate costs and cut ties to the greatest extent possible. All they had to do was look away as mages fell into the cracks of unregulated private companies with no ethical code, and then send the reward money to the company the next time they made a major breakthrough in the nature of magic.

Admittedly, that was speculation - but not without good cause. They say that safety and ethical regulations are written in blood, and this world has yet to spill enough to fill the page. If it wasn't explicitly illegal, many would argue that it is their patriotic duty to take every step possible towards the survival of the Empire.

If that was even possible, the full peace terms and negotiations were largely done behind closed doors - doubtless to conceal the truth from the citizens and soldiers of the Empire and preserve the government's reputation as they navigated this crisis. In reality, who knows how many concessions they were forced to give up for a chance at peace? Worst of all, some of those backroom deals might relate to me personally: I had somehow had the wretched luck of becoming a major figurehead of the war to the enemy, and while the rules on war crimes and the punishments for such had yet to be truly fleshed out in this world compared to my last - I had skirted close enough to the line that the threat of a biased jury ordering my execution by firing squad in some second-coming of the Nuremburg trials was very, very real to me.

If nothing else, I would be a prized scalp for the enemy - and my value to the Empire outside that of a bargaining piece had plummeted dramatically based solely on what little we did know about the peace terms. If I was to be ousted from the army, I would either have my title stripped from me and sentenced to poverty on the streets - or outright traded away to a foreign nation to be executed. Indeed, my position in the army was my sole lifeline - throwing an officer to the enemy as a sacrificial pawn would be politically untenable, but a disgraced former officer that had been accused of war crimes and later dishonourably discharged from service? I would enjoy no such protection.

That meant that I needed to be on guard, not only against tall-tales that were too good to be true - but I also needed to be ready for when the Empire started using more underhanded methods to get me out of the army. Intimidation. Hazing. Bullying. Baiting me into striking one of my superiors, or accusing me of disobeying orders. I couldn't put anything past them, they'd do anything and sacrifice anyone for the sake of the Empire - and I was no exception to that.

With that dour thought, I settle in to wait. Not that there was anything else to do while waiting to be discharged from hospital. The latest battle with Mary Sioux had been... intense. Most of it was a blur, leaving me only with a vague recollection of pushing the Type-95 to its absolute limit while battling through the skies with forced prayers flowing through my lips like water. Being X had made an appearance, though the exact details of it were as much of a blur as the rest of the fight.  Why had he allowed the war to end? His stated goals of a world filled with strife and conflict becoming more faithful had yet to be proven by any empirical evidence. Even the prayers forced upon me to use the Type-95 were purely transactional in nature, no different than a simple animal learning how to pull on a lever that dispenses food or water. Yet the war was over and he had elected not to make a single appearance across my entire stay in the hospital. Very unusual. Had he taken my prayers as a sign of his victory, and lost interest in both the war and myself in that single instant?

It was hard to say that I would be entirely displeased with that result, nothing good had ever come of his involvement in my life - but I couldn't rightly say that I was pleased if I was correct in my assumption. A supposed god claiming an empty victory and taking the ball home with him to prevent reality from ever striking home, anybody would be annoyed after being involved in his 'game' for so long.

One day turns to three. Three into five. Reports trickle across my bed. The 203rd were disbanding. Scattered to the winds as fast as the army found places for them to work. Many had come by personally, to thank me for my own efforts in the war and cite me as an 'inspiration' and 'incredible leader'. In my painkiller-induced insanity, I had taken those thanks at face value at the time. It was only when my men, all of them utter battle-maniacs that I had to constantly rein in from sating their bloodlust on whatever crossed their paths, had started talking about the joy of the hard-won peace and the benefits they were getting from their 'retirement' or new employment - only then - did I realise the deception. It must have been the price of their extensive severance package, a hefty sum in exchange for appearing to cooperate with the plan to get the Silver Argent out of the army.

I couldn't blame them, they had made the duplicity as obvious as they could. Not even the top brass of the Empire realised what their true, murderous colours were - so they had put on these fake, smiling faces and warned me as clearly as they could: 'They're coming to get you'. Message received. It was likely that they hadn't understood the implications of the attempt to get me to put down the rifle - but had sabotaged the attempt at trickery out of some remnant of loyalty even after the war was over and our unit was broken up.

Knowing that, and working backwards through the conversations, the comments about my leadership took on a darker slant. The possibility that I was being set up as a scapegoat- more of a scapegoat, that is - was very real. The subtle hints were there that I was being set up as the sole responsible figure for everything that the 203rd had done, which, while not entirely unreasonable - didn't make me confident that I could ever expect a fair trial if this was the set-up for it from my own side. As another pressure tactic, any breaches of protocol, crimes or mistakes that happened in the army were ultimately blamed on the commanding officer when push comes to shove. Another set of trials to weather, a weapon held in the wings of my detractors in the event that all of their quiet and 'subtle' attempts behind the scenes failed. A trial would be messy, unpopular with the public and embarrassing for the Empire - but if it got me into the sights of an Albish or Francois firing squad, I would imagine those countries being very willing to ease off on the worst of the restrictions that the treaty had doubtless placed on us.

Vexing. For me, it was like the war hadn't ended at all. Still enemies on all sides, except this time - my allies have been stripped away right from the outset. This was too much to blame on simple bad luck. Being X had a hand in this. Whether he had just changed up his tactics - interfering as usual, just without stopping by to gloat and spout philosophy at me - or if he had just set this series of obstacles up as a parting shot at me before leaving this world to its own devices, I couldn't be sure.

Seven days turns to ten. Ten to fourteen. I'm discharged, a final bill of clean health - a luxury compared to the wartime frenzy of a hasty treatment coupled with a firm shove back out of the door onto the battlefield. And then, as expected, the axe begins to fall.

I find myself facing off against the top brass of the Empire. All of our top leadership, in a single room arrayed against me. The subtle messaging couldn't be clearer. A reminder of my position and theirs, who had the power and who did not. A somewhat familiar scene to me, albeit that I was typically on the other end in my time in corporate Japan - except I was genuinely investigating wrongdoing or interviewing for facts related to ongoing disciplinary proceedings, while my superiors were less concerned about finding out the truth of the situation and more concerned with immediate results.

But I had to pretend that I hadn't cottoned on to their scheming. A good little soldier, doing her part. Utterly oblivious to any and all political scheming or ambitions.

"Major Tanya von Degurechaff." General Zettour begins.

"Sir!" I snap out a perfect salute. "Ready for your orders!"

I'm not blind enough to miss the subtle ripple of tension in the room at the words. Good. The implication couldn't be misunderstood - that I had opted not to accept any of the several offers trying to lure me away from service, and instead intended to maintain my current position. Best of all, the action was disguised as a display of patriotism and loyalty rather than that of a sleazy worker attempting to use the company as a shield from consequences.

General Zettour continues as if I had said nothing. "First of all, I would like to extend the gratitude of Central Command for your great service to the nation throughout the war. The demonstration of your skills in your duel with Mary Sioux was a major catalyst in gaining the political will required to enact the treaty that ended the war. None of us here in Central Command will forget that, as our great nation slowly begins to rebuild."

I can barely mask the angry snarl that comes to my face as I understand the meaning behind his words. They were blaming the outcome on me? Victory after victory, time and time again. But then, their ace-in-the-hole gets evenly matched in a single fight on a mission which we still completed successfully - and that's the catalyst for the Empire realising the war was doomed? They realised that their golden strategy of 'Tanya, go win' might not be sufficient to take on literally the entire world - not because we were losing everywhere else, but because I had been briefly stalled out in battle?

Stupid, stupid! Not just them, but me. Of course this was how they saw it - no matter how successful an employee was, every organisational failure at this level needed a scapegoat. The reasons that led up to our crushing defeat didn't matter, except the very last one - as the saying goes, the straw that broke the camel's back. The adage implies that the camel, just like the Empire, was performing fine until the addition of that final bit of weight. One piece of bad news too many, and now my name was irrevocably linked with our final defeat - regardless of the fact that it had actually been a victory-by-technicality. It was stupid. It was unfair. To continue with the metaphor, it was choosing to blame the last piece of straw, and not the half-a-dozen tourists and their baggage stacked on top of each other clinging to the camel's back.

But that was life. I settle down, cold logic and rationality taking over. "I understand, Sir. This isn't the result that I hoped for either." I maintain my professional demeanour. "I look forward to the opportunity to improve on my record - and perform to the level that the Empire needs from me." A professional response. Accepting the outcome as fact. Acknowledging that a stronger and more experienced version of myself could have performed better. Direct and straightforward about my desire to improve.

Of course, the corporate world and the politics of a defeated nation were very different. Even if a simple, textbook response like this was optimal given the circumstances, that didn't mean it would help me here. Indeed, even in my previous world it would only have acted as mitigation of the damage to my career. But still, a professional attitude was the minimum that was required to secure a reference from the company and seeking employment elsewhere in the sector, brushing off previous mistakes and office troubles like water from a duck. The threat that they wouldn't forget about this, that they would continue to hold the grudge forever... well. It wasn't like I hadn't been prepared for my career to be put on hold for now while mulling over my options in my hospital bed. They couldn't be clearer that a quiet promotion away from the public eye was off the table right now.

But as I had already established, leaving the army right now was a possible death sentence - meaning I would have to endure the ire of the supreme leaders of the nation. Titans of the political scene. There was no higher level to appeal to about any abuses of power, illegal actions or any other concerns for morally-dubious actions that they might take. Their word was the law. The might of a world superpower - if, perhaps, a humbled one - at their fingertips. The only way back into their good graces was going to involve a lot of compliance and a healthy dose of bootlicking. A terrible thought, perhaps, for one of the honour-bound fools that were still getting scraped out of the trenches even now. I had survived - for a time, at least - an internship and years of being a junior worker in corporate Japan, I would survive here too.

General Zettour looked uncomfortable at that. "Yes, well." He coughs. "As enthusiastic as you are, I think everyone is in agreement that going a second-time-around would be a poor decision at this juncture."

As expected, however much it pained me to hear. As much as I would protest the fact that I had been blamed for the failure of the war, if you accepted that as fact - then this was purely logical. You didn't give someone that had just catastrophically failed a project the chance to immediately bungle another one. Upper management didn't see the same picture I did. As much as I could cry my innocence, I was ultimately the name they noted as the final, deciding factor when the Western Front threw in the proverbial towel.

Still. Displaying eagerness, loyalty to the company and an earnest desire to fix my supposed 'mistakes' went a long way when it came to putting on a good show for others. "I understand, Sir. I trust your judgement, but I eagerly await the day that you change your mind. Next time, I'll give it my all!"

With any luck, even if the majority would continue to loath me - someone would take a shine to my go-getting attitude and take me under their wing, seeking to profit from my hard work for little investment themselves. That might sound exploitative to someone unfamiliar with the cutthroat nature of the business world, but such symbiotic relationships were the fuel of a successful career. Finding a sponsor, making friends in high places and positioning myself for the right path to promotion... my ambitions didn't have to end just because of one streak of misfortune. I was good at this. I knew what I was doing.

Or so I thought. I had thought that my admittedly-cheesy declaration, full of naivety and obliviousness to the schemes around me, would attract at least some glimmer of positive response. Instead, the energy in the room turns almost glacial. Had I misjudged the politics of the situation? Surely, with as many apparent rivals in the same room as each other - there would at least be a few nodding along, or giving a considering look at my capabilities and track record with an appraising eye?

One aide turns to me, a deathly quiet whisper carrying across the room. "You mean to say-" He speaks slowly. "-that you weren't already giving it your all, in the skies over Londinium?"

I freeze. Idiot. Idiot, moron! "Not at all-" I wave my arms in panic before remembering the company that I was in. "I simply meant to say, during that battle I had placed the highest priority on completing our assigned mission over destroying the enemy-" And spent three-days straight in a Being-X induced religious frenzy while locked in battle with Mary Sioux, doped up on more enhancement spells than I had ever used before in my life. And still didn't win. Of course that was me using everything! But how could I say that now? Why did I even have to bring it up? The conversation was moving on! "-given the outcome, that was clearly a sad mistake on my part. But it's also a known fact that magical potential continues to grow up until the onset of early adulthood. While I may have met only limited success on my most recent mission-" Stress the fact that I did succeed, again. "-I'm confident that in the unfortunate outbreak of a second World War within the next decade or two, I will be more than prepared to serve my country to the fullest and easily surpass my recent, dismal performance."

Zettour sits down heavily in a nearby seat, clearly feeling that he had said enough on the matter. I take it as a sign to drop the topic, and allow a pleasant silence to fill the room as I wait for the next General to address me. Even if they were satisfied with my answers, it didn't truly change anything. The elephant in the room was still at large, after all. If they couldn't drum me out of the army, they couldn't package me off to the Coalition in chains. I hadn't yet heard their offers or their threats, but I knew they were coming.

"The leaders of both the Coalition and the Empire are united in their approach to peace, Major." General Rudersdorf takes the opportunity to speak up. "I should be clear, a second- ah- 'World War' is not on anyone's political agenda."

"General-" One aide complains, casting a stray glance at me. "-is this wise?"

"Silence!" Rudersdorf keeps his gaze on me. "I will ask you, Major. How do you feel about that? I'm most interested in your thoughts on the matter. Speak freely."

I smile. An easy one. Doubtless to make me as unprepared as possible for the upcoming hard sell. Knowing the most likely path towards fascism that lay ahead of the Empire in the wake of economic devastation, military defeat and brutal treaty terms enforced at gunpoint - it was almost a cheat code in this world. An easy chance to prove that I had insight and wisdom beyond my years.

I give a serene smile. "As a soldier, it would truly be my pleasure to see my country thrive in peacetime. Naturally, I'm proud to serve when my country requires it - but it's clear that the priorities of the Empire right now need to be to handle internal issues first before casting our gaze outwards once more."

A few weeks ago, this would have gotten me executed. Now, I had the freedom to openly speak of the merits of peace, capitalism and a globalised economy. A common sentiment among the entire army right now - well, the first one of the three, at least. It would be easy to stick to some simple, uncaring statement about enjoying my new relative freedom outside of wartime, or making a joke about still getting paid. But if, by some slim chance, this wasn't purely to soften me up for the killing blow - if this was a genuine request for advice after some of my earlier insights had paid off so spectacularly... then I should take steps to highlight that however unpleasant the treaty likely was, the opportunities of a true and lasting peace were far greater. Fiscal responsibility alone would stave off the potential support that any alternative to Hitler might have found.

I nod to myself. "There are more than enough problems within the Empire to keep us occupied for years to come, and plenty of opportunities afforded to us by a peace - however wanted or unwanted it may be - that we could never have managed under a wartime economy. It goes without saying that the current peace may be fragile, easily destroyed by a single bad actor - but that's only more reason for us to wholeheartedly rebuild our nation with the limited time we have. Our industry, our farmland and our trade. All of them need time and investment to recover and contribute back to our economy. Even our politics, the Kaiser remains in a self-imposed exile and our nation lacks a true figurehead. While it's certainly functioning in good hands right now-" I give a polite nod to the members of High Command in the room. "-eventually the question will have to be asked, who has the political might to take the seat of power now that the Kaiser has shown no interest in returning? We can't answer these questions if we're dragged back to war too early, and that, I believe, will be the end of the Empire."

Lehrgen has his hands clasped together. Perhaps in some sort of prayer for this country in the trials ahead. Patriotic, but pointless. Being X is notably absent, and even when he was around - he was pretty firmly against the Empire. "I can see that you've been thinking about this a lot."

"It's natural to think about the future course of my country." I agree. "In the absence of war, it's only natural to focus on the next biggest issues threatening our nation. In a few years, I might be dealing with the consequences myself if they aren't handled well now." Back to the frontlines as the Empire fails to meet its as-of-yet unannounced reparation payments, a spiralling inflation crisis and growing border tensions to all sides. Certainly, the geopolitics of the Empire ensured that the equivalent of WW1 had played out very differently - but that didn't mean that the wrong sort of parties wouldn't rise to power once the same circumstances arose as my original world.

Rudersdorf takes some time, clearly internalising my advice - planning out the future actions he might need to take to act on it. I sincerely wished him the best of luck in that respect, even if his next act was doubtless to attempt to separate me from the army in preparation for trading me off to the Coalition. It wasn't personal, I hoped, just politics. The Coalition might not have had the political will to straight-up demand me as a bartering peace under threat of continuing the war, but under the table - it was clear what would be easier for the Empire. He would do what was best for him, and I would do what was best for me. We could both understand each other that way.

"Yes, well." He shifts uncomfortably. "No chance of that for a good long while. You seem to have a lot of good ideas to put into practice, have you considered choosing a different career path going forward? While I admire your enthusiasm, those 'opportunities' that you're searching for won't be found in the army in the near future. You've spent the majority of your life in the military system or education in some way, perhaps, if you were to give another career a fair chance - you might find a new passion?"

There it is. I salute. "I thank you for the suggestion, Sir! However, I would like to continue to serve the Empire in my current position, Sir!"

He grimaces. "I see. Well then. We'll... keep an eye out for roles that would suit you. Ideally, we would have you training new recruits - but the treaty... is perhaps a bit overzealous when it comes to restrictions on combat mages right now. Better safe than sorry, something like that. Waiting for the times to catch up a bit before a line gets crossed that we can't step back from."

Lehrgen straightens. "General." He begins, a rapturous look on his face. "Might a suggest allowing a brief vacation? After years of ceaseless combat, it would be remiss of us not to allow all of our troops some time to destress. A distant, tropical island of some sort. We could have an assessor of some kind verify that the Major isn't doing anything... stressful or approached by any disgruntled elements of the population. We could frame it as both a reward and a chance to catch up on all the delayed psych reports that were missed due to the war effort."

That seems to strike a chord in the assembled officers. "A fine idea." Says one. "Time to adjust to... changed circumstances." Says another. "-long way from the Frontline, and Berun for that matter. Less chance of an incident-" I remain standing with my eyes locked on the man opposite me as the whispers continue. "-ctly understandable, nobody could argue that she deserves it. Both the soldiers and the public-"

"Enough!" Rudensdorf turns to me. "Major Tanya Von Degurechaff. I am reassigning you to take mandatory leave at a location that will be decided at a later time. We hold a number of minor island territories beyond our borders that are ideal for rest and relaxation-"

Those bastards! They were going to 'Napoleon' me! Exile to a deserted island- well. Actually, that worked to my benefit. If it had happened several years earlier I would have been jumping for joy - but now? Now I needed to know the catch. The Empire had too much to lose by letting me go. Was the island a ruse? A place to grab me away from prying eyes and stray media reporters? Separating me from my power base? Perhaps it was just a research facility and I would never be seen again. Too many possibilities. "Sir!" I interrupt. "I would prefer to continue to serve in roles better suited to me. I'll even happily continue working without taking scheduled leave, so long as I can remain here."

"I appreciate that the realities of the situation, we can hardly force you to go or stay anywhere..." Rudensdorf actually seems half-swayed by my words. A middle-manager back in my original world would have been tempted by that. The star employee offering to work through their annual leave and pulling unpaid overtime - but however dire the Empire's finances, they didn't need my labour right now. They needed my resignation.

Lehrgen jumps to his feet, pacing over to the general and whispering into his ear. I subtly spin up a hearing enhancement to listen in.

"-absolutely can not back down now!" I grit my teeth. No wonder they had sent so many men to confront me. It was impossible to persuade them all at once - an argument that one might take seriously could be swiftly rebuffed and ignored by the next man, allowing the general an easy out from any line of attack. Cunning - and a stark reminder that despite their ineptitude in matters of war, these men were all career politicians occupying some of the most powerful positions in the country for years even before the first whisper of war ever broke out. "General, I will remind you that all troops are entitled to a regular rotation away from the front. Without the justification of an ongoing war, we simply have no lawful option other than to allot the Major her overdue vacation - and that is our weapon and defence! You know how she is with rules and policy. We can sit and say that our hands are tied so long as don't back down. It is the law, after all." The near frantic whispering would be mildly amusing if it wasn't spelling out my imminent doom. "And if you remember, the Major has always been a close adherent to the letter of the law. Until proven otherwise, we should test that to it's absolute limit before giving it up as a lost cause."

There it was. The blatant admission of their intentions. I'd almost, almost, allowed myself to believe that this was just exile. Sending a problematic officer to a distant colony, never to return. But no, my first instincts were correct. This was a trap, one that would have caught any average, unwitting officer - one without the political understanding that another life granted concerning how these things worked.

"Yes. Quite." Rudensdorf regains some steel in his voice as the conversation returns to me at full volume. "Regardless of the special circumstances surrounding you, it is our absolute duty to ensure that protocols are followed correctly. You could consider this your new posting, if you prefer. Another officer will be present to ensure that no issues arise during your stay and to handle any logistical aspects for you."

I noted the change in phrasing carefully. Not a vacation, but a forced deployment to a non-combat zone. On one hand, that kept my position as known in the military system - it would be impossible for me to just be 'disappeared' under their watch - but any semblance of freedom disappeared with it. I feel the next chain settling around my neck as I consider their aims. A parole officer of sorts. No. An outright Sword of Damocles. If I was explicitly assigned to this 'island' then it was impossible for me to leave without permission - something that would never be granted. This officer would be watching. Waiting. Looking for any tiny breach of protocol or sign of disobedience to have me thrust out of the protection of the army. He could simply act as the drill-sergeant from hell if he liked, ordering me this way and that until I eventually slipped up or snapped - and then? Disobeying a direct order, disrespecting the chain of command... it was all too easy to see the outline of the plan.

Giving me just enough rope to hang myself. All without costing themselves a penny in political capital.

I force an oblivious smile to my face. "And how long would this... new assignment last?" I ask sweetly.

The officers share looks, some openly shrugging. "Months, at least."

"Years, maybe?" A hesitant suggestion draws a round of approval from the assembled staff officers.

"Let's not set a strict end-date on it." Rudensdorf seems to relax at my question. "I think all of us are in agreement that this is the time to be flexible. I assure you, nobody is going to protest if you find yourself enjoying your stay and decide to remain for longer than expected."

I very carefully don't react to the most blatant threat yet. An indefinite sentence. A silent promise that they were going to leave me out there for as long as it took to break me.

But, if I let them know that I was onto them - that I had no intention of giving them the slightest hint of an excuse... they might just change their tactics. They were only taking this route because they assumed I had no experience about the different routes a company might take to get rid of an employee - but at the end of the day, they were the only military force in the Empire. If they decided that I had to go, no amount of protesting would change the outcome. The media could be suppressed for a time and they would survive the blowback that selling off a 'war-hero' would cause.

So I smile. "Thank you, General. I'll begin to pack my things and await the full details of my transfer. I understand that might take some time, with the next round of peace-talks happening so soon-"

Lehrgen jumps to his feet. Why was he so jumpy? Couldn't he just accept the success of his scheme at getting me shipped off while he soaks up all of the credit for the good that I had achieved? I wasn't bitter, I understood the logic behind it - but somehow the unprofessionalism in the way he was going about this rankled more than the actions. There was something... impersonal when a colleague or manager swept in to methodically assign the blame for a project's failures on you and the successes on themselves. It was just life, the reality of the workplace. This... felt personal. Spiteful. Irrational - like the man who had killed me in the first place, so many years ago. His efforts at pushing me down wouldn't endear him in the eyes of his colleagues, not because of the morality of them - but because he had been so obvious about it. Business had no patience for people who valued some hidden grudge above rational business decisions.

"I'll handle this immediately." He almost shouts the declaration. "An immediate transfer. No need to spend any time gathering personal effects - I will ensure that enough funds are allocated to ensure that you can purchase anything you require on-site."

"Good thinking, Lehrgen." One man mutters. "Having her here for the peace-talks... that might end badly."

I pause. A fair point, not entirely spiteful then. Being forbidden to take any personal effects, travelling gear or even a change of clothes was a power play - but sending me off before the next round of bargaining happened was probably good thinking. Having me present and subdued would drive down my value at the negotiating table. Everyone present would be able to see that I was quite settled in to the peaceful life of handling long-overdue paperwork for the disbanding 203rd. The fear and hysteria fuelling the demands for me to face justice would start to fade, and any compensation that the Empire would get for handing me over would decrease. The Empire was banking on me being considered a threat, ready and raving to head back for round two. Nobody needed to know that I was actually a harmless prisoner with a metaphorical knife against my throat.

Fine. I'd misjudged the man. Slightly. In my defence, I could be forgiven for not having the most charitable views on the men planning to sign my eventual death warrant when the Coalition finally lost patience in the stalling tactics of the Empire.

"Very well." I salute. "Then, I'm ready to leave at once!"

What a terrifying meeting.

---

The paperwork is signed at a blistering pace. Train tickets are offered, but as nobody thought to place any restrictions on orb usage - I politely decline. This last flight to my destination, an Imperial island holding off of the coast of Ildoa - might well be my last taste of freedom. It's a pleasant surprise that they allowed me even this much, but I suppose - it's just one more opportunity for me to lose my nerve and attempt to flee the country as a fugitive. No patrols come out to challenge me, no questioning demands over the radio are targeted in my direction. It's a swift, but pleasant, uninterrupted journey straight across half of the Empire and the brief stretch of sea to reach my destination.

I slow down as I approach the coordinates. Fortunately, this didn't have the appearance of a hidden, mad-scientist research base. It could be concealed, perhaps - but the island was missing the hallmarks of the various research facilities I had seen over the years. The presence of non-magical power sources, the rustic nature of the small town on the south side of the island, the port that was just a bit too small to handle notable military traffic, the bustling marketplace in the centre and the relatively unkempt nature of the roads... it didn't match the image of what a military or scientific complex would aim to be like.

It made sense, and matched my thoughts the moment I had learned of my target destination. Ildoa, the definition of a fair-weather friend - we wouldn't put any critical infrastructure so close to their coastline if we could help it. It would be impossible to defend, and impossible to keep supplied in the event of a blockade. What I had initially assumed was a cover story - a deceased general leaving his personal property to the military for the purpose of relaxation - seemed to be the truth.

That property was the north half of the island. Not 'in' the north half. 'The' north half. A large house dominates the coastline on the opposite end of the island to the town, while immaculate gardens and unblemished coastlines span out in both directions. A vast stretch of territory designed to do nothing but look both pretty and imposing. A statement of wealth and power, even before it had fallen into the military's hands. Almost nobody was present within the grounds themselves, but the low hum of magic permeating the air spoke of the spellwork that was passively keeping the place in good condition. Difficult to set up for something on this scale, but perhaps it was actually cheaper than hiring a full-time workforce for something this size.

'Almost nobody'. But not quite nobody. My mana sense picked up a faint signature in the gardens. Not enough for a seasoned combat mage, but enough magical potential that the ability to do something with an orb wasn't out of the question. I swoop down on the sole resident within the grounds, landing a respectable distance away from the man and taking the final stretch at a brisk walk. No sense in terrifying my likely warden in this place and starting off on the wrong foot. There was a difference between having opposing goals and being actual enemies, after all.

The man seems relaxed, appreciating the scenery as I approach - deliberately making louder-than-usual footsteps across the stone path to announce my presence.

He turns to face me, a brief expression of surprise appearing before a wide smile appears on his face. "Major Degurechaff! I was informed that you would be arriving at some point, but I hadn't expected you to make such good time! Welcome to Pardiz."

I salute. "It's a pleasure to be here, Sir..."

"Ah, I'm Leopold von Straussen. Lieutenant-Colonel, technically, but never mind that - no need to stand on military decorum when we're both supposed to be relaxing. Just call me whatever you like." Bright-eyed and fresh-faced. Evidently hadn't spent much time on the front. A rank above mine, and at such an obviously young age. Which prompted the question - just what had he done to earn his rank? Not combat, clearly. Strategy? Intelligence? Black-hearted cunning? This man had the trust of the nation's elite to handle me and leave me as nothing but a broken bargaining tool - I'd have to be wary. Every sentence was a potential trick. Every expression a potential mask. "And can I just say, what an absolute pleasure it is to meet you. I've always wanted to meet you - but never thought that I would even get a chance to get a glimpse from afar, let alone a rare opportunity to meet in a scenario like this!"

"You're too kind, Sir." He deflates at that. It was hard to be sure if the attempt at forging a more casual atmosphere was genuine, or if he had been hoping I would settle into an overly-casual method of greeting that would give him cause to send a complaint up the chain to his superiors.

"Well, I suppose I wasn't expecting you to settle in right away - but I do hope that we'll get the opportunity to get closer over time. You might want to worry about rank, but from where I'm standing - I'm just an inexperienced officer standing next to a genuine war-hero. I should be the one that's nervous about offending you." I give a weak, fake smile at the joke as he continues. "Anyway. It's just you and me running the place, aside from some civilian specialists that come by at the weekends to check on the wards and maintenance spells." He nods to himself. "We'll be seeing a lot more of each other, so we'll have to get comfortable in each other's presence eventually."

"Understood. Are there any duties I should concern myself with immediately? I also have a number of requisition requests-" I begin, only to be interrupted.

He shakes his head. "No, no. None of that. Lehrgen told me everything about what to expect from you - so let me be clear." He gestures around. "This isn't somewhere where we strictly have anything to do. It's a time to relax, enjoy hobbies, catch-up with friends, de-stress... things like that. There are a few odd reports and paperwork here and there - but I'll be handling all of that for you, just so that you can make the most of your time here."

"That's very generous of you, Sir." So, the reports were all going through him. Every request, every grade, every evaluation, every slip-up - all in the hands of one person. Too early to tell if that was a good thing or not.

"It's what I'm best at, really." The sheepish laugh almost sounds genuine. "The last group to stay here couldn't follow instructions to save their lives, they're gone now and left me here all alone. I kept the signs that they made and left around the place. You can't really get lost anymore. I'll give you some time to settle in, but come by my office later - main entrance, left corridor and take the second door. I'll give you a tour. Make sure you lose the military uniform - you won't be needing that here. I prefer much more casual wear. It's just because of how hot it is, I'm sure you understand."

A slow stillness overtakes my body. "Yes, Sir."

He gives me a too-cheerful wave as he turns and leaves.

It takes twelve minutes to find a spare bedroom and claim it as mine. It takes ten to focus, and calm myself down. That man - he'd danced around the subject like an expert diplomat, but I finally knew his chosen method of torture. The way he planned to drive me to the brink of open rebellion, the point where I would rather leave the army than remain here for another second.

I close my eyes. I'd been too blind, hadn't realised that the opening move had already been played before I had even left the hospital. 'No need to bring anything' indeed! 'Just ask the requisition officer for new clothes or money' except that same officer was the same one tasked with kicking me out of the army. That same officer had, after explicitly admitting that Lehrgen had told him everything, smirked at me and told me to show up at his office tonight without wearing the only clothes that I had brought with me. The subtle threat when talking about the fact that the last group had already failed his demands and left the island.

They intended to use my status as a female against me. Sexual harassment until I was forced to leave.

'We'll be seeing a lot more of each other.' He almost seems to whisper in my mind. I'd almost missed that threat, I hadn't seen it for what it was at the time - I'd mistaken it for mere small talk. 'We'll have to get more comfortable with each other'. He'd been rubbing it in my face this entire time - and even with all of my experience, I'd just walked into his trap like an idiot. Not that I'm sure what I could even have done to avoid it, he'd phrased it all in deniable language - but trying to be clever and use wordplay against a superior officer never ended well. That attitude was one that got punished harshly in the army - with his lusty mindset already known, explicit permission to act however he pleased from the leaders of the nation and a complete lack of moral guidelines to keep the young man in check... it was pretty clear that he would take great pleasure in 'disciplining' me with impunity at any provocation. There were more than one ways that my ass could be hurting if I pushed my luck too far...

Well. It was possible that things might get to that point anyway if I couldn't head things off before then.

Best not think about that. I'd have to keep my eyes open. Think of a way forward.

But I had to get through today first. One by one, I let the pieces of my uniform slip to the floor. For an instant, I was tempted to try keeping at least my underwear - but the message had been clear, and without the chance to clean it all after the hours-long journey, the end result might be more embarrassing than the intended humiliation of appearing naked in front of my jailor. After a moment, they hit the floor too - leaving me completely exposed and defenceless.

Or, not quite. The Type-95 and Type-97's were notable around my neck, but just because they couldn't stay there - it didn't mean that I couldn't keep them. A quick spell sets an illusion around them and has them following me. After a moment, I set the Type-97 to record. I doubted I would ever get 'justice' for anything this guy subjected me to - but there was nothing wrong with a bit of record-keeping just in case. I'd have to clean out the storage regularly, keep only the most important parts of the day - but the possibility of gaining blackmail on this guy one day as an abusive pervert was too much to ignore.

Naked as the day I was born, with both invisible orbs trailing after me like miniature drones - I step out of my room and towards Leopold's office.

The game was on. If he thought he could score an easy win, scare me off that easily... he had underestimated me. Underestimated me drastically.

Time to show him what I was made of.