CHAPTER 26. PAX, SED QUO PRETIO?

  JULY 30, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, 6:37 PM. OUTSKIRTS OF THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL OF BERUN. UNOFFICIAL MEMORIAL GROUNDS FOR FALLEN MAGES OF THE 203RD ARIAL MAGE BATTALION.

  It had been seven months since the incident where they lost their commander and her wingmate. Wiess had been stunned when he felt the shockwave from the explosion, both magically and physically.

  After hearing their Colonel’s mayday transmission, they had pulled off of their own patrols and tried to assist her, but they had been too late.

  Wiess knew almost instantly what had occurred after feeling the power of that blast. The whole battalion had a healthy fear and respect for the miraculous power of the Type 95, but each of them also held a bit of resentment towards it as well. Whenever their commander was forced to use it, it made her act a bit…odd. Well, odder than usual he supposed.

  He could admit out loud that he held no small amount of fear towards his commander, the Colonel was a terror, but when she used the Type 95 heavily… that was when he felt truly terrified and actually feared for his life. It was only in those moments when he could see where Brigadier General Lergen was coming from.

  After the blast command and just about everyone else had been confused. It had taken days, Days! Before command allowed an official investigation. After which every member of the Kampfgruppe had been gag ordered, and the mages had been recalled for debriefing and questioning.

  General Zettour, had questioned him personally, and Weiss had been shocked when the man had laughed in his face and objectively refused to accept the truth. That their little miracle child was gone… dead. Wiess had tried multiple times to explain the sheer scale of the blast, and complete lack of any remains, but the general refused to listen and ordered him out of his office.

  Wiess passed a horrified and guilt-stricken Max on his way out.

  What followed was weeks of further questioning and investigations of the readings taken from their computation orbs.

  At one-point Grantz and Koenig, had to physically restrain him, to prevent him spattering Dr Schugel’s annoying face across the room as he chastised their fallen commander for her actions in, “foolishly destroying a holy relic of the Lord.”

  If anything good had come from all this, it had been the cease fire and preliminary negotiations that had begun shortly after the blast. Every nation involved in the war and many not so, had contacted the Empire asking questions about the blast.

  Wiess had read in the papers that mana readings had been detected as far away as New Almsterdame in the Unified States.

  Apparently, their enemies were all terrified that the Empire had developed a new ‘super weapon,’ and had thus sued for peace. At least until they figured out what was going on. Little did they know that the whole thing had very much been a one-time tragedy, and far from having a new super weapon, the Empire had just lost one.

  The information being secretly spread by the Empire was pure propaganda. They were calling it the V 5.9 Project. The next advancement in the V series of Mage Guided Missile. This last one requiring a skilled mage to sacrifice their life to activate the final device at its target location. It was how the Empire was explaining their lack of further testing or use of the weapon unless pushed. However, they threatened that if they were pushed, they could easily wipe Londinium off the map at the cost of just one suicidal strike.

  It was all lies and Wiess just hoped no one found out long enough for the populace of each nation to start enjoying peace enough to come to their senses and realize they couldn’t keep fighting.

  Meanwhile they all had to pretend that their commander and fellow officer weren’t dead and were forbidden from giving them a burial ceremony. Even poor Serebryakov’s family had yet to be notified of her demise. Wiess still had Visha’s final letter that he was supposed to give to them in case she died, locked away with all the others in the battalions safe.

  Laying his hand on the helmeted rifle stabbed into the ground in front of him. He looked up to the sky and spoke out loud.

  “I’m taking care of the men Colonel. They’re eating well now and safe, the fighting seems to have stopped for now, and it looks like it will last. I am making sure Grantz doesn’t overdrink and get into any trouble. I worry about that one, he likes the bottle a little too much for his age, but I suppose that’s your fault. This is all your fault. Why’d you do it! Why’d you leave us. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! We were all going to make it out alive, remember. You told us time and time again to prioritize our safety and lives over the mission. You called us difficult to replace, but did you ever stop to think how IRREPLACEABLE YOU WERE!

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  DU VERDAMMTES ARSCHLOCH, WARUM NUR!

  Falling to his knees, Wiess gripped two handfuls of the grassy earth, digging his fingers into the soil. Raising his head, he was now at eye level with the helmet resting on the butt of the rifle. His mind couldn’t help but recognize that it was about the same height as his fallen commander.

  Ripping up the grass in his rage, he threw both fistfuls of grass and soil into the fading evening sky. Allowing himself to flop backwards onto his ass, he rested and took a few calming breaths. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a bottle of wine that had been gifted to him by the very woman he was now mourning.

  Popping the cork, he poured a generous portion out for his two comrades.

  “I was saving this bottle for when you finally came of age, or for when the war ended and we could get away with letting you sneakily drink a bit, whichever came first. Here Colonel, drink up. You too Visha, I’ll give you a bit more, you always could hold your drink.

  Wiess took a swig himself, the acidic floral taste mixing with the salt of his tears.

  “Let me get some of that.”

  “Ah, Neumann, I didn’t know you were here, haven’t seen you in a while, I thought you were still on leave?”

  “I just got back, Grantz told me where to find you, had to slap him awake to get it out of him though. That man is not taking it so well, a little too attached to the bottle, we might need to do something about that.”

  “I, I know I was just telling the Colonel about it, I wonder how she would tell me to handle it?”

  “Probably just get him super drunk and then launch artillery at him for three days straight, while he’s hungover.”

  “Yeah probably. Here help me up.”

  Reaching a hand down Neumann pulled him back up to a standing position. Dusting off his pants Wiess turned back to the memorials, going quiet.

  “Do you think she would be proud… of us… of everything her death has accomplished.”

  Wiess asked, his voice soft as a whispered breeze.

  “I think…She would be happy, she always worried about what the world would look like after the war, and what the other nations would do to the homeland. Now those predictions didn’t happen. The people, the economy, they’re slowly starting to recover, and I think that more than anything would have made her pleased. The world she gifted us is one where her men don’t have to struggle just to eat, or haul marks around by the wheelbarrow just to buy a loaf of bread. Plus, we’re not communists either, so you know she’s laughing in heaven about that.”

  Neumann chuckled a bit at his own joke before he continued.

  “Yeah. She really was a great commander wasn’t she, we almost all made it through. Forty-eight men in the Battalion to start, one incapacitated by sickness on the Rhine. Ten lost in the North Sea, four dead, six seriously wounded. It brought the total from forty-eight to fifty-nine if you add in the replacements. Fifty-nine men she had trained flown with, cared for and protected. The 203rd has only ever had fifty-nine souls serve on its roster in total, and of that number fifty-three still draw breath. An unprecedented and unheard-of survival rate for any mage battalion the world over.

  “So yeah, I think she would be proud of what she accomplished, but not as proud as I am to have served under her.”

  “Amen to that brother.”

  “What do you think she’s getting up to now, Sir?

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure the good Lord took care of her, and you know for sure that Serebryakov’s managed to somehow stick by her side, so wherever she is, she’s not alone and has her back covered.”

  Wiess smiled as he took the bottle back and took another swig. Allowing Neumann a chance to speak.

  “I think your right. Well, wherever they are, I hope they’re relaxing and enjoying some peace for once. I pity the fool who picks a fight with either of those two and disturbs their well-earned rest.”

  “Yeah…

  Let’s head back.”

  Weiss bowed his head and said a little prayer for his comrades’ souls. Patting the helmets one last time before turning around to head back to base. But one final thought passed through his head as he left. Something that Neumann had said made him chuckle a little as he ruminated on his words.

  As if anyone in this world would be foolish enough to pick a fight with the Devil of the Rhine.

  ~

  JANUARY 23RD, 2014. IN A DILAPIDATED BACK ROOM OF A RUNDOWN BAR IN TOKYO JAPAN.

  Yawarakame Dontō furiously threw the beer bottle against the wall after reading the message he had just received from one of his so-called brothers. Lay low, don’t do anything stupid, we can’t afford to draw attention now. Ass wipes, all of them. His actual brother lay dead at the hands of some unknown shit head, and he was expected to lay low?

  Dontō had seen the news and had been able to find unedited photos of the bodies. Somebody had caved in the back of his brother’s skull with a bat, and he wasn’t going to just lay low and let this insult slide. No, if the boss and the rest of the boys wouldn’t help him, then he would just have to find the killer or killers on his own. And when he did, he would make sure they suffered for what they had done to his brother.

  Standing up and running a hand through his greasy hair, Dontō didn’t know where to start. He had heard no rumors or any news of anyone taking credit for the hit. Even the police seemed stumped by which rival gang had hit theirs. It was one of the reasons the boss was taking things so slowly and being so cautious. They were all worried that there was something more at play here since no group had stepped forward.

  But there was one possible lead he could follow. Usako had been there. That old whore had been busted for illegal prostitution a number of times already and she always came crawling back once the cops let her out. She would know what went down that night.

  Now, all Dontō had to do was wait until she turned up again and track her down.

  Then…Then he would get some answers.

  ~ End of Book One ~

  CHAPTER 26. Glossary

  PAX, SED QUO PRETIO?

  "PAX, SED QUO PRETIO?" is Latin for "Peace, but at what price?".

  This phrase is a critical, often rhetorical, question that challenges the cost or consequences of achieving a state of peace.

  DU VERDAMMTES ARSCHLOCH, WARUM NUR!

  YOU DAMN ASSHOLE, WHY?!