pirated stuff

"Where is Argent Silver?" President Kurt von Rudensdorf grumbled like a storm, chomping on his cigar like a stick made of salt. His fury was solely directed at his biggest rival and critic, Chancellor Heinrich Berning. "Where is my champion?"

It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew why Degurechaff's face was absent in the Reichstag, Reich Chancellery, Presidential Palace, or anywhere else, but that didn't mean the Conservative Bloc liked it. Excluding the one person who could reach across both aisles to pass the necessary reforms has got to be Berning's most brilliant idea yet.

The power imbalance could not be more unsustainable: Degurechaff's expulsion eliminated any chance of reconciliation with the conservatives and although the Progressives gained the largest seats in the Reichstag - enough to form a majority government - it was already hemorrhaging support when its deputies began to defect towards the opposition. Their power base was built on a pile of sand over a sinkhole: the promise of the Argent Silver in public office.

The Communists won 24% of the National Vote while the National Vanguardists won 22% of the popular vote. If the Progressive Bloc couldn't form a majority government with the moderate right, it would have to be with either one of these extremist parties. Both of them were still hellbent on leading a revolution to overthrow the Republic and since the Ace of Aces was no longer present, they might just be brave enough to do that.

Meanwhile, the Fascist National Germanian Volkist Party obtained 8% of the vote. Altogether, the extremists carved a large margin in the Reichstag for themselves although the Fascist parties like the Volkist, led by Ludwig-Richter, moved to join the Conservative opposition.

"She is a Fascist whore and an enemy of Germania." Berning growled, "She will not be participating in our coalition, not while I'm here."

It was a good thing this conversation was not taking place in the Reichstag, a riot would have broken out, but this was supposed to be a meeting between the President, Chancellor, and cabinet members discussing matters of state such as reparations and a new budget. Instead, it only reinforced the ideological divide between pro-Degurechaff and anti-Degurechaff members; Conservatives and Leftists like borders on a map.

What Rudensdorf wouldn't give for his golden child to lead a putsch to overthrow his own government…

He never liked the idea of a Republic anyway and he liked it even less now that she had embarked on some foolish errand in Yugoslavia as if she was Berning's little maid.

The President-elect stuck a cigar back in his mouth to prevent his tongue from speaking something foul in response to Degurechaff's honor being insulted. Perhaps Rudensdorf should swallow his pride for once and concede to Berning to allow for a stable regime.

Germania was already suffering an economic and moral crisis, it could do well not to suffer a political one as well. He is the president, after all, entrusted to ensure a stable government and maintain the Constitution. Tempting as it was to dismiss the Reichstag and call for new elections, simple calculus dictated that nothing substantial would change without Degurechaff involved.

She was the only politician universally beloved and unspoiled by the rot set in.

And yet.

And yet…

Rudensdorf's mind drifted back to the era when he ruled the Empire, taking the reins of control away from the incompetent Kaiser and the dysfunctional Reichstag. The entire time, Heinrich Berning was his greatest naysayer; if he had shut up and stopped blocking the necessary legislation to uplift the war effort, Trianofication would never have happened.

If a ruling by decree would silence Zentrum and the Social Democrats, he might just do that, as distasteful it may be having to start his term in office by declaring an emergency…

"Enemy of Germania?" The President grumbled, "Stop treating Degurechaff like she is your private mirror."

"Mirror?!" The Chancellor was quite indignant, "She manipulated the public into wrecking the livelihoods of the Judean populace -"

"Oh great…enough about the Judeans. I am tired of hearing about their nonsensical plight! They have the money. They can always rebuild. Let's not forget that Judeans had plotted to assassinate her in Konigsberg by the Social Democrats!"

"That assassination was done by a group of unknown assailants that had nothing to do with Herimann or Erbel. Unknown suspects who happened to be Judeans. It was not a coincidence! Stop perpetuating that myth!"

"Then she has done nothing wrong to warrant being exiled to Yugoslavia."

"She assisted a putsch of a sister republic! Why, in Daneland, she flirted with the fascists there! And it is not exile, it is a voluntary departure from future participation in politics."

"That is what exile is!"

"No, it isn't! You're enabling her."

"Enabling her? We had agreed to make her part of our new government!"

"Circumstances had changed. It would be a disgrace to my morals and my party to allow her to participate."

"How democratic of you to prevent her representation." Rudensdorf fumed.

"She is dangerous." Berning retorted. "And was that an attempt at humor?"

"She is necessary."

"She is a criminal."

"She is a hero."

"Can I please interrupt?" The new Minister of Finance, Heimal Schlage, attempted to diffuse the bickering. "I understand that we all held high expectations of the November election but can we please move past Degurechaff and focus on the present?"

"There will be no further cooperation as long as the Argent Silver is absent." Rudensdorf bellowed, blowing massive smoke rings into the air. "That was the deal and it will not change."

"Herr President," Schlage implored the former dictator. "Please! Be reasonable."

"Reasonable? REASONABLE?" He roared, "I gave you my time, my money, and my integrity to promote your stupid loans as agreed upon yet you could not fulfill your end of the bargain! By all rights, I should cash in my government bonds and get my Reichmarks back…"

"Let's not resort to that…" Schlage chuckled nervously.

"Herr President." Chancellor Berning spoke up once more after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "What will it take for us to stand united?"

"Degurechaff must return." He answered.

"Will you grant her a pardon if she does?"

"The way I see it, she had committed no crimes against Germania or its people. The November Boycott was a natural response to the insidious plot that took place in Konigsberg."

"It is a crime!" Berning screamed.

"How ironic. When a liberal is doing a boycott, he is protesting but when a conservative is doing a boycott, it is oppression." Rudensdorf grumbled.

"This - this…stop making yourself the victim here! You're the tyrant here!"

"Tyrant? I have passed no oppressive laws here."

"It's because neither of us can get any legislation done…not without a coalition! We are losing the mandate at this very moment."

"And that is a problem we'll take to our graves." The President puffed his cigar.

"And you are content letting this Republic burn to the ground just because you don't have that blonde bitch by your side?" The Chancellor fumed.

"Just as you are content letting this Republic fall into ruin because you can't stand the sight of one little girl."

Elena was smiling.

It sent a shiver up my spine.

Her optimism and growing radiance reminded me too much of Viktoriya considering how deep in the mud Freikorp Degurechaff is with the Republic. Too much goodwill has been torn to shreds between my unit and the Progressive Bloc; only by continuing to be the bulwark against the revolutionaries would they tolerate the legality of my paramilitary organization. I can only hope Weiss sticks to the agenda during my trip to the South.

"My dear leader…" she sang, "I know you have a train to catch but I wanted to bring awareness to the reorganization of the Freikorps. I have a proposal that might be of interest to you…"

"Could you wait until I return?" I huffed. She just had to bring this up now…

"This is rather important. It's about Konigsberg…"

"What about it?"

"I believe it would be extremely valuable if you bring a small group of bodyguards to deter any further assailants."

"Really?" I smirked.

I must admit…I am intrigued.

"Not to underestimate your strength, Argent Silver, but having to fight every thug and petty criminal constantly would surely be exhausting. You won't be able to perform the important tasks! Bodyguards will serve as deterrence and show your enemies that you are not vulnerable." She bowed before pulling out a small pamphlet.

"Say I agree, what do you propose we call this subunit in the Freikorps?" I inquired before freezing in place what I saw on the paper.

"Protection Squadron." Elena answered.

The SS.

"Absolutely not."

I brushed past her, shoving the paper back into her hands; it sent the brunette spiraling into a panic flurry.

"But-but…why? It's dangerous to be unaccompanied considering the growing violence."

"I don't disagree with your reasons. It's the name that disturbs me."

"Why?" she inquired, "What's wrong with the name? It is perfectly mundane and ordinary."

I stopped in my tracks and sucked in a deep breath. This must be like going back in time to 1941 to tell the Emperor of the atomic bombs America would drop on Japan in 1945. Elena simply could not comprehend how those two letters would inspire terror in Europe and the world at large. It would be useless trying to explain it to her when I only know the bare minimum.

"Yes…that's…the problem." I turn around to speak to her. "It is…mundane. I expected something more…creative from you."

"Creative?" Elena repeated, her eyebrow raised in skepticism. "What do you mean?"

"Anything. Just not 'Protection Squadron.'"

"I see…" she nodded slowly. "So would you consent to the formation of the bodyguard unit if given a different name?"

I simply stared at her, wondering how much of this was already preplanned. Quite frankly, bodyguards would be extremely helpful in my situation. I can't bring Freikorps members everywhere I go, especially when it is needed here in Germania. However, I am in no rush to have it formed immediately considering I could rely on Lergen's contacts and allies in Yugoslavia for protection. In addition, having bodyguards would ruin my ability to go incognito whenever the need arises. It is rather beneficial that whenever the public sees a celebrity outside, they automatically assume it's a lookalike.

"I do." I spelled it out for her, "But considering my status, I prefer it would be comprised of mages first. Weiss must lead this bodyguard unit and oversee its training. If not Weiss then, Konig, or Neumann would do."

I should not forget about Lergen's warning about Elena, especially when she frowned ever so slightly. Either of the three men should be sufficient enough to keep her in check.

"And Elena?"

"Yes, commander?"

"When I get back, there are a couple of things we must address together…"

"Of course, I will eagerly await your return."

"And, there is also a favor I would like to ask you," I said softly. "There is a problem with Alan Foerster I would like you to take care of."

Upon hearing his name, Muller offered a razor thin smile before pulling out a small journal to write down in. Her eagerness had given me a brief pause. I shouldn't indulge her and yet, despite my desire to give Foerster an earful of the violence he propagated, the damage is already done. There is no point in trying to lecture a shrapnel bomb. All I could do was to clean up the mess.

"Tell him that I am disappointed and furious that he broke his promise to me - I don't care how you say it, just tell him - and afterward, deal with Foerster however you see fit. But nothing more."

"Consider it done, commander."

With my funding cut off, I could no longer afford the luxuries of travel and although I acquired a small war chest due to my service to Magyarozag and Daneland, I still needed to be frugal in these dark times. It was another wound to my pride though I was too tired and bitter to curse Being X for this misfortune. Everything was going so well…why did it all have to fall apart?

December will be depressing this year. Again. If what Lergen told me was true, children in Central Europe had not experienced a happy Christmas since birth. At least the people were quick to move on with their lives though, instead of grumbling about Judeans, the public grumbled about the Progressives breaking their main electoral promise: removing my face from the new government. Progress achieved, I suppose? It was a small vindication for me that everyone else seemed to agree that I was the mascot and main incentive in buying into the Progressive Coalition.

Other than a few odd looks directed at me by a dozen beggars, veterans from the Great War, and a few youths and their parents, my presence was undisturbed during my time at the train station. The ticket agent, however, with a young boyish face with hair as gold as wheat and eyes as blue as the sea, looked at me with discerning eyes when I purchased a seat in third class. What I expected was a spot in a more humble location near the rear of the train but instead, I was given a first-class ticket.

A first-class ticket to Beograd with a special stop at Wien.

I was slightly confused but before I could speak up, he merely offered a coyish smile.

"It is the finest car in the company. I hope you will find its services nothing short of luxurious…Argent Silver." He whispered, "Just don't tell my boss. He is a filthy Socialist."

"How do you know I am not an imposter?" I inquired.

"Your clothing is too drab, your walk is too rigid and the Argent Silver is the only living recipient to receive the Silver Wings Assault Medal." He answered playfully. He pointed at my chest where the medal was pinned. "You should take better care of it, you don't want anyone to assume it is fake, assuming they are stupid enough to think it is fake."

"Who are you?" I narrowed my eyes at the ticket master.

"Just a humble nationalist…I served in the Imperial Army too, Argent Silver. Germania For All..." he quietly remarked before adopting a straight face. "NEXT!"

I left the young man to wait at the platform, making sure I stood well away from the edge, while I subconsciously twirled my war medal between my fingers. Again, odd stares and hushed voices surrounded me, and although I tried my hardest to ignore them, I could not drown out their words. How nice would it be to have headphones blasting music into my ears right now…

My mind eventually drifted back to Viktoriya, wondering what she was doing now. I hope she has already begun the process of making amends, giving up these delusions of hers, and finding peace in her life.

You always look for the best in everyone and everything.

Pilsud would be laughing his ass off right now if it weren't for the fact that he also had to deal with the paranoia of the November Boycott spreading into Pullska currently, just like how it is spreading into the other post-Imperial states like wildfire or the Black Plague.

Magyarozag called for aid and it was you, not the Francois, who arrived.

I can see why your face is on every poster in every city.

I love you…I would do anything for you.

You have my sword, my loyalty, and my life.

That is a mistake, Degurechaff. Who is protecting you?

GO. HOME.

Thankfully, the train arrived in time to prevent my thoughts from clouding my mind. The train conductor gave me the odd stink eye before breaking into a shallow smile and directing me to an empty train car as if I had reserved the entire area for myself. It was just me, my thoughts, and the various servants at my every beck and call.

During the journey, I dined like the Emperor, surrounded by the richest food and the most delicate wine and ciders, but I never felt so poor. It was a funny feeling since this is exactly why I joined the Imperial Military in the first place: to get out of destitution and live surrounded by comfort and plentitude. This was but a small taste of that dream though I never imagined it to be so lonely.

Even the coffee, despite having the finest beans, grew to have a bland taste in my mouth.

"What is so special about this place?" Visha asked with mild annoyance, trailing behind Father Adelheid like a lost puppy. Although her arm healed nicely thanks to his treatment, her head was still wrapped in a bandage. A testament to her strength and dedication to bashing her brain out against another brick wall. Self-flagellation in the true Russy manner.

He brought her along to join him on a pilgrimage and she initially envisioned a lengthy trip to Rome or whatever city the Lutherians considered holy. Visha had not expected a random sanctuary in a random area of Berun. Its aged statues and engravings indicated its Papalist affiliation though the area surrounding it could use a lumberjack.

"It's the orphanage." The technocratic theologian turned to smile brightly at the veteran.

"The?"

"This is where Tanya von Degurechaff came from. This is where it all started."

Bewilderment struck her like an artillery barrage as the brunette looked at the orphanage with newfound respect and awe. It was a really silly feeling. Visha felt like a bumbling older sister to Tanya ever since she laid eyes on the preteen and witnessed her age into a beautiful young woman. To think of Degurechaff as small as a baby, it was more believable that she was sent directly from Heaven like an angel considering the knowledge and wisdom that came out of her mouth than be one of the countless poor souls growing up without a parent's love.

Visha's hands drifted from branch to branch as if the trees were just waiting to tell their story watching the little blonde girl waddling about the courtyard or staring into the clouds behind windows. She offered to stay outside, after all, she is from the Orthodox Church and Papalists were heretics. Tolerated heretics but heretics nonetheless in the eyes of the Grand Patriarch.

But Father Adelheid insisted on joining him to meet the Papalist nuns though they weren't enthusiastic about seeing his face.

"We're not supposed to talk to you, Mr. von Schugel." The elderly nun, Sister Margaret, spoke in a foreboding tone. "You've been excommunicated."

"Excommunicated?" The veteran was confused, looking to the old man for an explanation.

"He has been branded a heretic and an apostate." The nun quickly explained.

"Is it because he asked too many questions?" Visha turned to face Sister Margaret.

"It is because I didn't like their answers." Father Adelheid answered, his words unwavering. He glared at the nun with unflinching eyes. "The Church failed to provide clarity for the crisis of our age. I have come here searching for the truth and only the truth. I must know of Saint Tanya von Degurchaff."

Saint Tanya? As in the Patron Saint of the Empire?

Visha enjoyed hearing the title far more than she initially realized.

A war raged between the exile and the nun, staring intensely at each other with silent thoughts thrown at each other. But before long, Sister Margaret conceded and allowed them entry. Even with the sudden revelation, Visha could not understand what secrets this orphanage could hold concerning her hero.

From what the nun told them, Tanya was simply dropped off in a basket at night. No witness. No description of the carrier. Only a small letter bearing the name "Tanya Degurechaff." No matter how fiercely Father Adelheid interrogated the staff, no one could recall anything extraordinary that occurred the night of Tanya's arrival. No miracles. No visions, No indication of divine intervention.

Excavating their drawers and cabinets brought nothing new and Father Adelheid eventually left the building defeated but not discouraged. Visha, however, felt only confusion. What was he looking for? Evidence of Tanya's divinity? As insane as she was, even the White Russy knew that the Major was no relative to Jesus Christ. Then again, she wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

The old priest and the veteran retreated to a small covenant that served as their haven. The revelation of Father Adelheid's expulsion provided Visha the explanation as to why his church experienced low attendance if it was lucky to gain any attraction at all, save for a few scientists, engineers, and other assorted intellectuals who came to visit Schugel. They preached about numbers, equations, and new fields of science and psychology that she had no hope of ever understanding.

Visha never knew the inner workings of a Papal Church but she was not ignorant of the concept of Christian heresies. Every village in the Russy Empire had one, but it struck her as extremely odd that Father Adelheid was excommunicated.

During the short time she spent with him, she already deduced that he was the anti-Rasputin. He did not preach with fire in his belly or steel in his voice. He did not chase after young women nor seem to indulge in fame or luxuries. Even his unapologetic scorn for atheists and secularists did not seem to inspire his voice to grow as loud as a tiger's roar. While his preaching was a breath of fresh air compared to her usual experience with sermons, Father Adelheid's application of numbers, scientific theory, and physics was depressing and off-putting to hear.

Every miracle, every act of God, every vision of Heaven, Hell, and the very Fate of Humanity were mere natural phenomena to be dissected and analyzed like they were doctors tearing apart a human cadaver in a lab study. The former Development Chief Engineer knew the scripture well, far better than the Orthodox priests she knew of, and spoke in a manner far easier to understand and contemplate even if his heretical manifesto was a Frankenstein's monster of a bible. Instead of hope and joy, his sermons only gave her a greater sense of unworthiness when the mystical elements of God were removed entirely.

Schugel's God is an Engineer.

His God is a Physicist.

His God is a Chemist.

His God is a Biologist.

His God is a Machinist and Craftsman.

His God was as omnipotent and omnipresent as a pencil and a sheet of white paper.

"Why is it so important to know the Major's parents?" Visha inquired, taking a sip of cold water with the priest. She noticed that the kitchen they were in lacked a knife storage block. It was probably for the best he got rid of it. For her sake. "They abandoned her."

"It's not about her parents being alive or not." He answered gruffly, stirring the ice cubes in his cup absentmindedly, as he pondered on a great big book of European names and languages. "It's about what they represent. Meeting either of them would cut the long journey short."

"What do you mean?"

"Her name, Degurechaff, does it sound familiar to you?"

"I don't know anyone else if that's what you're referring to." She answered.

"No. I meant the name itself." Father Adelheid hastily shook his head as he pointed an old but sturdy finger at a page. "Degurechaff… It's Slavic in origin. Tanya von Degurechaff could be a Slav."

That forced the cold water out of Visha's mouth as she nearly choked in disbelief much to the scientist's annoyance.

"No…that can't be right." She spluttered. "That can't be true."

"Why not? Her surname is not linked to traditional Germanic. There is a strong indication of her Slavic roots." Schugel looked at her with curious eyes.

"She is… too smart to be a Slav." The veteran looked downcast at her own words as she spoke aloud. "Too beautiful to be a Slav..."

Tanya von Degurechaff was as Germanian as the River Rhine. Her hair is as blonde as the wheat in Kieva with eyes as blue as the sky itself. Her unparalleled intelligence could not be found in a Slav, only in a Germanian. The polygenism evolutionists deemed it so; and published it in their essays, manuscripts, books, and articles for the last 200 years.

Even the Americans were very interested in this field of study, being its greatest practitioners.

In the natural order of Europe, they stated, the Germanic people were the highest form of man, the pinnacle of knowledge and aesthetics, while the Western Europeans like the Frankish were second rate; Southern Europeans were middling whereas the Slavic people were placed on the lower end of the natural hierarchy. They were ranked higher than the Africans and the Gipsies but lower than the Asians and the Judeans. It was the responsibility and moral obligation of the Germanic race to uplift the ignorant savages into becoming equal inheritors of Europe.

Oh, how Visha was jealous of her Judean classmates for receiving higher praise than her in school - especially when they had to review the latest racial study. That it was a privilege that she was allowed to live in the Empire.

The backwardness of the Russy Tzardom, the lack of modernization in the towns and villages, and the Bolshevik Revolution were declared evidence of racial inferiority and intellectual regression of the Slavic people; untouched by Western Enlightenment since the Mongol Conquest of Eastern Europe. These "race" scientists declared that inbreeding with Asianic hordes prevented the Slavs from achieving equal status among the Germanic race like its Western cousins: the Pullskans and the Bohemians.

Hell, the reign of Katarina the Great demonstrated that it took a Germanian to lead the Russy nation into becoming a great power. That foreign leadership was necessary to bring the Enlightenment to the savage East.

If it was revealed that Tanya von Degurechaff was indeed a Slav, it would turn the European racial hierarchy upon its head. An Easterner leading the Germania…leading the Empire. She would no longer feel embarrassed reading great Russy works such as Tolstoi and Gannibal outside of RNOD circles.

Visha clutched at her head, feeling a new wave of pain and guilt erupting across her brain. She immediately evacuated the room to retreat to her new bedroom, falling back into the routine of sleeping and waking up not to see Tanya's face in the hallways or offices. Even when fog consumed her mind, Visha overhead Father Adelheid muttering short prayers to the Lord, pleading for forgiveness and healing.

Rhiner Neumann began to appreciate the mundanity of party conferences and bureaucratic reorganization. Though he never had a mind for pencil-pushing paperwork, the change of environment away from the Rhinish mud, and the concrete jungle warfare in the cities was like a well-needed vacation. A chance to calm his nerves and indulge in food and spirits. It was a shame he couldn't bring his fiance to the office but then again, combining love and business was seldom successful.

Given his assignment was at the metaphoric crossroads where the Lutzbuergers and Rohrites converge to battle for influence, he spent every day in the last couple of months smashing the skulls of revolutionaries with his fists and the butt of his rifle. It was one thing to kill Francois; it was another to kill a fellow Germanian. But Neumann is nothing but a loyal and dutiful soldier of the Empire. Germanian or not, he killed Communists and National Vanguardists and will continue killing them until the end of time itself if need be.

Killing their children during house raids, however, felt different. Very different. He always had a soft spot for kids, given his aspirations for fatherhood. But it would be folly to ignore the lesson learned in Arene: an enemy you let go of is an enemy that will return. Who's to say they won't grow up to become future Communists and National Vanguardists to kill him? To kill his future wife and child? Assuming they don't kill each other first. Like it or not, their children and their children's children will take up arms to destroy Germania and its history. It was a frightful thought that he could not humor any longer.

Like the fairy tale stories he read during childhood, the cycle of retribution must end at the family line. Such risks cannot be left to chance; everything has to be accounted for, one way or another.

"Neumann? Helloooo…" Weiss called out to the veteran from across the table, "Are you with us?"

"Have you been drinking recently?" Elena Muller inquired.

"If not, it's time you start doing it again." Konig hummed.

"Do you need to go to the washroom?" Heydryck asked calmly.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just need a beer." Neumann waved his hand, "Just wondering where we go from here now that the Major is gone. We just accomplished so much so recently - among other errands."

"Oh, yes." Heydryck nodded before glancing at Alan Lichten, "We all have accomplished other errands."

It was strange seeing Lichten so melancholic. In the brief time Neumann had met the man, the Judean was the most optimistic man in Central Europe. But reality has a nasty habit of breaking a man down into a small, weeping mess. The veteran took no pleasure in the boycott but Neumann didn't have the intelligence and wisdom of the Major to propose a better reaction to the Konigsberg Plot.

In addition, it was also equally strange not to see Visha present. It seems their inner group was shrinking despite the recent pool of fresh talent that Weiss promoted or brought over.

Like Weiss, Neumann voted for the Germanian Democratic Party, and like Weiss, his disappointment was immeasurable when it was announced that the Major was expelled from Reichstag politics. It was somewhat comforting to see the public reaction was anything but positive. Even Rohr seemed to think of the Major's expulsion as "cowardly" and "dishonest." The only party that seemed to openly support her removal was the Kozis and their treacherous leader. How unsurprising.

"Before we proceed with the main reason I asked you all the come here today," Weiss began, laying out several newspapers and a secret letter signed by Minister Lergen himself. Even Elena Muller was in grumbling disbelief when she considered the contents. "Heydryck, Lichten, what is the status in the West? How are the Judean militias faring against the Communists?"

Lichten turned his head to glare at the blonde giant who merely nodded in quiet approval before facing the group to speak.

"Bad. It has gone bad." He replied with his thick Magyar accent. "Morale has plummeted. Desertions everywhere. The men and boys want to go home to protect their families in the east - by east I mean here. We were simply outmatched and outgunned. The Cossacks did not help matters; they accused us of treachery several times over. Even attacked us on several occasions."

"He is not exaggerating," Heydryck spoke up, sounding equally exhausted. "We are not dealing with a monolith here. There were Judean conservatives, Judean liberals, Judean progressives, Judean monarchists, Judean communists, and Judean and half-Judeans in Rohr's Stormtroopers for reasons God only knows. It is extremely difficult for me to form a cohesive front to rally our allies behind Degurechaff's banner upon hearing the news of the Konigsberg Incident and seeing the actions of the November Boycott."

"If Argent Silver was in the west with us, it would have been a much simpler affair," Lichten said ruefully. "Yes, we are fighting for our homes, for our families, for our liberty and Germania, but what does that look like? I hate having to kill my brothers and sisters but I cannot let them bring Bolshevik tyranny to the Republic. To me, it seems we stand alone. That we have no true friends."

"You're right…we have not been fair to you." Konig huffed, looking at Lichten with sympathy before glaring harshly at Elena. "We should not confuse future friends with potential enemies. Especially with our fellow countrymen."

"Unfortunately," Weiss announced, "That seems to be the case for everyone here. The Reichstag calls - demands - for Freikorps Degurechaff to be disbanded."

Neumann shook out of his thoughts in an instant, shocked and confused that this was the first bill that the Progressive Bloc sought to pass. Elena was deep in vengeful contemplation, Weiss was as grumpy as a toad in a dried pond, Konig simply stared into space, Heydryck was struck dumbfounded while Lichten fell deeper into despair. The newspapers were passed around and they all spoke of the same reality.

The bill was called the "Law Against Combat Groups" which explicitly sought to formally demobilize the Freikorps that operated in the Republic through methods that banned future funding and equipment being granted to the Freikorps whether or not the sources were foreign or domestic. Any Freikorps, militia, or paramilitary organization that can or has organized armed demonstrations in public space, is suspected of overthrowing the state, or threatened the territorial integrity of the Republic will be branded illegal and its members punished with prison sentences.

Even if the conservatives and the reactionaries reject this bill, the Progressive Coalition has just enough weight to force it through. But given that the Communist Bloc has recently announced their intentions to throw their full support for this bill, it will surely pass in the Reichstag.

At first glance, the bill would also apply to the Communist Spartakus Front but the Reds will simply spin its activity as union strikes and worker protests. Neumann smirked bitterly. Damnable Kozis and their weasel words…

As for Rohr, given his army of Brownshirts reaching 3 million members or more by New Year's Day, he won't disband. Not at all. Perhaps that's why the Progressives would be willing to grant an exception for the Kozis. Ideologically, there is no distinction between the National Vanguard and the Communist Party except for the topic of Judeo-Capitalism and Rohr's Germanian nationalism and his obsession with putting every Judean in front of a firing squad.

"And the letter from the Minister of Defense?" Heydryck broke the silence.

"Let's see…" Weiss muttered as he opened up the envelope to peer into its contents, "Our friend Lergen has some contacts among the Progressives that revealed to him secret talks between the Coalition and the Communists over our commander - oh…Fuck."

"Fuck?" Konig repeated, looking slightly confused at his friend.

"Fuck." Weiss nodded, before passing the letter off to Elena Muller.

She turned pale as a ghost while her face was contorted in a flurry of emotions while Heydryck moved to grab the paper. He too was quickly struck with utter incredulity. When it was finally Neumann's turn to see, the veteran found himself with a similar expression.

There were a few discussions, and contemplations, of placing an arrest warrant for Tanya von Degurechaff upon her return.

For crimes of treason against the Republic of Germania.

To make matters worse, Lergen's contacts also heard rumors, strong rumors, that she would be extradited to Parisee for war crime tribunals. A peace offering to the victorious Allied Powers as tribute. An act of submission…

"We have to overthrow the Republic!" Neumann found himself standing up from his seat. "We need to overthrow it NOW! Francois soldiers and their politicians will be raping her from prison into an early grave…"

"We can't!" Elena Muller shouted back before Weiss had a chance to reply. "We need Degurechaff present, right here and now, to allow our putsch to be legitimate. Launching it now will only label us as terrorists."

"At the very least, we need to let the public know that the Reichstag is plotting."

"The reputation of the Republic is already at its lowest point." Heydryck pointed out. "It will not get any worse. Any exposure would be a redundancy."

"Forget overthrowing the government, what about the Freikorps?!" Koenig questioned loudly, "What are we to do?"

No more funding. No more armaments. Shipments from the Czech-Slovak State will surely ground to a complete halt by January.

"I don't understand." Lichten mumbled, "Why are they doing this to her? Don't they know she still wants to collaborate with them?"

It makes little sense to Neumann as well. Demobilizing the Freikorps, fascist or not, in the face of Communist or National Vanguard insurrection is a recipe for disaster. It is almost as if the Progressives were trying to destroy their reputation by focusing their efforts on denouncing the Argent Silver instead of these extremists. For the past year, Degurechaff had done nothing but provide valuable aid to strengthen the democratic process and bring legitimacy to the new Republic. She brought unity, progress, and a flicker of hope to the nation when it needed them the most despite her hasty departure to Yugoslavia.

It is almost as if she knew…

That the world will see that the Republic needed Degurechaff more than Degurechaff needed the Republic.

"Yes, it is unfortunate that Freikorps is to be disbanded but I believe I have a solution to our new worries." Elena Muller suggested, glaring sarcastically at Weiss, "If you allow me…"

"Go right ahead," Weiss grumbled.

"We do have a loophole we could exploit…I assume Weiss has already alerted you all about the bodyguard program?"

A round of murmurs and nodding heads indicated it so.

"To maintain our…militant opposition to a Communist or National Vanguardist revolution, we may not have to disband the Freikorps but merely transition it into a different kind of organization," she explains. "One that could still allow us to acquire funding from our conservative allies: operating as private security and strikebreakers."

"Like the Pinkertons in America?" Lichten inquired.

Elena Muller nodded.

"And what do you propose we call this 'bodyguard' organization?" Heydryck asked.

"Die Kaiserliche Sicherheitsabteilung/KSA."

"The Imperial Security Detachment…" Neumann remarked slowly at first. "I suppose there's no point hiding ourselves now from the Reichstag. We must make sure the Major has the support she needs once she returns."

"You seem hesitant, Weiss." Konig observed, "Is something wrong?"

"It's-it's just that I feel we are going against the Major's wishes once again," Weiss replied.

"What makes you think that?" Elena inquired sharply, "We are still working with the Republic, are we not? Are we not disbanding and pursuing new careers just as the Reichstag prefers? What did the Major say? 'Even if they do not want our help.'"

"She makes a fair point, brother," Neumann grunted. "If what Lergen says is true, then - then I'd say fair is fair. They pretend to protect Degurechaff, we pretend to protect the Republic."

We pretend to obey if she pretends to command.

"Elena Muller?" Weiss approached the brunette when once they were the last ones present in Degurechaff's manse/office. For some reason, he felt the need to be the one to lock the doors just as he had the inkling that she held similar reasons for staying behind. "A moment of your time?"

"Already attempting to woo?" she winked, "Sorry to disappoint but I am a lady with temperamental tastes in my partners. But I appreciate your bravery."

"That is not - uh - what?" The veteran blushed heavily as he considered her response. "Oh. OH…you're…"

"Yes. I'm that kind of woman in this modern age." Muller rolled her eyes, "Sorry for not being the meek little housewife you seek."

"On the contrary, I think you'll be a lovely housewife to another if you put your mind to it."

"I'll take that as a compliment." the brunette's smile though Weiss felt it was more like a frown. "Now care to explain why you chose to remain here staring blankly at files and ledgers relating to my line of work?"

"Finally, a moment of direct transparency. A rare luxury both within and without the Imperial Army." The veteran mage smirked bitterly. "You know, I wish we could finally converse as two honest devotees of Degurechaff and her vision."

"Oh, I share the same sentiment as well." she nodded solemnly, "I too believe we could be more productive together with the understanding that honesty is the best policy."

"Indeed…so why us? Why do you follow Degurechaff? What do you get out of it?"

"If we're to be answering inquiries to measure public opinion, you start first."

Weiss snorted as he quickly looked away; finding the dim streetlamps more appealing than Muller's eyes. They were as dark and rich as Flemish chocolate. Her eyes were both captivating and insidious.

"You are the Major's eyes and ears. Do I really need to say it aloud?"

"If nothing else, it merely confirms what I already know and therefore, saves the paper and time spent for revision."

"I like to think of myself as a simple soldier with simple goals," Weiss explains, looking upwards at the moon. "To serve with honor, to fulfill my duties diligently, and come home safe and sound to live as my father's heir. I curse the Republic every day for making such tenets impossible to adhere to."

"And for revenge, you became a politician." Elena Muller grinned.

"Please, I would prefer none of us be called as such. The Republic already has enough of them. I am a soldier of the Empire, nothing more - nothing less."

"Is that what Degurechaff means to you? A return to normality? A return to the golden era that never existed where simple men can lead simple lives?"

"You say as if it's a terrible thing to look forward to considering the humiliation that surrounds us daily." Weiss shrugged, "I believe that perhaps you have a counterargument to push forward now that I have said my piece. What do you want? Truly?"

"Well, for starters, unlike you and your simple-minded approach to Degurechaff's leadership, I see a chance to completely reinvent the concept of Europe and Europe-ness." Elena Muller snarked, "It is so strange to see our institutions be compromised with antiquated ideals that have no place in a modern society. The Communists, the Fascists, the National Vanguardists - they all promise a revolutionary approach to life, to government, to the very concept of personhood but they all end up in the same pitfalls that the Progressives and the Liberals experienced then and now: being moral and social hypocrites."

"I suppose that's the one thing we can both agree upon."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The Empire is dead so let it remain so. Degurechaff will build a new one, a better one, where the revolutionary spirit of 1848 is reignited in the hearts of every man, woman, and child. A torch that is bright, untamed, and uncorrupted by the likes of Bismarck and Metternacht. One Realm for one People, one Culture, and one God under one Sovereign."

"One God?" Weiss couldn't help but feel amused by it, "Says the half-Judean. How is that life working out for you? Worshipping 'two' Gods. I can't say I encountered many Judeans and their stories in the Imperial Army."

"It. Didn't." Elena Muller replied coldly, glaring daggers at the young man quite bitterly. "I was raised a conservative Papalist at my father's behest and…no one in my mother's tribe took kindly to it. But I had the last laugh. Now they don't regard me with open disdain."

"Really? How do they greet you currently?"

"With open fear."

"How many of them did you retire during your previous employment?"

"Define 'them.'"

"Just - you know - everyone?"

"For every 100 marks I processed, only five turned out to be Bolshevik traitors while everyone else was useful idiots but Rudensdorf deemed the ratio acceptable. It was never the question if I sent too many into permanent retirement, it was always if I sent too few." the brunette explains softly.

"And how many did you kill - personally?" Weiss questioned carefully.

"19,737 dead since my reassignment by Rudensdorf and Zettour - it will be 19,738 tonight by midnight. 'Executioner Elena' was my moniker during the dictatorship. I suggest you remember it well, Herr Weiss."

"I am surprised Visha did not notice your new activities earlier."

"Because ignorance, prejudice, and fanaticism guided her every step; a miserable woman from a miserable family. The day the new Empire is formed and rises above such petty squabbles and unites the various people into a single monolith will be the greatest achievement by Kaiserin Degurechaff."

"That's quite the imagination," Weiss muttered, "But I suppose it will be an issue for another day."

"You sound disappointed, almost fearful; are you sure you are not Zettour's son?"

"Please, I try to keep an open mind when it comes to politics and society. I am not an advocate for the full regression like those old Junkers. I quite like some of those liberal ideals."

"How fascinating," Elena nodded coyishly, "Now that we have plenty of work to do, let us build an army worthy of Argent Silver."