Chapter 7: The Blade of Teuton and Whispers of the Past

The Highland Forest, a hilly expanse straddling the border between Francis and Teuton, had long been regarded by military strategists as an insurmountable natural barrier, one no large-scale army could hope to breach.

And today…

The Silver-haired girl sat within the tank, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before her. Teuton’s formidable tank and armored divisions had covertly gathered here. To the north, on the lowland battlefield, their diversionary attack was proceeding according to plan.

Now was their moment for a decisive, unexpected triumph.

They would become the Empire’s keenest blade, slicing through the enemy’s ranks, surging behind their lines, and then delivering a final, fatal thrust to the weakened nation.

Yuli’s grip tightened on the control stick. Never before had she felt such profound tension. Though command had rehearsed the operation countless times, she acutely sensed that the success or failure of this mission, the outcome of this entire blitzkrieg, now rested solely with her and her unit.

She stood poised with Teuton’s magnificent armored divisions, their objective clear: to strike at the proud victors of the Great War, who had basked in their glory for two decades.

“Advance! Remember this: we have no time to take prisoners. Advance!”

****

“When people reach a certain age, they often reminisce about their childhood dreams…”

One afternoon, Yuli found herself perched nervously on a sofa within the Leader’s Purburg residence. The blonde-haired girl, known simply as the Leader, sat across from her, her expression radiating warmth as she spoke.

“Yuli, you are exceptional. We are of a similar age, so I believe we’ll have much to discuss.”

“Leader…”

Confronted by the Teuton Empire’s formidable leader, Yuli remained slightly nervous. She stiffly straightened her posture as the blonde-haired girl, with a soft smile, lit a cigar.

Adelie, the Empire’s new head, the supreme leader of both nation and army. Any statesman or leader across the globe would be astonished by the trajectory of this young woman’s life over the past few years.

From an obscure young girl, she had ascended to chair the Spear Society, then incited a rebellion, faced arrest, and, after a military pardon, successfully campaigned to become the Empire’s Leader. Yuli, though her own origins were far more privileged, had never experienced a meteoric rise quite like Adelie’s.

“Your father, General Gustav, fought in the last World War, didn’t he? I’m genuinely curious, what kind of childhood did a general’s daughter experience?” Adelie turned to Yuli, her question gentle.

“I…”

Unbidden, her memories drifted back to childhood, to the fleeting years of the Teuton Republic…

Little Yuli, whip in hand, galloped across General Gustav’s sprawling equestrian grounds atop a magnificent white steed. Her petite form and youthful face created a striking contrast with the towering horse beneath her.

“Yuli!”

The middle-aged man called out to Yuli, but his voice failed to reach the “racing girl.” The white horse, startled, bolted wildly, galloping without direction. Aboard its back, Yuli frantically tugged the reins, struggling to bring the powerful animal to a halt.

“Hoo~ hoo~”

Thankfully, little Yuli eventually managed to rein in the horse. She cautiously slid down from its considerable height, then, a little unsteady, scampered to her father’s side.

“Dad, you scared my white horse…”

Little Yuli grumbled. General Gustav merely chuckled, scooping up his daughter. He then took the horse’s bridle and spoke.

“A skilled knight can always keep their horse calm. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Yuli averted her gaze.

“I remember, I remember. You said our Teuton ancestors were all from the knightly orders, and that every Teuton possesses the noble blood of chivalry. There, are you satisfied?”

The General smiled, shaking his head gently. Cradling little Yuli, he spoke in a soothing, paternal voice.

“Alright, little Yuli, keep practicing diligently. Horsemanship is merely the first step. In today’s world, the glory of the cavalry is steadily receding from us.”

“Then, Father, is there anything more formidable than a cavalry charge?”

Little Yuli gazed up at General Gustav, her eyes brimming with anticipation. He mused for a moment before replying.

“There exists a war machine called a tank. It represents the perfect fusion of armor and artillery. During the last Great War, when soldiers in the trenches dared to peer over the parapet and saw those invulnerable tanks rumbling towards them, what do you imagine they thought, facing such gargantuan beasts?”

“These machines are so peculiar. While they are instruments of war, mercilessly reaping lives, they also possess an ineffable grandeur and a powerful, almost beautiful, might. Yuli, perhaps one day you, too, could become an an exceptional ace tank driver.”

“I… could I?”

Yuli’s eyes gleamed with nascent ambition. In that instant, a seed had been sown deep within her heart.

Snapped back to reality from her reverie, Yuli shook her head, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“Nothing particularly special. I was simply groomed from a young age to become a soldier.”

“I see…” The Leader nodded. She rose from the sofa, strolled to the window, and exhaled a perfect smoke ring. “That’s good. At least you genuinely enjoy this path.”

“As a child, I harbored a passion for painting, but my father vehemently disapproved. Defying their objections, I journeyed to Vienna to apply for art university, only to be rejected.”

“I vividly recall being destitute then, living in the haunts of vagrants. Whenever Vienna’s grand capitalists passed, I, like everyone else, had to doff my hat in deference. Eventually, I left Vienna. A very, very long time passed after that…”

She abruptly spun around, her emotions visibly stirring, and addressed Yuli with fervent intensity.

“And so, two years ago, when I finally returned to Vienna, I was overcome by an extraordinary sensation. I led thousands of troops, I basked in the cheers of the Viennese populace, and I could even look down upon Vienna’s Chancellor—the very position I once held in such reverence! Yuli! Just this morning, the Ministry of Defense once again sent envoys to dissuade me, claiming it isn’t yet time to commit everything.”

“But in my entire life, I have always given my all!”

She ceased abruptly, then, with a faint, knowing smile, shook her head and settled back onto the sofa. “Yuli,” she asked, her tone now utterly calm, “do you harbor any aspirations to enter politics?”

“I…”

Yuli found herself momentarily bewildered. After a moment’s thought, she shook her head. Politics, she admitted, was a realm utterly foreign to her.

“I see…” Adelie gently stroked the small cat that had leaped onto the sofa and curled into her lap, a soft smile playing on her lips. “That’s perfectly alright. It makes you… purer.”

“Hmm…” she murmured, her final words to Yuli a quiet admonition. “Perform admirably. Once the Western Front campaign concludes, perhaps we’ll find ourselves with quite a lot more to attend to…”

Her sharp gaze then fixed upon the northern regions of the map.

****

“We were trapped, perishing amidst the northern ice and snow. His Imperial Majesty and the Royal Guard were forced to retreat across the river. What an arduous withdrawal that proved to be…”

Inside the room, the old man was recounting tales of the past to Fran. Thanks to the recent period of care, his health had significantly improved. His once paralyzed limbs and dulled senses were gradually recovering. His voice was gentle; indeed, the old man had grown particularly fond of Fran, this quiet child who always listened intently to his stories.

He couldn’t help but sigh, tears brimming in his eyes. “Do you understand, child?” he asked. “Back then, we had nothing but frozen, rock-hard biscuits and horse meat to sustain us.”

Fran nodded. He… he understood all too well. In a mere matter of days, with the Teuton army’s relentless advance from the Highland Forest, Purburg had been plunged into panic, its prices soaring uncontrollably.

Fran hadn’t eaten a hot meal in days, and a faint dizziness now plagued his head. Still, he strove to ensure the old man was well-fed, if only to maintain their delicate charade.

However, the old man’s health continued to improve. One night, he was even startled awake by the sound of artillery fire from outside the window.

“What’s that noise?” the old man asked Fran, who had just burst into the room, his voice laced with panic. Fran offered an awkward smile, rushed to the bedside, and quickly drew the curtains shut.

“It’s… it’s a celebratory salute,” he stammered. “To mark our army’s encirclement of Purburg, the Teuton capital, the city government is firing cannons in celebration!”

He explained awkwardly, though in truth… those were the Teuton army’s artillery shells, and they were already on the verge of reaching Purburg’s gates…

The old man blinked, his expression a mix of belief and doubt.

“Hmm… so that means our army will soon be returning in triumph!”