A/N: So, any words regarding this chapter? Uh, well, good question. Meta speaking, this is the "breather" between Rondel and the final battle. I also forgot to note something last chapter: in the Spanish version, Schmidt let Lelei and Mimoza go, while in this version he orders them killed. This difference can be taken in two ways.

First, in the Spanish version, Lelei has a much closer relationship with the Vanguard Regiment, which made him decide not to kill them. In this version, however, Lelei lacks any meaningful relation with the regiment and is a security risk that knows of their capabilities, thus making him opt to kill her. That ties with the second option, which is that EN Schmidt, much more developed than his ES version simile, opts to allow the SAS to kill her as a final act of defiance at being stopped from fulfilling his orders.

On a further side note, the last bit of the previous chapter did not go through post-writing review because screw it, I was tired. Sorry for any mistakes. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Expect some character plots to be closed here, only a handful will remain by the last chapter.

Disclaimer: "GATE: thus, the JSDF fought there!" and "Girls und Panzer" do not belong to me, all credit to their respective authors/owners. This is merely a fan-made project that seeks no monetary gain or compensation.

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Chapter 12
Near the end

War Room, Alnus Military Base
D-Day +64
09:47 hrs.

Controlled breaths and quiet finger tapping were all that's left to accompany the ambience noise of the A/C keeping the temperature inside the Academic Coalition Alnus's War Room on a tolerable level. Despite the machine's best efforts, however, it could not silence the loudening muteness of the room's multiple occupants the following seconds after a certain Major Karl Schmidt finished retelling his troops venture into the Rondel Valley. In fact, the several officers in the room seemed to be all sharing a single thought at that moment:

"We're screwed."

Such was the scene when British general Scott sighed, ran a hand over his temple, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and took a step forward, gathering the attention on himself as he approached the central table with the map of the region extended.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I trust is not necessary of me to remind you we're finding ourselves stacked with shit up to our throats, pardon me the language." Several nodded nervously, while a few chuckled a bit at the phrase used, so unlike the officer in question. "Should Rondel learn of what transpired in that village, they will most likely align themselves with the Empire, or worse yet, against us. Pay no mind to the issue of the press getting word of it, which would result in our dilemmas becoming problems."

Annoyed murmurs travelled fast but were equally fast silenced by the raised hand of Schroeder. Thanking him with a nod, Scott continued speaking.

"Not to be left behind, the Empire of Sadera has had ample time to bring their troops in faraway regions, which should be starting to arrive en masse, as our own intelligence has kindly become aware in the past few days. A measly one thousand men is enough to threaten most of our outposts, a quantity that Saderans may very well pull out of their arses anywhere in this continent as far as we're concerned. An overconfident Empire could be one of the worst situations for us to be in right now, even if it serves us in the long-term."

While a few casted reproachful stares at the commanding officer of the "Rondel screw-up", the general consensus remained stuck in the worried glances most officers were throwing each other around.

"I trust it you have a proposal then, general Scott?"

The field head of the Royal Guards Academy nodded absently as he acknowledged the question of his peer from the Tovarishcheskaya Akademiya, his eyes lazily scanning the map in front of him.

"A quite simple one, general Isakovich." He gestured for the rest to approach, with many taking a few steps forward. "Let us assume for a moment that Rondel has a somewhat accurate grasp on our capabilities, even if not on our methods. And why should they? From their position, it seems like a platoon of teenager students destroyed an entire village and vanished in the middle of the night without alerting a soul in carriages defying all common logic. They'll be wary, as a minimum, though unlikely to join the Empire in all fairness."

"How'd you know?"

"They don't strike me as the kind of folks to disregard past relations with the lovely neighbour that surrounds them and has been naught but hostile in the last few decades. For them, we're but a handful of academic teenagers with wonder machines. Not really a reason to ally themselves with their long-standing enemy."

"...go on."

"Sadera, on the other hand, has regrouped her legions, yet must be still reeling from the high casualties so far, the loss of a key logistical hub, and the demise of her vassals' armies. Combine that with their precarious communications network and general lack of knowledge on our capabilities for a clearer picture. All this is to say, I see a way out of this, but it's quite a gamble if I say so myself."

"Expand on that," asked general Kessler, feldgeneral of the Preussischen Akademie.

"Let us suppose that the Empire had an army of half a million souls three months ago, when they invaded Flanders. That figure comes from estimates based on intelligence gathered in Italica and imperial commanders' captured journals and dispatches. Thus far, we've inflicted some 90,000 casualties, plus another 120,000 of their vassals' armies. If we assume they must leave at least 30% of their forces for garrison duties, border control, and keeping their vassals down, Sadera could potentially muster up to a quarter million men against us from some five vectors of attack at this point in time, not including the 80,000 remaining vassal troops, assuming they all remain. That's half their pre-war army. I propose an operation that deals such a devastating blow to their concentrated forces that they have no choice but to sue for peace after the deed is done."

Scott's words gave way to a wave of comments in low voice among those present, and it was clear that they were all arguing over one thing: whether or not they had the resources to pull such a hit on their enemy.

"Sure, because Rome surrendered after Cannae, didn't them?" Isakovich counterattacked with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "Nor the Soviets after Barbarossa or the Germans after Bagration."

"Sadera is not, however, Rome, the Soviet Union, or Germany. We have ways of convincing the enemy to seek peace, if anything, because we have a princess offering a viable proposal that would amount to a change of government to one favourable to our side. That is, we bring legitimacy." Scott let his index fall on the star marking the imperial capital, frowning. "Once the current administration suffers the loss of half their army in the campaigning season and a legitimate successor appears with a proposal, especially in a country that enforced its will upon others by force and cannot afford abandoning what's already under their boot, I have a positive expectation for the local nobility to change sides, if only to safeguard their wealth. We can assist in... quelling any disturbance that may surge should the former administration attempt to regain the throne next while the princess consolidates her rule and has enough capital to sign a definitive peace with us."

"As much as I love a harsh blow on our enemy, I don't think we have enough troops for such a blow against one of those concentrations, let alone five, shall we go with that option. We are too spread thin for that," noted Kessler, grunting. Isakovich nodded along.

"Even if we do concentrate, we are too few. We need reinforcements from the Motherland for that."

"Add to that retreating to fortified chokepoints so Saderans can't run over our rear when the strike force is busy fighting halfway across the continent," added Scott, a small smile forming on his lips as he saw the idea hook on his peers, "I already have a couple places in mind, actually."

"Such as?" Asked Hermann, from the Panzer Akademie.

"Ligs, for example. Building an alternative bridge nearby large enough will take them days at least, plenty of time for us to bomb and scatter them. They will 100% fight over for the well-fortified bridge."

"Colonel Woods has effectively cut off Elbe from the imperial capital down south," informed Kessler, nodding in approval, "He's informed of two crossings on relevance that could be used as chokepoints with a bit of preparation, however there's the possibility of enemy attacks from the northern imperial coast of the Blue Sea, or from the imperial city of Deabis, which he is preparing to assault as we speak."

"Can Woods secure Deabis in time?" Inquired the head of the Udarnykh Voysk Akademiya, general Belov.

"It's not a large city and is mostly undefended. He'll be fine." Scott dismissed the Russian's worry with a wave of his hand. "Once Deabis is occupied, we can use it as the centre-point of the Roma River's defence once Saderan-Elbian troops arrive en masse. Elbe will be effectively isolated as far as we are concerned."

"This is all fine and dandy, general Scott, but I'm still left with a single major question," Schroeder interrupted, closing in and uncrossing his arms and he leaned over the map, "Where exactly are you planning to do these large battles against Sadera?"

"It'll depend on their final vectors of approach, general Schroeder, but roughly speaking, the plan is to have a mobile armoured battlegroup that will surround and smash the enemy's formations as they crash against prepared defences on our lines. On the south, it will be the Roma River, with Deabis serving as the central stronghold, while to the west we can use Ligs and the Schwarz Gap, depending on their final approach route. The north is, as far as we are all concerned, covered by the Romaria Mountain Range and the independent city of Rondel, which we have discussed and presumed unwilling to allow imperial troops safe passage over their territory. Now, as for the east..."

"Yes?"

"Well, it's highly improbable they'll launch an offensive across the Duma Mountains, so we must take the initiative and carry the fight to them if we want to keep to our timetable. For that, we must seize Mare Fortress and secure the Lancia Mountain Pass. Following that, I suggest we establish a defensive perimeter... here."

The English's hand fell upon a hilly formation in the map, roughly midway between the city of Sadera and the Duma Mountains. Worried and excited glances were equally thrown around as the core of the idea became clear for everyone: they would bait the imperial army to attack them by becoming sitting ducks in front of the imperial capital.

Schroeder analysed the map with expert eyes and uncommitting face, his mind drawing and redrawing multiple vectors, arrows, and roads, supply lines appearing and disappearing as he calculated possible movements by all the parties involved.

"Main enemy force will be at their capital. Two vectors of approach and most of their territory is eastwards," the German declared, sight not leaving the star in the map, "We need to take out the smaller attacks first, so they don't get a chance to scatter before the mobile battlegroup reaches them. We also need to take the Mare Fortress and Lancia Pass in one swift blow, so as to not alarm them while we're still crossing the mountains."

"That's impossible," the attention darted to the man that spoke: it was the head of the Royal Armoured Academy. "We would have to take the three fortresses covering the pass in a single day, one of which has a bloody town inside, mind ya. Armoured troops aren't going to work in there."

"Don't worry, general McDougall," answered Scott, raising his hands in a somewhat defensive gesture which didn't quite reach his eyes, "We have enough airborne troops to assault the Fyue and Recci Fortresses on the other side of the mountains, which should easily resist until we make it across with the bulk of our men."

"What about Mare Fortress, then? Do we have troops for that? Our paras will be stretched thin taking over two fortresses, holding spots while waiting for a reinforcement column... it's bloody Market Garden all over again."

"That..."

"It will not be like Market Garden, at all."

The two stared at the overall academic commander, followed by most of those present. The Scottish general crossed his arms as he stared at him with a frown.

"Well, how'd ya know?"

"Saderans are not my countrymen, for one." Schroeder's vision clouded, so did most of the officers in the room. "They have displayed a lack of all the key elements to perform the desperate defence carried out in the Netherlands back in 1944, both in leadership and materials. They also lack anything remarkably close to proper intelligence on us, and, God forbid, they still lack anti-tank means that could stop dead our columns. We need proper intelligence on the ground for this, but I can be sure that this will not be a repeat of Market Garden."

Silence permeated the room for a while. Nobody dared speak, should they become the focus of the icy glares both German and British officers were throwing at each other. The officers of other countries quietly tried to distance themselves from them, sipping away at their cups or finding a new hobby in observing the details on the pre-made furniture that decorated the room.

It was general McDougall that broke the silence.

"I still don't know with what troops you plan to take over Mare, general Schroeder."

"Rest assured, McDougall. I have them."

Schroeder threw a side-glance at Scott. Both knew they needed more data to convince the rest of the generals and the commanders of the different smaller detachments that composed the academic coalition. They couldn't mount such a large operation without reinforcements and full cooperation from everyone else.

However, they also had allies. Schroeder estimated half the commanders were on board with the plan to a large degree, and he had the means (or the pull to get the means) to get the intelligence he needed in order to bring the matter over to a vote. He would get to that later today, as soon as he knew from whom he already had support. As he thought of that, his eyes lingered for a few seconds of the smaller figure with light-coloured hair and massive twin-tails observing from the edge of the room.

He had the means. With any luck, he could get this war over in a month.

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Alnus Town

"I still can't believe I'm actually here again," Risa muttered, sipping her coffee, eyes time and time again checking every corner around her. No soldier was keen on watching her steps, thus once again prompting her to sigh in relief, "I guess they didn't want to risk consequences by keeping me locked."

"Well, that's partly the reason. Far from all of it though," said her partner in her coffee break, a fellow intelligence officer, though from the British counterpart instead of the Japanese PSIA, "Not even six hours after KG Model detained you, they received orders to stop Operation Ars Goetia by any means necessary and seize all related data from the Vanguard Regiment. That turned you from a liability into an asset."

"Did KG Model do it all by itself? They're quite a small force, despite their strength."

"Well, the Vanguard Regiment wasn't a collector of friendships, that's for sure. Meller might've been a little too lenient with them, but Schroeder, his successor, wanted nothing to do with their antics. Rumour says he was already planning his own blow against the regiment when orders to stop its operations arrived."

"So general Schroeder took a step aside?"

"Far more than that. He was fully on-board with the idea and assisted KG Model as much as he could aside from involving his own forces. Up to setting up Laundraff for imprisonment."

"Wow... I expected a cushion for his comrade."

"Legend has it that Laundraff and Schroeder weren't in the best of terms pre-war. How much is true and how much is hearsay, though, is anyone's guess. The only thing we know for sure is that Schroeder spared no effort aiding the privateers."

Risa took a long sip of coffee from her paper cup, mind running with ideas and scenarios, fantasising how all the actors involved acted.

"How was it?"

"Was what?"

"The raid on the Vanguard Regiment's HQ in Italica. There have been enough days to know what is true and what is exaggeration."

"I'll do you one better." Her British comrade smirked as he ordered another cup of tea. "I was there. I know exactly what happened in Italica."

"Please do me the honours."

"I'll send you a full briefing later, but I'll give you a summary. After Schroeder and von Roestel, the PMC commander, agreed on what to do, orders arrived to Italica. KG Model's second-in-command, Hereford, was already on-site. Quite the confident man if you ask me. He waited until daybreak to have his men break in and seize all they could while Basset, the other privateer commander there and the most bureaucracy-looking girl I've seen in my life, blasted through the speakers that they were following Alnus' orders and advised to not resist. It seemed every single bloody officer had a copy of the orders on hand, which facilitated quite the bit the whole ordeal."

"Wait. So, you are telling me that the Vanguard Regiment, considered perhaps the most elite formation of the coalition, was caught with its pants down?"

"Pretty much. Those privateers sure knew what they were doing." Her partner stopped to receive his second cup of tea, paying with a few coins. "Hereford went straight to Laundraff, who, quite predictably, was already trying to erase documents and get some sort of resistance working. He got a surrender within minutes, beats me how he got the stubborn Irish fella to lay down his arms. Basset remained on the centre of the military district ordering the PMC men around. Within the hour they had seized control over most of the regiment's assets, including weapons, vehicles, and communication stations."

"The regiment couldn't ask for help, then?"

"Apparently, Basset had infiltrated men the night prior. The signal of the whole place went down for the entire operation and was only reestablished to order the rest of the regiment back to Italica. Schroeder dispatched reliable troops to garrison conquered positions at dawn and relieved the regiment's own that same day in most places. The take-over was as swift as possible. By sunset, all units of the Vanguard Regiment were returning to Italica or operationally dead."

"Does that include the group heading towards Rondel?"

"Indeed. The pilot Schroeder sent managed to contact to the commanding officer of the group and relayed all information, later guiding the column out of the valley. They, however, and all units in the field had ample time to destroy all relevant records, so we can't know for sure what they did in the field out of official parts sent to their HQ."

"At least we have something... what about the records I got in Italica?"

"CIA got them. They shared copies, however they refused to clarify who exactly ordered the operation. Schroeder might know, but his lips are sealed. At most we got rumours pointing towards certain clerical people with connections to high-ranking people of the government. How kind of them, innit?"

Risa snorted at the phrase's ending, chuckling.

"So, what now?"

"Academic command is deciding on their next move. Higher ups say they're planning a major offensive to destroy the bulk of the imperial army, which should be arriving the following month."

"Sounds like a ton of work."

"A Japanese school is finishing instruction on their special forces soon to aid future operations. They're doing a parachute demo later, if you have nothing else to do."

"Honestly? Sounds like a decent activity while we wait for orders."

"Let's go then."

Risa put some money on the table and the two soon left towards the practice fields in the outskirts of Alnus. Meanwhile, at the centre of the base, another scene was currently going on.

"The hell's in there? That truck's been moving non-stop for like 15 minutes or something, hasn't it? What's in there, one of those fucking monsters?"

"Beats me. Shit's classified, supposedly, but you how rumors go around plenty these days. I'm sure the sarge will tell us later anyway."

Two military police students from the US Army academy, The No-Number, were resting near the GATE's entrance while sharing a cigarette. Their eyes, however, were focussed on the moving truck parked near the access barriers, which shook from time to time. Completing the scene, a very tired Russian driver and a very angry German officer were trying (and failing) to pressure the GATE guard chief to let the truck pass faster.

A corporal laid back on the fence next to the two privates, nonchalantly taking out his own cigarette and lighting it up.

"Sir." They both saluted.

"Hey there." The NCO returned the gesture and the three soon were back on the fence. "Heard the news on that thing?"

"You know something, sir?"

"Hell yeah I do." The corporal took a drag before speaking, eyes scanning the still-moving truck. "A Russian officer went crazy after an engagement not long ago. They had him sedated until recently and just now got the clearance to carry him out of Falmart. Bastard's though as fuck; they used three people's worth of drugs to calm him down."

"That's... a lot."

"Let me out you bastard! Let me out! I'm going to kill those Saderan bastards myself and shit on their corpses! Let me out, dammit! You heard me you fuckers?! Either you let me out or I'll break out myself and kill you all on the way!"

"That's... the Russian?"

"Looks like so."

"Damn, he's batshit crazy."

"No kidding," agreed the corporal, taking another drag from his cigarette, "Word on the guard says that kraut over there was the Russian's CO. There must be a reason why he wants him out of here."

"I could believe that. I never knew someone could hit their heels on the ground so many times a minute."

"Well, break's over. See ya."

"See you later, sir."

The corporal snuffed out his cigarette and left, leaving the two privates alone once again. The two exchanged a look before sighing, shaking their heads at the same time as the truck with the Russian officer got lost in the dark portal connecting worlds.

"Bad day to be a soldier."

"Hooah."

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Anzio Area, Japanese Barracks, Alnus Military Base
D-Day +66
11:24 hrs

The loud steps echoed in the uncommonly empty hallways, its cheerful occupants for the second day in a row away for training. Miho could not remove from her head, however, the memories of how cheerful the Italian-themed girls could be before and after matches back in Japan, where their tankettes often played rounds around the heavier tanks that even Ooarai High School could field. Those times seemed so far now; she couldn't help a small chuckle from escaping her lips. Those were other times. Simpler times, or as simple as fighting for your school survival could be.

The small laugh caused her two companios, Maho and Erwin, to look at her with worry, a glare she was oblivious to.

Miho composed herself as they reached their destination, an office that acted as a command centre for Anzio's commander Anchovy, helping her perform her duties... whatever they may be. To be honest, Miho hadn't taken the time to properly reach out to the Anzio girls, especially given how little time she spent on the base. She hoped to do something soon to remedy that.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Come in!"

The three girls went through the door without hurry, finding the scene of their old acquaintance Anchovy sitting behind her desk with an older man leaning on the map spread over the table.

"Hey there! Miho, Maho! And you must be... Erwin, I think? I heard of you from Carpaccio. You are one of Ceasar's friends, right?"

Her greeting went into blind ears. Miho and Erwin stopped dead in their tracks at the sight unknown person. Maho blinked a couple times but showed no other sign of surprise. The unknown male was noticeably older than them, perhaps in his forties, and his blond hair was cut short in a neat military style. His skin was a tanned pale white, his general disposition screamed Caucasian, and wore a camouflage uniform that Erwin was quick to point out as the US Army modern combat fatigues. However, there was a distinct lack of patches or common signs typical of active service men, aside from dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

Anchovy raised an eyebrow at the befuddled gaze of her compatriots, until it sank on her the main issue.

"Ah don't worry about him. Should I present you?" Her words took her three visitors out of their trance, barely managing to nod as the Italian themed commander rose from her seat and extended a hand in her companion's direction. "Miho, Maho, Erwin, this is James Johnson, a retired major of the American Ranger Regiment. He trained us for this expedition!"

Anchovy's cheerful glare got the engines in her fellow Japanese running again. One by one they presented themselves to the American, who nodded amicably at their slightly awkward introductions.

"M-Miho Nishizumi, commander of the Vanguard Company of the Vanguard Regiment. P-pleasure to meet you!"

"Maho Nishizumi, former commander of Kuromorimine's Sensha-do club."

"I go by Erwin, hehe. I'm the commander of a StuG III in Miho's zug. Nice to meet a real ranger!"

"The pleasure's all mine, girls. It's nice to see you in such high spirits."

There was a touch of worry in his voice, but whether it was received by the students was lost to him. If he wanted to say any other word, however, he lost the chance when Erwin practically teleported next to him in order to bombard him with questions from his service. The Nishizumi sisters stared with a drop of sweat (in the case of Miho) or barely a blink of surprise (in Maho's case) before they approached Anchovy, their fellow Sensha-do commander returning to her seated position as she watched with a slight smile the exchange between the Ooarai student and the American veteran.

"Hi once again, Anchovy-san. Thanks for having us."

"Oh no, this is nothing. You girls of Ooarai have been on this far longer than us. It should be us who are apologizing for coming in so late."

"You came when you could, Anchovy-san. That's enough."

"Stop being so comprehensive, Miho! You are making me blush..."

The smaller Nishizumi chuckled at her green-haired companion's words, her sister mustering a small smile.

"Ne, Anchovy-san. Etto... sorry for not visiting earlier when you arrived. We've been a bit busy moving up and down with the rest of the regiment for the past three weeks. We were only allowed to return to Alnus today."

"Don't worry, Miho, I understand. You Ooarai girls have borne the brunt of the fighting on behalf of us Japanese highschoolers, the least we can do is give you a break from formalities." Anchovy dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. "We in Anzio, at least, are the same old group as always. No, really! You would think that military training would instil something akin to discipline in my girls... however! They're still the same bunch of food-obsessed highschoolers. At least the pasta is as good as ever, right?!"

She finished her words with a shining smile, one returned by the two sisters.

"Glad to know everything is as usual, Anchovy-san."

"You don't have to worry about us. Which reminds me..." Anchovy leaned on her side, supporting her face on her fist on the armrest of her chair. "What brings you lot here? I don't think we are scheduled to work together anytime soon, and the girls are in training right now. They should be practicing combat jumps as we speak, aided by the European paratroopers. Who knows, one might do such a good job that they grant her an official rank like yourself!"

"I-I didn't ask for that rank..." Miho shook her face. She was getting sidetracked. "Anchovy-san, I came to ask you something important. Sorry if this is too sudden."

"Ask away, Miho. Is the least I can do for all you've done."

"Thanks. Now..." Miho took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Why was she getting so worked over a simple question? Perhaps she was truly becoming increasingly stressed these days. "Anchovy-san, you are close to the Board of Generals, right?"

"... I wouldn't really say that I'm that close to them. I'm simply another commander on the base, there's plenty like me in that regard."

"But you are considered one of them, right? At least to some degree," intervened Maho, taking a step forward, "At least enough so that you are invited to the planning sessions and the Board's meetings."

"I am, yes. I take part in some of them."

"... do you know what's going on? Major Schmidt hasn't told us anything since we returned to Italica a few days ago, and only today the regiment was allowed to leave for Alnus. They even took two of our crews away, yet we haven't been told anything. There have been rumours of us going to stay in Alnus, of us leaving for Japan without our tanks, of us going back to fight... we are at a complete loss here..."

"You mean captains Petrakov and Walker?" Asked Maho. Miho nodded without taking her eyes from Anchovy, whose face fell into a neutral stare.

"... you don't know..."

"Anchovy-san?"

The commander of Anzio rose her eyes until she was staring directly into her Ooarai counterpart, her mouth in a thin line and face betraying no emotion.

"Apparently they haven't told you yet, Miho, but... the girls are going home."

Miho blinked a couple times: she didn't understand what Anchovy was saying. Soon, however, her eyes shot wide open, and her hands reached her mouth, remembering the euphemism she had heard so Europeans use when talking about their fallen comrades. Anchovy, however, was quick to realise her mistake and corrected himself before it could escalate more.

"I don't mean it that way!" The green haired girl stood up, frantically waving her arms. "I mean, they are literally going back home. Practically all students of the two Japanese Tank Brigades on Falmart have been recalled back to Japan. Official motive is so they don't lose any more class hours, but there are rumours of something else being the motive behind it."

"... do you know what it is?"

"I have an idea as to why they would want them out of Falmart. It's not a pretty one." Anchovy seated down once again. A quick side glance revealed that Erwin and James had stopped talking and were also listening to her words. "I don't want you to think I'm implying our fellow girls are a nuisance but, speaking strictly from the Board of Generals' perspective... they are an unreliable element, which makes it an issue when predictions are that Falmart is going to catch a very big and violent fire soon."

"What do you mean?"

Maho suddenly interrupted Anchovy, staring down at the girl with an icy cold glare that made the twin-tailed girl instinctively seek refuge deeper into her chair. Said girl gulped in silence before nodding, resuming her previous stance.

"Please don't repeat anything of what I'm about to say until it's made public." Both sisters nodded, and a quick glance from Maho to Erwin made the blonde assault gun commander nod as well. Satisfied, Anchovy resumed her talking. "The Board is planning a final operation to try and end the war in a swift swoop. It's not going to be easy: it will require numerous reinforcements and strain logistic lines, and is highly likely that some territories might need to be abandoned to secure better defensive lines. Unit organization will be changing constantly according to the priorities, and the Board wants to field trustworthy units to have their backs covered while operating in Falmart. Ooarai is a safe bet for them: you and your girls have proven yourself in combat several times, and you have the European officers to vouch for you. But the rest of our classmates? They aren't so lucky."

"What do you mean?" Came Erwin's voice from the side. A quick glance revealed the uncertainty in her face, and her voice was faltering a bit. "Why haven't they been lucky?"

"It's quite simple, actually: not all Sensha-do commanders can ask her fellow classmates to shot for the kill with war machines and expect them to do it right away. That's not how the human mind works," intervened Johnson, the retired Ranger taking over the conversation. Anchovy's eyes fell to the map, tracing the battlefields where Miho had been the past two months. "Don't worry, nobody expected you girls to know that. You were constantly in the move, going from place to place performing your mission. I actually like seeing how your crews trust you so much that they are willing to perform horrible acts just because you tell them to. But you can't expect the same degree of 'reliability', as the Board put it, from everyone else: they are, for all purposes, regular high schoolers entrusted in a situation they weren't supposed to face in the first place."

"What James said is true," concluded Anchovy, shoulders low and her gaze still fixed on the map, "We aren't sanctioned paramilitaries like the European academies. We are high schoolers. This whole thing is a mistake."

"You mean our fellow classmates have been forced to kill against their will here?" Maho was the first to shot back a question, a worried frown forming on her face. Anchovy, however, was quick to shake her head.

"Nobody has been forced to kill, at least. The Board knows of this 'issue', as they have called it, and chalk it up to politics intervening with operations. Our classmates often get the easy missions, if any at all, like garrisoning Alnus and Italica, which are considered safe zones, and routine patrols of nearby villages known to be safe. Luckily, there has been only one incident."

"Incident?"

"Yes... they sent a few of our girls in a routine patrol a week ago or so in what was considered a safe zone. Intelligence failed to notice a group of bandits had occupied one of the villages, and they attacked the patrol, likely trying to steal whatever they could find. The girls shot to the air and ran away, and were later rescued by the main group led by Itsumi-san. You know her, from Kuromorimine. As far as I know they didn't kill anyone, the bandits were dispatched by the accompanying European infantry, but the sequels remained." Anchovy took a break to sight, shaking her head. "Most went Section VIII soon afterwards and are travelling back to Japan as we speak."

"Section eight..." The two sisters casted confused glances at their blonde schoolmate, who had a worried expression on her. The grim face of Johnson didn't help improve their mood. "That's what they used to discharge American soldiers back in World War 2. Mentally unfit, or something like that."

"That's correct," intervened once again Johnson, kindly patting Erwin's shoulder, "The academies have adopted a unified code for all smaller contingents, including the Japanese girls. Section VIII is discharge for being declared mentally unfit for service. I think you can understand where I'm going with this."

"...I do," replied Miho, casting her gaze downwards.

"I have another question," Maho fixed her gaze once again on Anchovy, the Anzio commander responding with a short nod after a few seconds, "Why do you speak like this doesn't concern you? You are also a Japanese high schooler."

"That's because we are staying."

The reply shook the trio from the Vanguard Company. Maho raised an eyebrow, Erwin shot a surprised glance, and Miho raised her eyes in a strange face as she studied the serene expression on her fellow Japanese commander.

"You noticed how Anzai only mentioned the tank brigades previously?" Johnson interceded, receiving a thankful nod from Anchovy.

"That's because we in Anzio are staying. Unlike you, we have trained for this. Besides, airborne troops are scarce, and they are highly sought after by command for the upcoming operations. Even if we wanted to go home, I doubt they'll let us. In their eyes, we're similar to first year students of their academies, if perhaps a bit more relaxed."

"A lot more relaxed, you mean," chuckled Johnson on the side.

"Yes, yes, whatever."

Miho smiled a bit at the exchange but couldn't remove from her mind the topics in discussion. Were all her classmates in the brigades going back to Japan? Didn't that leave a few groups behind?

"What about Saunders? Kay isn't in the brigades, right?"

"Saunders has limited itself to logistics support and will remain in that capacity. Saint Glorianna is doing something similar, aiding with intelligence reports and funds," revealed Anchovy, shrugging, "Neither is going to fight actively, thus they haven't been pushed to leave, though the idea is popular with some. Someone in their schools' bureaucracy managed to pass this as extracurricular activities using applied knowledge, somehow."

"Then what about us?" Miho took a step forward, noticing how both her sister and Erwin took a step closer to her immediately after. "We are with the Vanguard Regiment. What will become of us?"

"Miho, haven't you heard?" Contrary to the entire conversation so far, this time Anchovy's face showed pure surprise, her body posture falling back into the chair as if contemplating the full scene in front of her.

"Haven't heard what?"

"The Vanguard Regiment has been disbanded. Your unit no longer exists."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I think you were a bit too harsh on her," was Johnson's comment after the two Ooarai and one Kuromorimine students abandoned the office, "She could barely stay on her two feet after that."

"Sorry, I may have overstepped a bit. But nothing I said was false." Anzai's poor excuse was met with a blank stare, making her sight. "Ok, ok, I may have messed up a bit..."

"In any case, I find it difficult to believe they haven't notified them yet. It's their own unit they're disbanding after all. How come you came to know it before them?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure the leadership of the regiment must already know. They are too high in the chain of command to not know."

"So, they kept the news from their own troops?"

"At least from us Japanese girls." Anzai's stare went to the spot on the map marked with a star. The label read 'Alnus Military Base.' "I only knew of it because I was near two officers discussing it. I thought the regiment itself would know. At the very least, Miho should've been told. She's basically an officer in there, isn't she?"

"I suspect it's Schroeder moving to finally dispose of the troublesome unit. He's proven a cunning fox, and likely has only told those whose loyalty he can buy so they can prepare their golden parachute."

"You are probably right. The raid on their Italica headquarters neutralized the regiment, and I doubt he wants something that unreliable in the upcoming operation." Anzai laid back on her chair, staring at the ceiling. "I still think it's the best that Miho leaves back for Japan soon. She's too pure to be in what's about to happen."

"Need I remind you she's been in this war longer than you?"

"I also know she hasn't faced a single near-peer opponent in it." Anzai threw a side-glance at her mentor, who looked proud at her. "I read the battle reports of her engagements, as well as all relevant battle reports in this war. Miho has basically only faced bandits, disorganized war bands, and small garrisons."

"What about Italica?"

"She helped defend a gate in the fortified wall. That's it. She didn't take part in the counterattack, nor did she engage the imperial reinforcement column. For all she knew, it could have been Coda all over again."

"And the expedition they didn't want you to find out?"

"She wasn't at Ligs. Clunia was a slaughter. It was the war equivalent of a walk in the park."

Johnson smirked.

"I thought you well. If only my nephews could learn a thing or two from you..."

"I learned from the best. And Kay clearly isn't interested in the military life."

"And I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. And Rick decided to live another lifestyle in the military."

"He's not a bad guy from what you told me."

"No, just reckless." James sighed, sitting in front of Anchovy. "Anyway, what's done is done. Should we go back to planning?"

"Yes." Anzai's serious stare returned, and she straightened herself on her chair. "There's a lot to cover."

"Be my guest."

.

XXXXXXXX

.

Miho's group abandoned the Japanese dorms engulfed in a heavy silence, not aided by the apparent downtime in the base at that time of the day. In the oppressive atmosphere they made their way back to their assigned barracks, the ones they shared with most long-time members of the Vanguard Regiment, finding themselves in a bench in the main courtyard.

Erwin left shortly after, arguing in favour of meeting with her team. She was undoubtedly going to share the news around. Maho let her go with a quiet nod, more focused on staying next to her younger sister and making her best effort to ignore how the quarters seemed way emptier than when they departed towards the Schwarz Forest, not three weeks ago. It had been a long three weeks, and the older Nishizumi sibling wasn't sure it was even remotely worth it.

The thought made her brain stop in its tracks. What was she even doing there? Well, obviously, protecting her little sister from danger, as she should've done since many years ago. But what were they the Japanese Sensha-do students, doing in Falmart? This was a matter they had no business tending to. They were civilians, for crying out loud! Why where they trying to fit in with teenagers from two oceans away, who were too busy role-playing as adults to give them the time of day?!

Her ruminations were put off for later when a known noise made itself present in the building. It was the assembly call, and it seemed to be directed at the entire regiment. Slowly but surely, most of the personnel that made up the light and heavy battalions in the Italica adventure appeared, forming up by force of habit as they waited for their superiors to appear and address them. It took a while to convince Miho to do the same, however, Maho succeeded in leading her towards her spot, on the leftmost group of the eleven companies that made the two-battalion force once known as Kampfgruppe Schmidt. She also managed to spot Erika Fëhring, once the security chief of Schmidt, now formed up with the detachment of the support battalion assigned to them in the midpoint between the troop and the spot in the front, where Schmidt had just appeared. Two steps behind him was Fritz, his aide, while to right was Boomfield, his executive officer, and to his left Grant, the light battalion's commander.

There was a spot between Schmidt and Grant. Maho guessed it was for the missing Louis Walker. She never got the details, she just heard that he and his crew fell on a Saderan ambush the night they retreated from the valley. Nobody had details, at least, nobody willing to share them.

Maho had barely reached her own place in the formation when Schmidt started speaking. Brief and to the point, he thanked the almost thousand members of the unit for their service and announced its disbandment, effective immediately, and that they would all report back to their original parent units. The German finished with the news that the original members of the unit, those who were in the original reconnaissance teams, would need to vacate the dorms within four days. The major gave a final thanks for their work until that point, bid them a farewell, and turned around, leaving at a steady pace towards the German section of the dorms, Fritz in his stead. Grant gathered the few Americans in the unit and made his way towards the American section of the base. The rest of the students, gazes lost at the suddenness of the announcement, could only whisper among themselves as they slowly began to vacate the place, heading towards their dorms or, presumably, to kill time in the refugee town while they digested the news.

In less than twenty minutes, an isolated group of Japanese girls and German boys were all that stood in the courtyard, still processing what had just happened. There was an empty feeling in their chests. It was like their entire struggle for the past two months had been for naught, their efforts discarded aside with the lightness of a feather. Be them from Kuromorimine, Ooarai, or a paramilitary German academy, they all had forged their bonds in combat and felt the same at the sudden loss of their larger group.

"What... what are we supposed to do?" Asked an uncommonly shy Saori, her steps short as she approached her leader and friend. "We have to move out from here? I-I don't think we even have a place in the Japanese dorms yet..."

If Miho, or anyone for that matter, wanted to reply at that, their chance was lost at the sudden appearance of a known voice.

"Miho Nishizumi?" Eyes darted towards the girl in the periphery of the group, where a familiar blonde from the Panzer Akademie clad in the female version of the uniform stood. It was Fëhring, who kept an iron mask of coldness on her face as she approached the younger Nishizumi, paper in hand. "Headquarters' dispatch. You and all Japanese girls will be transferred to the First Japanese Tank Brigade, of which you'll assume command until you are all sent back to Japan, sometime in the foreseeable future." Despite her words, a small guilty smile appeared on her lips as her eyes fell to the floor, likely feeling the weight of doing this. "You and your classmates will be rewarded by the academies in due time. Congratulations, your service in this war has ended." Fëhring made a small nod, removing her cap, not bothering to check the shocked students surrounding her. "Farewell, and should we meet again, I pray it's in better circumstances than this."

The German girl turned on her heels and left, a steady pace feeling like a clock's tics on Miho as her tired eyes followed her figure. Was that it? After all this time, that's how it was going to end? It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. It was the final nail.

It was over.

Everything went grey. Was there an issue in her eyes? She brought her hands up,but they were in their same pink colour as always. No, something else was going on. She raised her gaze again, looking around. Everything still was grey. What was it? What was going on?! She stared down again, only to see her hands dyed in red.

No, they weren't dyed. They were soaked in blood.

Anchovy's words ringed in her head. High schoolers couldn't simply go and kill on command as if it was a normal thing to do, right...? Right? Then what had she been doing for the last three months?! Had she not fighting a war out there?! Why was she even there, fighting in that damned conflict with people she didn't care about?!

'It was them or me...' or was it? Her mind made no sense anymore. Her vision got blurry, as dozens and hundreds of faces flickered through her eyes one after the other. Bloodied faces, deformed faces, pale faces. Dead faces. Of all the people she had killed so far. Of all the men she had ordered killed since the war began. Memories began running through her overwhelmed mind, recalling every instance of her seeing someone off to the death that came by her orders.

A disfigured legionnaire trapped under rubble in Clunia.

She could still see the rivers of blood of his remains as the town was engulfed in destruction.

A bloodied dark elf sliding down a tree trunk in the Schwarz Forest.

She could still see the branches break as the bodies fell out of trees, victims of the machine gun next to her.

A group of bandits blown to bits in the gates of Italica.

She could still taste the dust in her mouth as she approached the wall, her companions and classmates exhausted and dozens of corpses in the esplanade before her.

A thieve gunned down by the Germans in Coda.

She could still feel the dirt on her as she dropped to the floor, firing in panic at her sudden first combat in the new world.

The face of the man she shot in the face in Flanders.

She could still hear her classmates being raped and murdered.

The blood in her hands reached her wrists. Then her elbows. She stared down, and a sea of red that engulfed her feet stared back at her.

She fell to her knees.

"Nishizumi-dono?" "Miho-san?" "Miporiin!" "Miho?!"

A distant sound came, but she couldn't figure out from where. Was it people? Were they her classmates? Roth and his team? Perhaps her crew? Or none at all? Was her mind playing tricks right now? She was sinking in a sea of blood, what was real and imaginary anymore?

Her mind wandered back to Flanders. It was difficult to forget, especially with all the faces in the blood whose arms were dragging her down with them. They all said one thing: "Murderer." That, she was. She was a murderer. What else was she but that?! She had shot that soldier in the face in cold blood! What made her but a murderer?!

Flanders. Oh, how she loathed that word. It was where all started. A match that promised to be a highly competitive affair turned into a violent battlefield, with a death toll in the thousands. And she had actively participated in that. How many had she killed in that hill? At least a dozen, if not more. And her crew? Hana, Majo, Saori, Yukari... they could have run away and remain safe, but she had to get herself into the fight and drag them in to rescue her, didn't she? They became murderers as well.

Because of her. It was all because of her.

Gods. She was tired. So, so tired.

Someone grabbed her from her arm. She sprang into action immediately, shaking herself off the hand, only for several more to appear and try to grab her instead. She fought, tooth and nail, as the sea of blood that now reached her neck tried to drown her. It was when two cold hands grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her up that it finally happened.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Miho's mind had finally broke. After a long scream and fighting off for several more second, she finally folded and fell on the floor, dragging down Roth and Yukari, who were trying to hold her, with her. Worried eyes meet lost ones, as nobody dared to move or do anything to upset the silence that settled in the courtyard. The sun was setting over the horizon, and it took Roth a few seconds to gather himself. Quietly he ordered Miho's crew and sister to take her away to her room, as he tried to make any sense of what had happened.

"PTSD?" Asked Hans, forfeiting his helmet for a field cap, as he stared at the retreating form of his commanding officer.

"Drop the 'P.' I think it's because of this entire situation," muttered Roth, covering his gaze with his own cap, "At least I think so. I was never good at these things."

Inside the barracks, the last remaining officer of the regiment picked up a phone, dialled a number, and waited for a few seconds.

"This is Oberleutnant Fëhring from the Vanguard Regiment. I need a Section VIII withdrawal for Hauptmann Miho Nishizumi, Vanguard Company of the regiment. Yes sir, understood. Fëhring out."

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

War Room
D-Day +68

"What the hell is that?"

"The jam at the GATE. There's an exodus of Japanese girls trying to get out of here since yesterday."

"I heard there were some issues yesterday with the shipping of reinforcements. I guess this is the cause."

"I guess so too."

The two officers next to the window of the War Room muttered some more words, which went unnoticed in the wider room full of people moving up and down, sharing information and fine-tuning details for the upcoming operations against the Saderan Empire. Even so, despite the conversation being lost to them, not one of them was ignorant about what was happening: in a community as small as Alnus Base was, news spread like wildfire on a dry day.

It could be considered common knowledge at that point that Miho Nishizumi, the Japanese highschooler that had attained an official honorary rank in the Panzer Akademie and was the respected commander of the Vanguard Company of the homonymous regiment, had "finally" have an emotional break down, and was interned in the Japanese section of the barracks. It was long overdue, according to some of the wariest of the "outsider" to the European officer corps, while others took the news with full surprise, considering the girl perhaps the best leader in the entire Japanese detachment.

Be it as it may, the sudden collapsed of the former commander swayed a large portion of the Japanese detachments, who were now pushing to get out of Falmart and back to their country as soon as possible. Even Anzio's guards, who were trained to a standard accepted even by the most hardliners of the officers in the academic general staff, were powerless to enforce some semblance of discipline aside from preventing a full-on rout through the GATE, using as much their friendship and camaraderie as they used threats and force to aid the overwhelmed guards.

This, however, had the side effect of messing with the strict timetable of reinforcements and supplies that said general staff had established for the upcoming weeks in order to prepare for the following offensives. This was a source of problems that no one seemed able to overcome soon, as proposals raging from simply letting the students be and suspend all shipments to incarcerating all of them until the supply situation got regularized were thrown into the discussion.

It was, as one officer described it, a "shit show."

Despite the pause in the shipments, however, the staff was still advocated to the issue of drafting up a plan for their decided course of action, or at least one good enough for it to be accepted by the academic inspectors, the bureaucratic counterpart to the field generals, and then the adult commissions who were watching with an ever-present eye their combat manoeuvres. Work was slow, yes, but it was advancing.

"Have you processed the photographs taken by the Panavia's on the terrain?"

"Yes sir, they were already considered in the planning. The map in the draft is the latest update on terrain disposition we have."

"What about troop organization?"

"Accounting for the academic disparity, unit size, and expected enemy counterparts, we agreed on having the company as the basic tactical unit, moved around in battalions."

"Fits with whatever calculations made the operations department... what about resupply?"

"There's no suitable terrain for an adequate airfield near the mountains on the other side of the Dumas, sir, and building one near the future battlefield is a major risk. Resupply by air is still possible by helicopter or, well, airdrop."

"Talk about Market Garden..., or rather, Dien Bien Phu." Schroeder suppressed a sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he spoke back to the colonel briefing him. "Get me the latest intel report on Saderan troop movements and vectors of advance. We need the mobile battlegroup to be as quick as possible, we can't have it wasting time waiting for enemies to appear."

"Right away."

Schroeder looked around, eyes moving from one table to another as he took in all the discussions in the brains of the Academic Coalition. His biggest worry was the fact that most academic troops were mechanized, and several units were straight up armoured. Not a good situation for a static defence. It forced his hand to use all reserve infantry and, even then, overload the mobile element with armour, even if only in the initial stages (he could always reassign infantry of a defence to it after a portion of the Saderan army was defeated). With three possibly simultaneous axis of advance, however, all precaution was short of good.

"Sir."

"Report."

"Latest intelligence report suggests a pre-war Saderan army of roughly half a million men, including non-combat personnel such as bureaucrats-"

"Cut the crap. None of them is not fighting if in the field."

"...yessir. As I said, half a million men, perhaps slightly more. Most pessimistic estimates put the figure at 600,000 but is the upper end of the range."

"Go on."

"Keeping on with the half a million figure, intelligence estimates 25% will remain as garrisons to keep imperial control over the provinces and colonies. Other duties, such as customs and central bureaucracy, will tie an additional 30,000 men. Adding the men we have already killed or incapacitated, that leaves the 250,000 figure we came up earlier as the most likely figure. Of these, some twenty thousand would come from the Elbe frontier, a further sixty thousand from the west of River Rho, and the rest from the Imperial Capital or its surroundings."

Schroeder could hear the gasp from the surprised nearby officers. A quick glance sent them all back to work.

"Anything else?"

"Battle mages have been confirmed summoned. It's likely that we will face trained mages in the operation."

"I expected nothing less if there is anyone competent left in that empire of sorts..." Schroeder walked towards his desk in the far end of the room, attracting glances from fellow students as his aide called for attention.

"Attention, all ranks! Fall in!"

"Thanks," Schroeder nodded as he saw the officers and NCOs drop what they were doing and stand up, heels clicked and watching him expectantly. Their eyes were a mixture of emotion and anxiety, and the wrong words could cause all of them to lose morale at the adventure they were about to embark.

Sometimes, Schroeder wondered how he ended as the head general of the most elitist institution in the German web of military academies at the school level. He lacked the talent for speaking and spent most of his time inside four walls, working paper after paper. He couldn't remember a single time of him hitting the battlefield after his first year, not including mandatory training exercises once per semester, at which he often stayed in the rear. He never developed an impostor syndrome of sorts, at least, but it always made some of his peers look down on him because of it. Nevertheless, it was him who know stood standing in front of dozens of his military academic peers, with whom he would embark in his own personal "Great Crusade..."

He had to supress a smirk. Meller left a mess in his wake, but it was a plentiful mess, and he planned on using his pen to make the most out of it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have received the latest intelligence update on the capabilities of the Empire of Sadera. Most of us are ignorant on their true capabilities, yet we cannot allow the time to make a decision be delayed any longer. I will share with you what I know, and what I think."

"The estimated enemy size that will come against us has been estimated to be roughly 250,000 men, mostly regular humans, but also employing non-human mercenaries and auxiliaries, as well as the so-called combat mages of Sadera and their flying dragons. To this, we can oppose no more than 25,000 men. You heard it correctly: we are facing an enemy that surpasses us ten-to-one."

He could see people backing up a step. A few did two. He coughed in his fist, clearly not out of words.

"The plan is simple, yet the simplest thing in war is still complicated. Sadera will attack us in force, and we will respond in kind. Three defensive positions will be prepared to resist their onslaught, and a mobile battlegroup with our most powerful armoured formations will be there to encircle and defeat them in detail. The three axes of enemy advance are east, southwest, and west. Our static defences will be manned by five, three, and twelve thousand personnel, with the remaining five thousand in the mobile battlegroup. We will prepare everything so that no force will have to fight alone for too long, but you must understand that we will be against the clock the entire operation."

Schroder allowed the silence to stay for a few seconds before he spoke again.

"This will not be the park walk you had until now. Expect many of us to get injured. Many will likely die. Otherwise, we may retreat in shame, back to our academies, letting those who came before knowing they fell in vain. We will receive support from professional military, mostly in the air support department, but the main fighting will be carried out by us. There is no easy solution to this dilemma. Which is why I must know now: is there anyone who opposes this operation?"

He let the heavy atmosphere speak for itself. None voiced any complaint. Schroeder could feel his heart pumping to all its might: it was a good thing he knew how to camouflage it.

"Then it is decided."

He leaned over his desk, took out his favourite pen, and signed the piece of paper in front of him. Then he picked it up and showed it to everyone present, gauging their reactions to the written words in it. An audible gulp was heard, many gasp were felt, and he was sure someone snickered at the name. To be fair, it would be funny to him too if the situation were any less serious.

"From this moment, Operation Bulge is now officially approved and given the go ahead. Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your men. We begin at D-Day +90."

There was no going back.

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

Japanese dorms

An eerie silence surrounded the Japanese dorms as the three girls that lead Pravda High School met in their leader's room. Nonna and Klara watched one another as both stood in front of Katyusha, the small blonde sitting behind her desk playing with a pencil with the school's logo in it.

"A large number of students have already left Falmart. As of midday, the guards at the GATE reported dozens of vehicles, including 15 tanks, and at least 100 of our classmates have left thus far," reported Nonna, presenting a stoic face to her superior but a faint smirk to her rival in her attention, "Around half of those who left were from the support groups that our and other schools have brought. Of the tank brigades, those who left belonged overwhelmingly to the First Tank Brigade."

Not to be outdone, Klara jumped to the chance of having the final word before Katyusha could so much as thank Nonna for her troubles, a competitive spirit in her expression as she side-eyed her rival before speaking.

"I spoke with students in the first brigade, and their spirits are down on the floor at best. With both Nishizumi sisters out in the field, command fell on Kuromorimine's vice commander Erika Itsumi."

"I remember her. She was always behind the older Nishizumi," Katyusha's words worked well for Klara, as they aided in making her following statement stronger:

"However good she might be, she lacks the natural talent of the Nishizumis and has fallen short of the expectations put in her leadership given her school's reputation. It doesn't help that their brigade actually engaged in combat, as unexpected as it might have been, and we already know how many left afterwards despite not killing anyone. In a few words, the brigade is disintegrating."

"This is mostly a leadership issue. I heard that Itsumi-san practically disappeared after the news of the younger Nishizumi's collapsed, which helps explain why most of the tanks crews that left belonged to Kuromorimine. The Second Brigade under your command remains almost the same as a week ago, largely thanks to your presence among the girls. The crews from Pravda also help to keep girls from other schools under control."

Nonna sent a quiet smirk to her rival, Klara huffing briefly before redirecting her attention to their commander. Katyusha had discarded the pencil she was playing with earlier; her usual snickering smile replace with a deep frown almost covered by her bangs.

"Why the ruckus, then? While it's a lot, those numbers alone can hardly be the reason command is freaking out about the students leaving."

"I'm afraid that has to do with the disorganization, Katyusha-sama," replied Nonna, once again upping Klara in speaking first, "According to the guards, the issue is not so much the quantity, although it does impact, but the lack of orders, coherence, and priority."

"This might be due to a lack of clear leadership outside the Second Brigade, as we never bothered to establish a unified command structure like the Europeans did after Italica," Klara noted, a faint smirk being replaced as a frowning Nonna took a step forward and resumed talking.

"That is correct. The girls are forming improvised groups and driving to the GATE, trying to squeeze in-between shipments to return to Earth. Given restricted communications, the earliest they can contact someone to help them get back to Japan is when they reach Belgium. In the end, this results in a traffic jam on this side, as they must suspend shipments to let the girls pass or deploy military police to send them back to their dorms. If they manage to get back to Earth, they still block the road for a bit before they contact someone to help them."

Katyusha's frown grew slightly larger.

"Has command said anything about this matter?"

"General Schroeder has yet to opinion on the matter. Neither has the Board, for that matter," Klara intervened, a serious face replacing her earlier competitive expressions as the conversation went to the people on her homeland, "However, officers in the general staff have been injecting all kinds of suggestions into the debate, not all of them good for us. Many seem... unwilling, to differentiate between us, who remain in order, and those who defy discipline to get out faster. It doesn't help that the different countries have different ways to address this issue."

"And in private?"

Katyusha's question was directed at Klara. For once, Nonna refrained from saying anything to gain upper hand. Her leader's question was not aimed out of favouritism, but out of the knowledge that, as a fellow Russian, as a girl, and as a Russian girl, Klara had no issue mingling with the various Russian military students in the base, particularly the officers, who spared no effort to try and conquer the "beauty from the East", as she had been nicknamed.

"The Board has yet to see the issue in detail. The last thing I heard was that their priorities laid in finishing a draft of the final plan to present to the European authorities, so they have pushed the issue as much as they can. Some of my contacts have said that the two Russians in the Board aren't especially keen on keeping us here 'causing trouble' and have been pushing the adoption of some measures to contain the problems at the crossing."

"Such as what?"

"General Isakovich has proposed that the military police keep us guarded in our dorms until the supply situation stabilizes, sending us back in the trucks that return to Belgium after delivering supplies to not disorganize the timetable. General Belov, on the other hand, spared the sending us back part, happy with locking us inside the dorms until the operation begins and the GATE somehow frees up a little." Klara stopped to take air, a worried look on her face. "Both generals take for granted that, since we'll be out of the fight, they'll be able to purchase our vehicles and supplies to use them themselves."

"Nonsense. We aren't beggars to go selling our precious tanks to them!"

"Thay have taken the matter to the school principals and MEXT. From what I heard; they don't dislike the idea. They seem to offer a good premium for them."

Katyusha pouted and laid back on her seat, thinking. Nonna sent a questioning glance at her classmate, who simply shrugged in response.

"There must be a way to solve all these issues... every minute we spent talking like this, another of our girls is risking her freedom to go through that portal..."

"Katyusha-sama," spoke Nonna, staring straight at her commander. "May I suggest something."

A brief look of suspicion appeared over Katyusha, yet it disappeared quickly as she nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Most of these problems can be traced to the lack of organization among our classmates. However, if we manage to create a stable group, we could negotiate in better terms with the Europeans. At least, in a unified front, we can prevent them from going over us like they are planning to do, and we can organize the convoys leaving Falmart on our own in the times ordered by the general staff instead of hoping our classmates simply drive through the guard."

Klara nodded in support, albeit a short one. She clearly wasn't pleased that the idea came from her rival.

"And then what? Organization is good, even more so if it's under us, but we need more than... that..."

"Katyusha-sama?"

"That's it. That's what we'll do." Katyusha jumped from her seat and planted both feet on the ground, her small stature barely reaching halfway up the torso of her two underlings. "Klara, go and set me up a meeting with general Schroeder, for tomorrow as the latest. Nonna, go talk with the girls outside our brigade and asses their status. I'll do the same with the Second Brigade."

Nonna and Klara looked at each other with doubt.

"What for, Katyusha-sama?"

"We'll offer to organize the exit of those who want to leave. Then, we'll offer to join the fight. Schroeder will not shoot down the prospect of more troops to fight the imperials. To make the deal even sweeter, we will offer a detailed plan to assist Anzio in their parachute operation, so that they get to keep their precious European troops for themselves."

Nonne nodded in approval, a small smile on her lips. Klara was practically beaming at her leader's genius and didn't doubt in showering in praises.

"Excellent idea, Katyusha-sama! I'll go set up a meeting in no time!"

"Good. Let's go, girls. We have a brigade to save!"

XXXXXXXXXX

Medical barracks
A while later...

Katyusha's shouts and loud voice could be heard from the distance, permeating through the thin walls of the structure and seeping into the medical area of the base, not far away from the Japanese dorms. The mental image of the small blonde on top of a soapbox with a megaphone screaming at their fellow classmates made the older Nishizumi chuckle a bit, but it was hardly a noticeable one among the silence that permeated the building.

Maho was grateful, despite that. Katyusha was taking the place that she should've taken. However, as much as she knew she had a duty to help her classmates, the pain her sister was going through weighted more than any call to action from her fellow highschoolers. For that, she would be eternally grateful to the Pravda commander.

She also thanked in silence the dedication that her former vice commander, Erika Itsumi, had to aid her in a manner that almost resembled servitude. It made taking care of Miho much easier and took a burden off her and her sister's crew.

Miho was barely a shell since that fateful day. She was barely aware of her surroundings, if one were to be optimistic, she barely ate, though mostly handfed, and the only time she wasn't staring into space muttering gibberish was when she was asleep. Her Ooarai classmates tried several times to interact with her, few with any degree of success: only her team and Maho managed to get any reaction out of her, even if blinking eyes in silence were the only answer they would get most of the time.

The quietness surrounding the room was broken by the opening of the door, and the already familiar sound of field boots made the older of the two sisters understand that whoever had entered was not one of their Japanese companions.

Maho straightened her upper body in her seat, meeting face to face with one Erika Fehring. Maho had never stopped to think about the similarities between her former vice commander, and the who once was Schmidt's security chief: both had clear hair, had the same name, and even had a tendency for violence when angered (though, unlike Itsumi, Fehring seemed to at least refrain from childish tantrums). The memory of the match against Ooarai in the 63rd championship gave her a slight chuckle, one that quickly died down as Fehring's serious face stopped a couple paces from her.

The German girl handed Maho a few papers joined by a clip. Not without reservation, the older Nishizumi took them with wariness, her eyes immediately drawn to the "Approved" stamped with red letters on top.

"What is this?"

"A priority request for withdrawal under Section VIII."

"Section eight..." Maho muttered, her mind taking her back to the conversation with Anchovy a few days prior. "So, it has come to this..."

"I managed to land Miho into the highest priority I could, including one guardian. You can take her back yourself to Japan as soon as tomorrow with this order, in theory at least."

"Can you add the rest of her team as well?"

"It will be difficult. One companion is already hard enough to get approval for," explained the blonde, shaking her head. "This is more than most students get. Seemed fitting for the one girl that overcame all expectations put in her."

Fehring stared through the window. No one was outside.

"I would highly suggest you go back in the next few days. Traffic through the GATE is not slowing down anytime soon, and the sooner you make the request, the better chance they have to accommodate you in the transports."

"I understand." Maho thought for a few seconds, staring at the immobile officer. "How is the other side? Of the GATE, I mean."

"From what I've heard, it's like a giant warehouse. Full of equipment, supplies, and people moving around. Most of them screaming as well. Logistics officers are pulling their hairs off to meet the tight timesheet imposed by the general staff." Fehring sighed, slightly shaking her head. "It's an awful lot of work..."

"What do you mean?" Fehring stared down at Maho; her stoic face betrayed by a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fight?"

"They are preparing for a large operation. Will you not join them?"

Fehring shook her head softly, a sad smile slipping through her mask.

"I would like to. Love to, even. But they aren't that willing to forgive my past mistakes."

"Mistakes?"

"You surely remember my attitude back in Italica, right?" Maho nodded. "Let's just say, it didn't sit well with Herr Major."

"It's because of your hatred to Roth and Dietrich?"

"Well, there's that, but far from all of it. It started thanks to those two bringing up the Incident." Erika sighed and looked around, grabbing a chair and sitting next to the older Nishizumi. "I don't know if I told you this, but I lost someone in Kaliningrad too. My brother to be exact."

Maho nodded, allowing Fehring to speak. Schmidt had mentioned something like that back in Kaliningrad already, but it was the first time the girl in question had said it to her.

"He was... well, kind of the contrary to me. He had that easiness to get along with people, you see? When we first join the academy, before even get our officer ranks, the teachers make us form improvised teams and fight it out in a tournament format." Maho nodded again, understanding the example before Fehring stopped talking. "I sticked myself to a friend that former our team. My brother? Heh, Edward, from what I was told, had a sweet time convincing a lot of panzer personnel to join his team. Perhaps too many. His team got eliminated on the second match after they were led into a forest, where their rival's infantry wreaked havoc amongst them. The leader of that team? Take a guess."

Maho thought for a bit.

"Major Hausser?" Erika shook her head, her side smile staying in its position. "Major Schmidt?"

"Bingo." The Oberlautnant laid back on her chair, staring at the ceiling. "Well, there's more story than that, but it's not relevant. What I wanted to get at was that my brother, during the Incident, was part of Kampfgruppe Bittrich."

"Kampfgruppe Bittrich?"

"An ad hoc battle formation. Among the leading officers of that unit, there were both Hausser and Schmidt, who developed quite a good friendship after the ordeal... and, well, I guess I lashed out too much against them."

Fehring sighed, lowering her eyes until her gaze rested on Miho.

"Someone told me that my brother was under Major Hausser's command when he died. Even after I discovered it was not the case, my hatred still lingered... perhaps because I refused to let it go. I later learned that he was, technically, under Schmidt's command. By then I'd already spent a while under his command, so I couldn't really get that much angry at him... then Hausser reappeared, having that same superiority attitude she was famous for, and I kind of lost it."

Deciding not to stick to the sleeping form of the other younger sibling, Fehring took her hand to the canteen by her belt, taking a long sip before offering it to the older sibling.

"Thanks."

"To close the story," continued the blonde, "Hausser and Schmidt are close friends since the Incident, together with Weiss, and they always jump to protect themselves given the chance. So when I was clearly angry at Hausser being there at Italica, among other things... well, Schmidt likely decided then to kick me out of his unit."

Maho hid her thoughts behind the water bottle. She remembered Schmidt's words of transferring Fehring to another unit as soon as he had the chance, back in the Formal mansion. He seemed to have made good of his promise to himself back then.

"Well, that's the gist of it, I think..." Erika's words lingered in the air for a few seconds, likely regaining a foothold in her mind, "As for the aftermath of that... Schmidt apparently simply demanded that I get out of his unit, so I was transferred to administrative duty. It was under my supervision that a spy disguising herself as a reporter escaped, which, according to some, gave Schroeder enough of a excuse to disband the Vanguard Regiment. Being made a fool twice, I was kicked back even more to administrative duty, to the point where I don't expect to see combat for at least a year."

"... I see..." Maho found herself wondering what to do. The situation sounded so alien to her compared to everything that went down in her school...

"Don't worry, I reap what I sow. In this case, the seeds were of hatred and the fruit was payback to me." Fehring stood up slowly, dusting herself off some imaginary dirt. "Things may have played differently if we joined a civilian school. But I am a soldier, and I won't regret now the path that I chose back then. However, I feel like I will go back to civilian life after this." Fehring stretched a little, grunting. "I think this is not for me!"

Silence remained for a few more seconds, as Erika returned the chair to its previous position. Maho simply stared at her in silence. She pitied Fehring, in a way: she couldn't possibly imagine leaving Miho alone after all she went through. It was hard enough to have her transfer schools under their mother's stern gaze, but leaving altogether? Disappearing from this Earth in an incident for which there was never an objective truth to it? Forced to work under the ones you held responsible for that death? She could never wish that to anyone.

So, she opted to change the topic, before it became unbearable.

"What happened to the others?"

"You mean the rest of the regiment?"

"Yes. At least the ones we fought with."

The regiment had expanded way too fast after Italica. Maho resigned herself to not know how many people it had at its peak.

"Let me think..." Fehring, having ditched the chair, took a seat on the bed next to Miho's. "Well, most officers went back to their mother units. In fact, outside the light and heavy elements, such as Schmidt's kampfgruppe, most elements of the regiment were simply transferred to it, and thus were transferred back after the disbandment."

"That easy?"

"Smaller detachments with little changes didn't get much to do anyway. The Chilean company, for example, returned to its parent unit almost immediately. Same as most American formations. Hausser's recon battalion was an independent unit, and its status barely changed even inside the regiment. Weiss' pioneer's battalion was the same."

Maho couldn't help it to roll her eyes.

"What about the people we fought with?"

"Well... let's start with the officers." Erika took one of the papers in her pile, loosely reading it. "You know about captain Louis Walker, right? Of the Royal Armoured Academy." Maho nodded. She heard on the way back from Rondel how the officer and his crew were ambushed by undetected imperial guerrillas, ending with the captain and his loader dead. "Boomfield returned to his American academy as his exchange period ended, so now he's wearing the Amerikaner colours in Falmart. Schmidt took over a battalion of mechanized infantry thanks to his new rank. I assume you know of Petrakov?" Maho again nodded. Rumours of how the Russian went crazy were hot in the lips of bored classmates. "Yeah, he was sent back to Russia not long ago. That's about it for interesting things, I guess."

"What about the rest?"

"The rest?"

"The people who weren't officers?"

"Ah, them." Fehring rolled her eyes, putting the paper back in her pile. "Two from Walker's crew, including Petrakov's sister, are on the hospital right now. Somewhere in this building, I think. That's all I know about the enlisted. The rest returned to their original units, I think?"

Erika jumped to her feet and walked towards the door.

"Anyway, that's all the time I can spare. Farewell, Nishizumi, and I pray we meet again in better circumstances. Send me an email, perhaps I can arrange for a visit to Europe once this whole mess is over."

"I will. Thanks, Fehring."

"Don't sweat it. Keep the sweet words for the rest." The Oberleutnant opened the door, allowing the older sister to see the few people in feldgrau uniforms on the other side. "Goodbye, Maho."

She crossed the door, allowing the group to come in. Maho blinked twice: they were the three Germans in charge of the small squad of infantry that always went with them: Peter Roth, commander of the detachment, Hans Dietrich, leader of the assault team and Roth's second in command, and Heinz Feller, leader of the machinegun team. The three walked in silence until they reached the bed with Miho, awkwardly standing by the end of it.

"Good evening." Maho greeted them with a nod, her voice in a quiet volume.

"Good evening, miss Nishizumi... I mean, older Nishizumi... God, this is awkward..." Roth got a smack on the back of his head for his trouble, courtesy of Hans. Feller rolled his eyes, entertained, and Maho nodded along as a sign of goodwill.

"What brings you here?"

"Simply passing by, ma'am." Roth replied, straightening his back. "Bureaucracy is still sorting us out into our new unit, so we decided to come and see how our former commander was doing."

"I see." Maho sent a brief stare into Miho's sleeping form, only for a moment. "Not a good time to say your goodbyes, if that's what you came for. Miho is still asleep."

"We prefer it that way, if you'll excuse us." Maho raised an eyebrow at Hans' words, prompting him to elaborate. "We... we all saw her when she got that panic attack, yes? It... it may be awkward to present ourselves in full combat uniform to part ways. What I mean to say is..."

"It may be putting the patch before the wound, but we'd rather play it safe. Nobody wants something happening if it's preventable," explained Feller, taking over Hans.

"I understand." She truly did. She glanced at Miho once again, her face softening now that it was outside the three soldiers' view. "If you want to say your goodbyes, go ahead. We are leaving Falmart soon."

"Yes, ma'am. If you'll excuse us..." Maho put up her neutral face once again and turned to the three Germans, just in time to see the three click their heels, straighten her bodies, and salute the sleeping Japanese girl.

"Hauptmann Nishizumi, it was a pleasure fighting by your side in this weird three months."

"We fully understand if you never want to touch a weapon again, yet we pray for your recovery and future success in whatever you chose to do after this is all over."

"With any luck, we'll meet in far better circumstances than this in the future. But for now, this is a goodbye."

They lowered their arms, nodded at Maho, and turned their heels ninety degrees, leaving the room and the medical barracks at a constant step. Maho weakly saluted them back, staring at their back disappearing through the doors and, once outside, the courtyards and streets of the busy base.

And just like that, the sisters were alone once again.

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

War Room

Schroeder stared at the list in front of him. It resembled, though precariously, an order of battle, though full of surnames he rarely saw in his side of the world

"Can I assume this is what I think this is, miss Katyusha?"

"You can, general." The petite student talked with full confidence, disregarding how her standing stature was still smaller than the sitting officer. "It is exactly what you think it is."

"...why?"

"We can't let Nishizumi's efforts go to waste. This is not a decision taken lightly, I can assure you of that." The tank commander walked until she was separated from the general just by his desk, her confident smile faltering only a moment at the mention of the Ooarai commander. "Me and my subordinates talked with all of them. We assessed who was desperate to return, who wanted to fight, and who simply resigned herself to wait until a way back was open. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Organisation?"

Schroeder opened his mouth, but Katyusha beat him to it.

"Besides, we can't let our friends in Anzio doing all the work, can we?"

Schroeder's mouth closed, an impressed face as he regarded the girl in front of him.

"I trust that all the girls in this list are volunteers and understand what they're getting into."

"We made sure of it, general. And I know the girls in Anzio will appreciate familiar faces coming to their aid once they are in foreign territory."

"I think so too." Schroeder looked once more at the chart in front of him: Katyusha had indeed taken care of everything, from putting all the Japanese girls that still wanted to fight in a single formation with its own subdivisions, to grouping those who wanted to leave as soon as possible, arrayed in various group sizes pending the final form the evacuation would take.

It, frankly, made the whole mess on the GATE easier. It also gave him roughly twenty more highly mobile tanks, coupled with crews and supplies. It was an easy no brainer.

"It'll be a pleasure to work with you, commander Katyusha," he declared, standing behind his desk and extending his hand.

"Likewise, general Schroeder. Let's work together for final victory."

The deal was sealed with a handshake over the general's desk. Katyusha felt her smile widening, the anxiety she felt rising at the same rate as the emotion.

In only a few weeks, she was going to war.

.

.

.

I know, I know, this should've come out in March, but honestly, this semester has been so wild regarding academic duties that I'm just glad I finished this before July (semester ends in July down here in the Southern Hemisphere).

The chapter is almost fifteen thousand words, compared to the original's seven thousand, and same as the original, it was pretty fun to write. Honestly, the entire story should've been like this, or at least to a larger degree. Less fighting, more talking.

Now, despite this being the second to last chapter of the story, here is where we see Miho's arc come to a close. Yes, is not a pretty closing, nor is it fulfilling, but it was bound to happen. War is not a pretty thing, and she bore the brunt of it since the beginning, up to possibly (I won't bother to check) committing war crimes. And, as the Ao3 summary mentions, the Flanders Incident that sparked everything wasn't without its consequences.

Talking about the chapters compared to the original Spanish version:

Several scenes were remade, some even from scratch. Chief among these is the whole interaction between Maho Nishizumi and Erika Fehring, which was not only remade but expanded to include part of the latter's backstory and the German squad's goodbye; other remade scenes include how the general staff decides its course of action, how Katyusha makes the decision to continue the fight, and even who asked for Miho's Section VIII.

Talking about scenes not remade, but certainly fixed or improved, are the conversation Anchovy has with the Nishizumi sisters and the moment Schroeder decides to sign the operation. Finally, other changes include changing the topic of the conversation Risa Tsukamoto (the PSIA spy) has with her colleague, swapping the topic of who's to blame for Ars Goetia for how the Vanguard Regiment was disbanded, and removing a scene of the general staff in the middle of the chapter, which proved redundant with changes made to other scenes.

Anyway, that's about it, I think. Given the changes in schedule, chapter 13 of this fanfic will be delayed for August as the latest, so I can start working on the prologue of the Weimar Projekt, which I said would come out in March. Yeah, university really screwed my schedule this year. Whatever.

Anyway, read ya later,
RedSS.