Chapter Text
19th June 1925, Unified Calendar — Brest.
Parisi had fallen.
The proud heart of the Republic had been ripped out, and the Francois Army now limped on broken legs. On the far bank of the Rhine, the soldiers who stood triumphant wore not the blue coats of the Republic, but the dark green uniforms of the Empire.
And yet, even if the Empire’s tactic had been cowardly (brilliant, admittedly, but cowardly all the same), the Republic was not dead, not yet.
Pierre-Michel de Lugo stood on the port of Brest, the aroma of saltwater and coal dust filling his lungs as he watched the sons of the Republic march up the gangways. Row after row of patriotic men boarded the ships that would carry them far from their homeland, to the distant Francois colony across the sea.
“Colonel Vianto, how is the situation?” de Lugo asked the blonde-haired man.
“General, about ninety percent of our forces have boarded. You should embark as well.” Vianto replied.
De Lugo nodded, though his gaze drifted past the bustling port, past the cranes and chimneys, to the ivory façades and slate roofs of the city behind them, architecture unmistakably Francois.
We will return.
And we will liberate our Republic.
For many seconds, he allowed himself to memorize his country, the land he had served all his life, the land he was abandoning so that it might one day be reclaimed.
He turned to follow his men aboard when Colonel Vianto’s cry sliced through the air.
“What is this?! This is impossible!”
De Lugo halted. The sheer panic in his normally unshakable colonel made his blood run cold. “What’s wrong—?!”
Before Vianto could answer, a voice rang out across the sky, clear and gentle.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
The sky over Brest started to change from soft blue to holy yellow.
“The Devil of the Rhine!” Colonel Vianto shouted, glaring upwards.
De Lugo followed his gaze and froze.
A tiny figure was suspended in the air, haloed in eerie light, surrounded by seven Imperial mages like guardian angels.
De Lugo was stunned. The Devil, here?! Did the Empire discover our evacuation?! Are they here to erase us completely?!
He quickly regained his composure, the lives of many men were at stake here, so he yelled.
“Colonel Vianto, how many mages do we have on hand right now?!”
“A full company, General. Requesting permission to intercept!”
“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
“Permission granted!” de Lugo barked.
He knew the order was tantamount to a death sentence. Vianto was a capable mage, one of the best remaining, but against her, against the Devil, skill barely mattered.
Vianto ignited his flight spell.
At the same time, the second sun bloomed in the bright yellow sky.
“For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
“ah…”
That was all de Lugo managed before the descending radiance swallowed the world.
Heat slammed into them like a collapsing star.
Vianto’s teeth clenched as he threw up a shield with every shred of power he possessed. For a moment, it held.
Then the cracks appeared.
It started small, then spiderwebbing from the center outward. The light started searing through the cracks, carrying boiling heat with it.
De Lugo watched the colonel’s back, watched the trembling of his shoulders, and felt a cold certainty settle in his gut.
This is it. This is how we die.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!” Vianto let out a war cry, half to show defiance and half to make himself remain conscious, as more and more crack of the shield showed itself, torching away his clothes. His gloves burned away, then his coat, then his shirt, how much had his skin burned was de Lugo’s guess.
Then the blinding light faded, slowly, the world regained its color.
De Lugo blinked through the haze, coughing smoke from his lungs.
Vianto still stood. His blue uniform was reduced to charred scraps. His breath was ragged and shallow. His entire body trembled, but he did not let himself fall.
De Lugo, miraculously, also remained upright and somewhat untouched with only hints of burns across his face and uniform, thanks only to Vianto’s shield.
The same could not be said for the rest.
Beyond them, the port of Brest had been torn open. A trench gouged through the docks, swallowing warehouses, piers, and men alike. Several evacuation ships, once crowded with the Republic’s last hope, had vanished into the chasm or been reduced to flaming hulks drifting on the waves.
The stench of burning wood, oil, and flesh filled the air.
De Lugo stared at the devastation, horror clouding his mind.
The Imperial mages descended, led by a girl with blonde hair.
“Pierre-Michel de Lugo.” a man beside her called out, likely her second-in-command. “You may choose to surrender. According to the Treaty of Worms, you will be treated as a prisoner of war.”
De Lugo knew.
He knew he had lost. Surrendering was the rational choice, it would allow him to live, to fight another day, to rebuild—
…When?
The Republic was crippled. Its bravest men had vanished today, swallowed by the Devil’s radiance or lost beneath the collapsing port. There would be no ‘later’ for him, he would likely be imprisoned in a long term to avoid him going back to rally the populace.
He inhaled sharply, as if the scorched air itself could harden his resolve.
No.
He would do his duty as the soldier of the Republic until his last breath.
He stepped forward, facing the approaching Imperials. His eyes fixed on her. The girl with the yellow eyes who had struck them down as casually as one might swat an insect.
In that moment, Colonel Vianto acted.
With a dying gasp, Vianto hurled himself forward, using the last of his life to create the smallest sliver of chaos, a momentary distraction.
Which gave de Lugo an opportunity, he drew his pistol and leveled it at the Devil’s heart.
He never got the chance to pull the trigger.
Something pierced through his heart, strength fled his limbs, his pistol fell to the ground with a click.
He stared down at the spreading red across his uniform before lifting his gaze.
The girl with blonde hair held a smoking rifle, her eerie yellow eyes stared back at him emotionlessly like his life didn’t matter.
General Pierre-Michel de Lugo collapsed to the ground at the same moment Colonel Vianto’s body finally gave out, the two loyal soldiers of the Republic falling side by side.
30th June 1925, Unified Calendar — Leipzigk.
Tanya von Degurechaff stepped into the grand courtroom. The chamber’s vaulted ceiling was adorned with banners of every major power on the continent.
Arrayed before her were the judges. Imperial, Albish, Francois, Ispagna and just about every European nation, including Dacia, sat on the position of honors.
The clerk’s voice rang out, firmly:
“The accused stands before this tribunal on formal charges of crimes against peace, specifically the unprovoked assault on the Francois city of Brest mere hours before the armistice was to take effect.”
Murmurs rustled through the gallery, journalists, diplomats, and soldiers whispering behind gloved hands. Many eyes settled on her: Some Francois and Legadonian looked hostile, while every other looked at her with no obvious emotion.
Tanya remained still, chin raised slightly, expression unreadable. She knew what this trial was. The Empire needed a scapegoat to escape the world’s enmity, so she became a convenient villain for a war everyone was desperate to close the book on.
And so here she stood, a lone figure before the assembled powers of Europe, accused of disturbing the fragile peace the world was already trying to write into history.
The irony did not escape her.
Why was she the only one tried when she was the one who ended the war?
But alas, crying about it was pointless. She needed to think of a way to escape the charges…or escape the country.
Tanya was escorted to the center of the tribunal floor. Countless staring eyes were pressed down on her small frame. Each step felt longer than it should, her stature making the path to the defendant’s podium seem almost exaggeratedly drawn out.
She climbed the final step and faced the judges.
“How do you plead?” the presiding judge asked, his voice echoing through the silent hall.
Tanya lifted her chin, spine straight, eyes cold.
“Not guilty.”
A restrained murmurs passed through the courtroom. Some of the judges exchanged glances. Others scribbled notes. The Francois delegate’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, as if he had expected her to grovel rather than stand firm.
The presiding judge folded his hands.
“Very well, Major von Degurechaff. Your plea is registered.”
He paused, eyes narrowing.
“You understand the severity of the accusations before you?”
“I understand them perfectly.” Tanya replied, her voice firm despite her size. “I also understand that they are unfounded.”
Another murmur moved through the gallery, this one tinged with irritation. Tanya ignored it. She had dealt with generals screaming in her face, artillery fire overhead, and Being X’s smug interference. A room full of self-important bureaucrats didn’t even rank.
The judge nodded to the prosecution bench.
“Then let us proceed.”
A Francois prosecutor rose, his uniform immaculate.
“Members of the tribunal, today we address the actions of a single Imperial officer whose reckless aggression led to the unauthorized assault on the city of Brest mere hours before the armistice was set to take effect.”
He gestured toward Tanya.
“An attack that cost thousands of lives, military and civilian alike.”
Tanya’s eyebrow twitched.
That was the problem. When she had used the curse orb, her mind went blank, she had only known later that her shot with Elenium Type 95 had killed civilians. It was the most damning thing she had on her, but if she played it right, she could frame it as those civilians harboring forces that seek to disturb peace.
The silver lining was that the orb was now locked behind the safe somewhere in Berun.
The prosecutor continued. “Before I present my prosecution, I want the court to look past the facade of the little girl. While she is indeed at an age where adults were largely responsible for her actions, I assure you that she is fully aware of what she’s doing and committing them willingly, as seen before in the Massacre of Arene, where she was present.”
He held up a folder thick with copied reports.
“According to this Imperial document, the method used to weaponize fire in urban environments was authored by her own hand. Further records indicate—”
The prosecutor went on and on, trying to get everyone to not look at her like she was a little girl.
Tanya, incidentally, was wearing civilian-style clothes: a white one-piece dress. While this was humiliating, she was willing to do anything to maximize her chance of leaving this court alive.
After about an hour or two of him presenting evidence that, yes, Major von Degurechaff was smart and had a mind far advanced than those of her age as shown in her various exploits and writings. Yes, Major von Degurechaff had mental problems as shown in the Legadonian National Mental Evaluation’s result. Yes, Major von Degurechaff knew full well what she was doing and possibly enjoyed it as shown in the distorted and grainy footage that would make the image of Lochness look like a documentary in 4K, the prosecutor finally got to the point of this trial.
“Major von Degurechaff stands accused of willfully violating ceasefire agreements, undermining the peace process, and committing crimes against the very stability this tribunal seeks to restore.”
He planted his hands on the table.
“She stands accused of sabotaging peace, as agreed upon by the Francois Republic and the Empire. I will now show you the footage inside the computation orb recovered from the Brest’s Massacre.”
The projector shown from the orb showed the POV of a Francois soldier that had yet to board the ship. For a moment, the scene was mundane: men shouting, crates being carried, engines roaring.
Then, suddenly, the yellow light came down with no warning.
From how the orb was still moving slightly after the light had faded, it seemed the soldier was still alive by the end, but just barely. There was a small bit of smoke floating upwards on the right side of the footage.
It took a few seconds for some to recognize that the smoke originated from burned flesh. A collective sense of horror gripped the room. Those with weaker stomachs turned away. Others maintained diplomatic stoicism, but their eyes gave them away.
The fact that the orb wasn’t burned and destroyed implied that the soldier was standing to the side of Tanya’s attack.
Murmurs spread across the court until the judge called for order.
The prosecutor’s voice resumed, now with righteous indignation.
“As you can see, there was no warning and no demand for surrender. The attack was instantaneous. This demonstrates the defendant’s blatant disregard for the rules of war and her desire to continue the senseless violence.”
Tanya’s brow furrowed.
The Francois’s ships had already left the port, if she had attacked any later, there would be some who could escape. The thought of the General being in one of the ships and he escaped to continue the war in the South was what forced her to attack immediately instead of calling for surrender and let the Francois stalled for time by using their mage company. So with the time constraint and the need to annihilate everything in a minute, she had used the Elenium Type 95 immediately when faced with large targets of about forty medium-sized ships.
She was sure that that wasn’t a mistake, given the lack of information on her part, but now it was a bullet against her that she had no clear counter to.
The judge turned to her.
“Major, do you wish to respond?”
Tanya’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
“Of course.”
She stepped forward.
Her defense lawyer, Otto Stamer, shot a look at her that says: Don’t say anything scandalous.
Tanya made a slightest nod, she wouldn’t make a job difficult for the defense lawyer that Colonel Lehrgen recommended her.
“Honorable members of the tribunal.” she began, “I would like to address the accusation leveled against me: that I intentionally ignored the rules of war. Given that the armistice was not yet in effect, the Francois Republic and The Empire were still engaged in active hostilities. Under such circumstances, engaging enemy forces is not a violation of international law.”
A ripple of murmurs traveled through the audience chambers, but Tanya pressed on.
“Furthermore, protocol dictates that a call to surrender is unnecessary when doing so would place the attacking force in undue danger. My flight consisted of eight mages. General de Lugo’s force was, if we are using accurate terminology, an entire army. It is self-evident that demanding their surrender before striking would have compromised the safety of my unit.”
She clasped her hands neatly behind her back.
“As for the accusation that I attacked a Francois city purely to prolong the conflict, I must firmly reject that claim. If General de Lugo’s army had been allowed to escape intact, they would have remained operational. A mobile and organized force of that scale could easily have reignited the war.”
The prosecutor seized that moment.
“You don’t know where General de Lugo intended to go. For all the tribunal knows, he may have been attempting to return to Parisi to help maintain order during the transition. Your assumptions about his intentions are speculative at best.”
The judge nodded, “You may respond, Major.”
Tanya inclined her head with impeccable military politeness.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
She took half a step forward.
“With respect to the prosecution’s point, I must emphasize that command decisions in wartime cannot rely on optimistic assumptions about the enemy’s intentions. They must rely on evidence, probability, and the responsibilities entrusted to the commanding officer.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“General de Lugo had mobilized a significant portion of the Francois forces, boarded transport ships, and attempted to break past Imperial lines. These are not the actions of a man returning home to maintain civic order. They are the behaviors of a commander attempting either to regroup or to prolong resistance.”
A few members of the Albish delegation exchanged glances.
Tanya continued, “Moreover, even if the prosecution’s hypothetical were true, a force of that size returning to the capital during a fragile transition would hardly ‘maintain order.’ It would destabilize it further. An army is not a police force.”
She let that settle.
“As an officer of the Empire, my duty was to end hostilities as swiftly and decisively as possible to prevent additional bloodshed. Allowing a fully armed and organized enemy army to sail freely would have been a dereliction of that duty.”
The prosecutor opened his mouth, but the judge raised a hand to silence him.
“Major, the tribunal will consider your strategic justification. However, intent remains central to this inquiry. Were you aware the armistice was imminent?”
Tanya’s mind raced, but her expression did not shift an inch.
“Yes, I was aware an armistice was being negotiated at the time. But as it was not yet ratified, the only responsible action was to continue fulfilling my operational orders.”
She folded her hands behind her back once more.
“To assume peace had arrived before it was formalized would have risked countless additional lives. I chose the option that ended the conflict with the least possible bloodshed.”
A wave of whispers swept the benches.
The judge cleared his throat.
“Very well. The tribunal will proceed to the next point of inquiry.”
Tanya breathed out silently through her nose.
So far, so good, she told herself. At the very least, I haven’t dug my grave any deeper.
But the trial was far from over.
As the second and third days of the trial dragged on, the prosecution continued to pile on his accusations. He circled back again and again to the civilian casualties in Brest, pulling reports, witness statements, and reconstructed data from the aftermath. Each statistic was presented with implication, likely he expected her to break her composure.
Tanya sat in silence through it all. She wasn’t permitted to speak during this phase, but her defense attorney, Otto Stamer, proved far more competent than she had initially hoped. He was calm and polite, he objected whenever the prosecutor grew deliberately vague or slipped into melodrama. Whenever the prosecutor tried to paint hearsay as fact, Otto was there to cut in with a precise phrase, a correction, or a request for clarification that forced the man back onto solid ground.
For a while, Tanya felt genuinely optimistic.
Public sentiment, from what she could see in the observers’ gallery, leaned toward condemning her. That much was expected. But among the judges? The landscape was less certain. The Francois and the Legadonian representatives wanted her head, no surprise there. The Albish seemed inclined to agree. The Imperial, at least on the surface, were maintaining the facade of impartiality. And then there were the unexpected ones: Dacia, Rumeli, and even Ispagna. Their reactions, quiet mutterings, and the way they questioned the prosecutor suggested they were not entirely convinced by the narrative being painted.
It was difficult not to feel a spark of hope.
Yes…she could win this. Or at the very least, survive it without her future being entirely compromised.
That hope lasted, until it didn’t.
1st July 1925, Unified Calendar — Leipzigk.
After the proceedings of the second day finally concluded, Colonel Erich von Lehrgen arrived at the holding room where Tanya and Otto were reviewing documents.
“Colonel.” Tanya saluted.
Lehrgen returned the salute, his hand holding a folder.
“Major von Degurechaff,” he said, stepping inside. “Otto.”
Otto offered a respectful nod. Tanya studied the colonel’s expression. It was controlled, but taut around the eyes.
Something was off.
Lehrgen set the folder down on the table. Neither Tanya nor Otto moved to open it. The colonel remained standing, gaze fixed on a point somewhere past both of them.
“Major,” he began, voice low, “I’ve just come from a consultation with the Imperial delegation.”
A consultation. Tanya didn’t miss the careful choice of words.
Otto straightened in his chair. “Is there an issue with the proceedings?”
Lehrgen exhaled slowly. “The issue is that this trial is no longer merely about you or the incident in Brest. The political climate surrounding the armistice negotiations is…delicate.”
Tanya’s eyes narrowed just slightly.
Lehrgen continued.
“There are factions within the tribunal who believe that leniency toward an overstepping officer would set a dangerous precedent. They argue it would undermine the legitimacy of the armistice. The Francois delegation is adamant on this point.”
So were the Albish and Legadonian, no doubt.
“And what does the Empire argue?” Otto asked.
Lehrgen hesitated.
“We,” he said at last, choosing each word carefully, “must demonstrate our willingness to cooperate with the tribunal. The Empire cannot appear to obstruct the pursuit of justice. Not now when we still need time to recover both domestically and diplomatically.”
Tanya felt a cold chill run down her spine.
Lehrgen continued. “His Imperial Majesty considers stabilization of relations the highest priority. If the tribunal reaches a particular conclusion, the Empire, regrettably, cannot contest it without jeopardizing the fragile peace.”
Silence fell.
Otto spoke first, his tone steady but edged. “Colonel, are you saying the Empire is preparing to accept a guilty verdict?”
Lehrgen didn’t nod. He didn’t shake his head either. He merely placed his gloved hand on the folder and slid it toward Tanya.
Inside were the implications he was not permitted to voice.
“This contains guidelines for the post-verdict administrative handling. Provided the tribunal reaches a decision they consider satisfactory.”
He paused.
His gaze flicked towards Tanya, just for an instant, but long enough for her to understand exactly what he could not say aloud.
The Kaiser wants you to accept it. Your sacrifice will keep the Empire from further enmity.
Then, more quietly:
“The Empire is proud of you, Major. That has not changed. But the circumstances…” He stopped, looking suddenly older. “They demand prudence.”
Tanya’s fingers brushed the folder. Her face was unreadable.
Otto leaned toward her. “You don’t have to agree to anything without reviewing it.”
But the truth hung in the air unmistakably.
She had been offered up on the altar of diplomacy by the Imperial crown.
Lehrgen cleared his throat, “I apologize for the timing. But it was necessary that you heard it from me.”
Tanya forced a small neutral smile, though her mind roared like artillery fire.
“Understood, Colonel.”
Because what else could she say?
The greatest war mankind had ever seen just ended. The military was no doubt under close scrutiny at the moment, there would be no one who could help her. Even her 203th, while capable, could only do so much as act as witnesses for her and nothing more.
Damn it!
Outwardly, she remained calm, though her smile was straining.
“May I ask what is the common consensus for my verdict?” Tanya asked.
Lehrgen was silent for a moment and then he said, “The Albish seemed inclined for life imprisonment sentence, while our belligerents, summary execution.”
Otto looked tired all of a sudden. “Is there a room for appeal, Colonel?”
Tanya looked at him, is this lawyer trying to go against the crown for her?
Lehrgen shook his head once.
“The Empire cannot push back at this moment. Not without risking a collapse in negotiations. If we’re perceived as shielding Major von Degurechaff, the Francois delegation will walk out, and the Albish have indicated they would support additional sanctions.”
Tanya felt a familiar pressure settle inside her: the feeling of inevitability.
Like watching an artillery barrage creep closer and realizing the range tables were wrong.
Being X forbade a tribunal actually apply logic or justice. Being X’s wretched universe always saved its worst curveballs for her.
She drew in a slow breath.
“Understood.” she repeated, voice calm. It made Lehrgen flinch.
Otto leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Major…even so, we can still fight the narrative. If there’s even one judge who wavers, we can—”
“We will try.” Lehrgen said. But there was no hope in it.
For a while, no one spoke. The ticking of the wall clock filled the room, each second cutting into her dwindling future.
Tanya finally broke the silence.
“What does His Majesty expect me to do? Confess? Accept the verdict with dignity?” She let a thin bitter smile twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Sing the national anthem on the way to the scaffold?”
Lehrgen winced. “The Empire will request the most lenient option the tribunal is willing to grant.”
“And if that option is life imprisonment?”
“Then that will be our position.”
Tanya looked down. Life imprisonment. In some foreign prison, cut off from everything, stripped of rank, duty, and identity after everything she had bled, fought, sacrificed.
And if the tribunal sided with Francois or Legadonia?
Execution.
A clean and simple end. Convenient for everyone but her.
“Major…we still haven’t begun our defense. Don’t think that the bottom line is life imprisonment yet.” Otto said the words with professional steadiness, but it was very clear that neither of them truly believed them.
“Otto.” Tanya said quietly, cutting through his forced optimism, “You’ve done admirably. More than I expected anyone could, given the circumstances.”
She offered him a thin smile, a strangely gentle one. “I sincerely hope you have a brilliant career ahead of you after this. Defending a war criminal is not exactly the sort of case that propels one upward.”
The self-deprecating phrasing was deliberate. A joke at her own expense.
But beneath it, she meant what she said: Otto Stamer deserved better than to be dragged down with her. He was capable, he was just thrown the worst curveball like her. His possibly greatest defendant and he would fail spectacularly. It would be a great stain on his record.
Lehrgen stiffened a bit.
Otto stared at her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh.
“Major,” he said, quieter now, “if nothing else, I’ll fight to secure you an exile sentence.” He paused, forcing conviction into his tone. “I refuse to let them put you in a hole for the rest of your life.”
Tanya raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, surprised by the steel beneath his normally polite professionalism.
He must have wanted to lessen the stain on his record as much as possible.
“Very well.” she murmured. “If exile is the ceiling we’re aiming for, then let’s see how high we can climb.”
Otto gave a firm nod, as if anchoring himself to that sliver of possibility.
Otto Stamer was, at his core, a man of law.
He had earned his doctorate from the University of Lostock.
After he had passed the second state examination for a junior lawyer, he was introduced to one Erich von Lehrgen, a connection that pulled him up and made him rise faster than the others. Lehrgen quickly made him his first point of contact whenever a legal matter arose.
Not that the man called often. Lehrgen was a disciplined officer within an even more rigid military; the worst he typically needed was clarification on whether some obscure statute, likely drafted decades ago by a bureaucrat named John who then promptly forgot about it, still applied to whatever he was planning.
So when Lehrgen summoned him urgently, saying he required Otto’s legal expertise “for his job”, Otto was looking forward to what he had.
What he didn’t expect was that he had to defend a national hero. A figure Otto had assumed existed purely as a propaganda symbol.
An eleven years old girl called Tanya von Degurechaff.
Otto was not a fool, the Empire had won and yet one of its most celebrated officers was being tried, like actually tried. What she had done must be really terrible.
He thought to refuse Lehrgen, but then he said:
“Look, Otto, She’s…she might not be right in some parts, but it is because of her that the war had ended in the Empire’s victory. If she had let them get away, god, I don’t want to think about that. Please Otto.”
If there was one thing that could shake every human’s heart: it was injustice.
What she had done may have been terrible, yes, but sometimes the cost of peace outweighed the cost of a single atrocity. Otto did not subscribe to the idea of “evil for the greater good,” not in theory. But in practice? If Lehrgen’s implications were correct, then thousands had died instead of millions. A horrifying bargain, but a bargain nonetheless.
And there was the additional truth Otto dared not admit aloud: had the war dragged on for even one more year, he would have been conscripted. His law degree left to gather dust while he marched off to become another nameless casualty. He loved the Fatherland, but not enough to die for the illusions he saw through so easily. He knew war was nothing like the romanticized pictures plastered across patriotic posters. He could read between the lines, it was quite literally his job, after all.
So the small girl who stood before him was, in a sense, his savior. The savior of countless other Imperials as well.
That made him accept Lehrgen’s request.
Days passed.
Tanya, as he quickly learned, was sharp. She caught flaws and potential defenses before he did, pointed out angles he had not considered, dissected the prosecution’s arguments with the calmness of a seasoned attorney.
Perhaps she had once wanted to be a lawyer. Perhaps that dream had been crushed the moment the Empire decided that all mages would be thrust into the front lines. So she volunteered, choosing the manner of her chains before they could be forced upon her.
In the court, the more he noticed the discrepancy in the prosecution, the more he was convinced of this truth in his mind.
Tanya von Degurechaff had done it to end the war.
When Lehrgen had come with the veiled order from the Kaiser that Tanya von Degurechaff must die, he had nearly lost his composure.
When the girl looked at him as if she was worried that he would get caught up in her affair.
She looked less like a soldier and more like a little girl who’s acting brave for her father.
That fragile and resigned smile shouldn’t ever belong to any girl’s face.
Where was justice in all this? What had become of the Empire’s proud claims of meritocracy? Its promises to reward service, loyalty, sacrifice? How could the nation dare to punish its own savior with death?
In that moment, Otto made a vow.
He would make this girl live on, though his heart wanted to get her acquitted but his mind knew that it was impossible. The best he could realistically secure was exile.
So exile he would get..
If no one else in the Empire would stand for her, he would.
In a world where bullets didn’t fly, this was the battlefield he could fight on. And he would fight it to the very end.
5th July 1925, Unified Calendar — Leipzigk.
The sixth day of the tribunal, and the third day since the defense was allowed to present its claims.
They were losing.
No matter how hard Otto fought, no matter how sharply Tanya corrected the prosecution’s interpretations, the tide simply would not turn. Every argument felt like a stone tossed into a rising sea, swallowed before it even caused a ripple.
No, what Tanya did to the citizens of Brest was unfortunate, but not a war crime. They were harboring hostile forces, who could say they weren’t hostile forces themself? No, de Lugo’s force was overwhelmingly superior, the fact that Tanya could blow them away in one blow didn’t change the fact that, on paper, any general would assume that thousands of soldiers would overpower eight mages, so a call for surrender was unnecessary. No, Tanya wasn’t a psychopath. The Legadonian Mental Test was just that sensitive, the Empire’s own evaluation was more believable, and she scored fine at the war college. No, she did not revel in killing; the fact that she once drafted a theoretical method for efficient extermination meant little. Many officers wrote similar documents. Also, she was just following orders in Arene, to shoot the soldiers who declared themselves on the Francois side in the middle of the siege. No, an insane Francois rambling about her being the Devil was totally uncalled for, she was always seen praying piously, wasn’t she?
Or the witnesses: Yes, Major Degurechaff cared for her subordinates, she is of noble character. Yes, as her second-in-command, I’ve learned a lot from Major Degurechaff, she is the type to follow the laws to the letter. Yes, Major Degurechaff attended church at least once every week, she is a pious person.
“I notice.” the Imperial judge said, peering down over his spectacles with a stoic expression, “that all of your witnesses are members of the famed 203rd Battalion. Your battalion, Major.”
The murmurs in the gallery swelled. The implication was clear: loyalty, not truth.
Otto did not flinch. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of his papers, but his voice remained measured. “The defense calls General Hans von Zettour to the stand.”
Zettour took his place with calm. He inclined his head in polite acknowledgement before speaking in his steady tone.
“It is true that Major Degurechaff has, on this occasion, acted without the immediate approval of her direct field superior.” he began. “However, the 203rd Battalion reports directly to the General Staff. As such, Major Degurechaff possesses a degree of operational autonomy, and I personally granted silent authorization for her actions. One could therefore argue that she was in fact following the intent of her higher commander.”
Otto allowed himself the smallest breath of relief. A commander of Zettour’s caliber framing her actions as sanctioned, even tacitly, was invaluable.
Zettour continued, folding his hands behind his back. “Regarding her character, Major Degurechaff is exceptionally intelligent, highly disciplined, and unwaveringly dutiful. She does not break regulations. She does not deviate from established doctrine. And she certainly does not disregard the law.”
The Imperial judge sent a look at Zettour.
Zettour ignored it and simply continued.
“And besides, hypothetically speaking, if the late General de Lugo had intended to flee to the Francois colonies, the bloodshed would have continued indefinitely. Preventing such a prolonged conflict was, of course, the General Staff’s priority”
The prosecutor prodded calmly.
“General de Lugo’s intent remains unverified, General. There is no evidence he planned to flee.”
“As I said, a hypothetical, but a highly probable one.”
The Albish judge cleared his throat, clearly eager to cut the exchange short before it strayed further into politically explosive territory. “Thank you, General Zettour. The tribunal will take your statement into consideration.”
Zettour bowed.
As he stepped down from the podium and passed behind Tanya’s chair, he allowed himself a quiet whisper. “I’m sorry. This is all I can offer you, Major.”
Tanya made a slight nod, the General Staff was in an awkward situation, caught between the Kaiser and one of their most valuable soldiers, so they could only speak facts. Just venturing into hypothetical got Zettour a disapproving look.
It looked evenly even on the surface, this wasn’t good. If they had condemned her to life imprisonment, there would be a few disapproving looks, but none would object to it because no one wanted to, or at least, the one who wanted to had no real authority (Thank you, Visha, but please listen to Weiss. Don’t threaten the Francois judge.).
And before long, she would be forgotten in the mind of the public.
The closing arguments.
Tanya would have to gain considerable grounds over the prosecution in the closing arguments.
6th July 1925, Unified Calendar — Leipzigk.
The potentially final day of her trial.
Both sides had laid bare their evidence, paraded their witnesses, clashed over interpretations of law, morality, and military necessity. Now came the part that would echo in every newspaper from Berun to Londinium:
The closing arguments.
The finale, if you will.
The gallery was packed, far more than on previous days. Officers in uniforms, journalists in formal clothes, foreign observers in suits, all gathered here.
Tanya sat straight-backed as always, hands folded neatly on her lap, her expression unreadable.
Otto stood beside her, reviewing his final notes. He did not need them; he had practiced the argument a hundred times, torn it apart, rebuilt it, and memorized every line. Still, his fingers lingered on the papers.
Across the room, the prosecution team whispered among themselves, shooting occasional glances at Tanya.
The judges entered.
Everyone rose.
The Albish judge’s voice announced: “The tribunal will now hear closing statements.”
A hush fell instantly over the room.
The prosecutor was granted the floor first. He walked to the center. He bowed to the judges, then turned toward the gallery, letting the silence grow thick before he spoke.
“Honorable judges.” he began, his voice ringing out crystal-clear, “we stand here today not to question the Empire’s victory, nor to diminish the sacrifices made by its soldiers. But victory does not erase crimes. And sacrifice does not absolve atrocity.”
Otto felt Tanya’s posture stiffen beside him, barely, but enough.
The prosecutor continued.
“Major Tanya von Degurechaff stands accused of acts that go beyond military pragmatism. Beyond the necessities of war. Acts that violate the very moral fabric of the Unified Alliance. She is a child only in age, not in culpability. The destruction at Brest, the massacre at Arene, the termination of retreating soldiers, these actions must be judged not by the strategic guidelines, nor by battlefield efficiency, but by the principles of humanity.”
His gaze flicked toward Tanya.
“We do not deny her skill. We do not deny her role in shaping the outcome of this war. But a hero on one field may still be a criminal on another. The law must remain impartial, or it ceases to exist.”
Some in the gallery nodded. Others shifted uncomfortably.
The prosecutor then got to the point of the closing arguments, he started with the testimony of the Francois witness whose civilian husband was killed during the attack on Brest.
“Madame Aline told this court that her husband worked at the docks. He was not a soldier. He did not carry a rifle, nor did he raise arms against anyone. He was a laborer, a simple man who hauled crates, repaired nets, and earned just enough to put food on his family’s table.”
He let the words settle.
“She recalled how, on the morning of the attack, he had risen early, as he always did, kissed her cheek, and promised he’d be home before sundown. And yet…” His fist curled into a strong grip as if he was feeling wrath. “He never returned. Not because of his own choices. Not because of any danger he knowingly walked into. But because the defendant ordered a strike that, by every available report, fell upon civilian areas with full awareness of who lived and worked there.”
Some murmurs rustled through the gallery; the judge lifted a hand, and the room quieted again.
The prosecutor continued, voice lowering.
“She asked only one thing of this court: that her husband’s death not be dismissed as collateral…not be reduced to a footnote. She asked that you recognise what happened to him, and to so many others, for what it was, a preventable tragedy, born of decisions made by someone unsuitable to command.”
It was a calculated move, the prosecutor was clearly trying to gain sympathy and subsequently, made them pay more attention to what more the horrendous monster that caused such grief had done.
And it worked. With the pain of a widowed civilian freshly rekindled, the prosecutor then widened the scope.
“And this,” he declared, turning toward Tanya, “is but one tragedy among many.”
He then continued with the mild fact that Tanya had disobeyed the ceasefire order from her direct superior, painting her as an unruly soldier. He then showed her records from the War College, and painted her as an intelligent person that reveled in killing, by pointing at her paper: The Use of Firestorm in an Urban Warfare and her action in Arene. He painted her as someone who not only understood the mechanics of destruction but delighted in perfecting them. An intellectual who treated warfare like a game. A prodigy of annihilation.
“And this,” he said, lifting his hand toward the military police on the witness stand who hold the computation orb, “is how she applied that brilliance.”
Then, using the same computation orb that recorded the attack on Brest to show that, although she had the power to annihilate them all in one attack, the Devil didn’t even offer mercy by calling for surrender, instead brutally killing them by burning them alive. He didn’t touch on General de Lugo’s intention with the assembled army, but subtly implied that he was directing his army to Parisi and left that to interpretation.
Finally, he stepped back, clasped his hands, and bowed slightly.
“That concludes my statements, honorable tribunals.”
The courtroom held its breath.
Now it was Otto’s turn.
Tanya stared at him, she had done everything she could, half of the words on paper were her words, with Otto reviewing it so it appealed to the press’s emotional parts.
She would be the first to admit to not being proficient in appealing in a soft way, she had always favored the tough love approach.
Improve or begone, that sort of thing.
Otto walked to the center of the courtroom. Bowed to the judges. And prepared to speak for the life of a girl the Empire wished to discard.
Otto began by returning to the foundation of Tanya’s life, a point the prosecution had conveniently glossed over. “From the age of nine, the defendant had no family but the uniform on her back. The military did not simply train her; it raised her, clothed her, sheltered her, educated her. Her superiors were not merely officers. To her, they were fathers.”
He paused, letting the tribunal sit with that image.
“And I ask you, what child wishes to disappoint her father?”
He didn’t push the sentimentality too far, but the implication lingered. A few members of the gallery glanced at Tanya, small, impeccably dressed, hands folded neatly before her, and their expressions softened despite themselves.
Humiliating as it was to lean on her appearance and age, Tanya knew she needed every advantage she could get. Otto knew it too.
He pressed on.
“According to every military record available to this court, Major Degurechaff never once disobeyed regulations. Not once. Even the Arene engagement, which the prosecution insists on presenting as entirely her initiative, was an order that originated from the General Staff itself.” His tone darkened. “If there are villains in this story, they are not seated beside me.”
A faint ripple passed through the audience, not agreement, not yet, but the awareness that perhaps the story was not as clean-cut as the prosecution wished.
Otto shifted to his next objective. “I will not insult this court by pretending that war does not claim lives, nor will I waste your time by arguing that casualties are anything but tragic. But I ask you to look, truly look, at the person before you. A soldier who, since childhood, has been conditioned to believe that duty is survival, that obedience is virtue and that hesitation is death.”
He let the gaze remain on Tanya who wore an innocent white dress, before moving on.
“Now,” he said, sliding to the heart of the issue, “let us address the attack on Brest.”
He recounted, carefully, General Zettour’s admission that the General Staff had again given consent for Tanya to be deployed there and that the supposed ‘innocent intentions’ of General de Lugo were anything but innocent when examined collectively. “As we compile the evidence, a single and undeniable conclusion emerges: the late General de Lugo was not seeking peace. He was positioning himself to continue a war that every nation, every soldier, was ready to end. He was prepared to spill more blood, not out of necessity, but out of wounded pride.”
Silence hung over the gallery. If the defense could not win the argument outright, they could at least redirect the audience’s anger. Paint the other side as the darker villain. Sow doubt and plant sympathy.
Once the emotional groundwork was laid, Otto shifted gears.
“Now for the matter of law, military regulations explicitly state that an officer is not required to offer terms of surrender if doing so would jeopardize allied forces. In this instance, hesitation would not merely have endangered her comrades, it would have ensured their deaths. The enemy had every intention of shooting her down ‘like flies,’ as one report phrased it, in order to prolong a war their pride could not bear to lose.”
He turned another page.
“As for the civilian casualties, responsibility lies with the late General de Lugo. He knowingly positioned his forces within a populous district, purposely using innocents as a living shield. Major Degurechaff may have pulled the trigger but de Lugo was the man who placed the innocents in the line of fire. He is the one who made their deaths inevitable.”
He let the words resonate. For the first time since the trial began, no one in the chamber dared to cough or whisper.
Otto stepped back from the podium.
“That is the truth we ask this court to acknowledge.”
For several long seconds, the tribunal chamber remained frozen in the wake of Otto’s closing argument.
The Albish judge, seated in the center, adjusted his spectacles with a motion that revealed nothing of what he was thinking. To his left, the Ispagna officer shifted in his seat. To his right, the Francois judge, the one who had glared at Tanya throughout the trial, tapped a finger against his armrest as if weighing something heavy and unpleasant.
Finally, the presiding judge cleared his throat.
“The tribunal now gives the defendant the right to make a final statement.”
Tanya stood up.
All eyes were on her.
Her simple white dress fluttered though there was no breeze.
She bowed her head politely.
“Honorable members of the tribunal, I will keep this brief. I am a soldier of the Empire. I have always served under orders, according to regulation, and with the sole intent of ending the war as swiftly as possible. That is all any soldier can do.”
She lifted her gaze.
“I understand the pain my actions have caused, everyone I had killed had friends. They had a family. I know what my action entailed. War is never clean. It is never kind. But had I chosen hesitation over duty, had I chosen sentiment over strategy, this conflict would have continued. Countless more would have died by the hands of those who wished to prolong it.”
Her expression remained calm.
“If the tribunal believes I acted out of malice, then I will accept whatever judgment you render. But if I stand condemned today, let it be for following the very laws and orders I swore to uphold.”
A small nod.
“That is all.”
Tanya sat down.
Silence reigned in the courthouse.
The presiding judge shuffled a few documents, though it was obvious he didn’t need to read them.
“The tribunal will recess for deliberation.”
A firm rap of the gavel echoed.
As people stood, the gallery erupted into hushed murmurs, some sympathetic, others hostile, most unsure. Reporters jotted frantically in their notebooks. Cameras clicked. Soldiers filed out with discipline.
Tanya did not move immediately.
Well, she thought dryly, that went better than expected. Or worse. Hard to tell.
She exhaled, rising from her seat as two military police approached to escort her back to the holding chamber.
The moment she stood, the rustling in the gallery intensified. Some looked away quickly, unable to meet the gaze of the ‘Devil of the Rhine’. Others stared openly, as if expecting her to sprout horns on the way out.
Tanya ignored all of them.
If the tribunal is rational, I walk free. If they’re emotional, I get a bullet or a rope. And if Being X has any say…
Her eye twitched.
No. Stop thinking about that. Don’t give that bastard an opening.
As she walked toward the door, Otto caught up to her briefly. His voice was low.
“You did well, Major. Now we wait.”
She gave him the slightest nod.
“Let’s hope, the tribunal values reason.”
Tanya murmured, thinking of what she had told Visha to prepare.
Because if they don’t…I might really have to shoot my way out.
The recess lasted an hour.
Sixty minutes in a dim holding chamber where Tanya sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, staring at a peeling patch of paint, pretending she wasn’t listening for the footsteps that would decide her fate.
When the door finally opened, two military police stepped inside.
“It’s time.”
This is it.
Tanya rose, smoothed her dress, and followed.
The walk back to the courtroom felt longer than any march she had ever endured. Her boots, or rather, the borrowed shoes they had given her clicked quietly against the floor. Each steps felt like a countdown.
When she entered, the gallery was packed again.
She was led to stand before the bench.
The judges filed in moments later, their expressions stoic.
The Imperial judge spoke first, voice firm.
“This tribunal has reached a verdict.”
The Francois judge folded his hands demurely.
The Ispagna judge’s eyes flicked briefly toward Tanya, was that sympathy or pity? It was hard to tell.
The Imperial judge continued.
“Major Tanya von Degurechaff, you are hereby found guilty on the charges presented before this tribunal.”
The gallery erupted, gasps, murmurings, a few triumphant whispers from those who had come seeking a villain.
Tanya’s spine remained straight.
On the inside, something cold uncoiled.
Guilty.
Of course.
Of course.
There was never anything she could do, was she?
The Kaiser had ordered it himself, there was no way a simple soldier, no matter how decorated, could change it.
The Albish judge raised a hand for silence.
“However, in consideration of military necessity, the circumstances of the war, and the testimony presented, the tribunal does not deem the death penalty appropriate.”
The tumult in the gallery wavered.
The Francois judge spoke next, his voice held a hint of anger, but only a hint:
“As such, the tribunal sentences you, Major Degurechaff, to exile within the territory of the Suomi Republic. Your place of confinement will be the island of Hailuoto, where you shall remain for the duration decided by the Imperial government and the Suomi authorities.”
Exile.
Not execution.
Not life imprisonment.
Exile.
Where?
A frozen rock in the far north.
Tanya felt her knees loosen half a centimeter, never enough for anyone to notice, but the relief that hit her was sharp and nauseating. A victory, technically. A survival, narrowly.
She bowed her head.
“Understood.” she said simply.
The gavel struck once, final and absolute.
“This tribunal is adjourned.”
The judges rose. The gallery erupted again, reporters surging forward, soldiers blocking them. Some shouted that the sentence was too lenient. Others whispered that it was too cruel for a child.
Tanya stood there in the center of the storm, small and composed.
This is fine.
I’m alive.
Being alive is step one.
I’m not going to die.
She felt Otto approach beside her.
“Exile…We did it, Major. It isn’t freedom, but it’s life.” He said.
Tanya glanced up at him.
“Thank you, Otto.”
Otto’s eyes widened when she looked at him. The gallery, a moment earlier a storm of voices, began to quiet.
What?
“Ah…”
There was a single tear rolling down her cheek.
She felt it only when it reached the corner of her jaw.
Maybe she feared death more than she thought, it was irrational, she had died once already, the question of what lied beyond death was already answered, but was it human nature to cry because they felt immense relief?
How childish, she thought, annoyed with herself as she lifted a hand to brush it away, only for another tear to fall. And another. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes refused to obey.
After about twenty seconds, her uncooperative lacrimal glands finally stopped producing the liquid that caused her great embarrassment.
By the time she managed to wrest control back from her own body, the courtroom had gone utterly still.
Only the faint click of cameras and the soft scratch of pencils across paper broke the silence.
She straightened her back, blinked the last sting of moisture away, and faced the room with all the dignity she could muster.
“Goodbye, Major. May God be with you.” Otto said, he meant well, but she had several issues with that statement.
She didn’t say anything back.
The military police came to escort her once more, this time not to a holding chamber, but toward transport preparations.
As she walked out of the courtroom, the flood of flashes, shouts, and stares washing over her, one thought echoed louder than the rest:
I will live on.