Panzer Commander Quest #8

Normally all threads before this have gone to archive before the next, but that is not the case with this, so I'll just put the archive in the next thread, and have the direct link below. Obviously, the running of the other thread is done, not that you can't cast votes for nonsense anyways, there just won't be much point.

>>>815487

Or I'll just nut up and start putting them on suptg.

>>844080
How many tanks do they have around here? If it's more than 10 I'd say take one with the men but if it's less just get some resupply and rest and be on our way

>>844080
Take enough crew that we can man our two tanks with actual tank crew.

>>844080
It's not like we have a lot of that special ammo, so no point in many tanks. Let's just requisition the best gunner we can find and some additional crew.

“We’ll keep our footprint low,” you decide, “I don’t expect to run into any conventional enemies that we’d need a platoon’s strength for. We’ll replace the holes in our manpower with trained crew and head off as soon as we’re stocked and fueled. I’ll trust you two to handle that for me, yes?”

“Yes, my lord.” Kreuze said before Metzeler. “My lord” was a bit of a funny thing to call a fellow noble; Kreuse must have been of a different social strata. It wasn’t unheard of for them to become tank commanders, but the middle class often preferred the artillery or other sectors lacking in glory but much less influenced by the courts. The only nobles who liked the guildsmen and shop owners were the nouveau riche, who had not long ago been among their ranks and could rely on antique bloodlines to elevate them above other men.

You exchanged your partings and you left to find where your crew had gone. The enlisted naturally had commons and dining areas apart from the nobility; they resided in a camp close to but not upon the Von Blum Manor’s land, a brisk walk away from Regimental HQ.

Supper was being served to the enlisted, and the halls were alight with the glow of celebration. Booming laughter tossed about the space, and dozens of songs mingled with one another across the tables as tall glasses were filled and drained with spiced wine. This was a far cry from how you’d seen the enlisted at the academy. There, the crews rarely spoke to each other in such boisterous fashion, and were largely listless even when it came time to do exercises.

It was relatively simple to find your crew among the mass; Malachi’s insistence on wearing the silly scarves and goggles that hid his face made him easy to pick out of a crowd, and where he was, the rest of your crew certainly was also.

As you headed towards them, wary soldiers stepped out of your way, but otherwise did not register your presence. Stein noticed you near immediately as you closed.
“Hey, commander!” he shouted, “They’ve got wine! Real wine! This is amazing!”

Strossvald was not a nation that spoiled its soldiers. Cheap draughts that tasted more of dishwater than alcohol were a luxury among the common soldiers, and even the nobility was not given special treatment by the long logistics trains required for Strossvald to maintain her military strength. To provide this amount of wine, especially of this sort (not a respectable vintage or a prestigious vineyard, but still good wine all the same) was unthinkable, even in the capital where the Ducal Guard was lavished with gifts from the central government.

“Do you want any?” your gunner asks, holding an empty glass aloft; a thick tumbler, not made for wine but apparently the glass of choice here. You wave your hand no. “Suit yourself, then.”
“Don’t get too carried away, we have work to do tomorrow,” you tell your crewmen. They agreed noncommittally.

“I don’t mind if I don’t get too drunk,” Hans said, pointing at the plates in front of them. “Look at this. Either I’ve gone crazy or the Von Blums are the best nobles I’ve ever met. Just look, God, Damn, Steak. Fresh and hot, not stone cold jerky. Whole boiled potatoes, fried bread, I think I’m about to cry.” Your radioman, who had been bitter about having his job taken by Maddalyn and forced into the loader position, was far gladder about this food than you’d seen him behave about anything.

While hardly as scarce as wine, king’s servings of fresh meat were another thing not common to military kitchens. Stew was the prevalent item on the menu most of the time for anybody ranked below Major.

“Isn’t Malachi going to have anything?” you ask, noticing that your driver hadn’t removed any of his facial apparel. “Surely you aren’t dedicated enough to the masquerade that you won’t eat?”

Malachi made a strange, short whistling noise at you that must have passed for a response wherever the hell he came from. As far as you knew you couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t some sort of evil spirit as well, that fed upon confusion of communications rather than souls. Your disguised driver holds up a satchel that clanked with the sound of a tin mess kit, heavy with stowed food. It would seem he would eventually go elsewhere.

“Surely this wasn’t always like this,” You comment to your gunner, describing the air of a festival in the dining area.

“I asked about that actually,” Stein said, pausing to eviscerate a potato, “They said that things only really kicked up about a month or so ago. Double, then triple, then these rations. The Von Blums must have been impressed with their service.”

“I can only imagine how good you have it if this is how they’re treating us,” Hans said through a mouthful of red meat, “Lucky you!”

While your own arrangements turned out to be quite good, they were not nearly as excessive by comparison to the typical as the enlisted’s were.

You personally would not have selected them as guests to your table, but as Von Metzeler and Kreuze were the only officers you knew here, and Maddalyn was at work on something beyond your knowledge up in the manor, you would rather have had them than be alone.

Besides, there were things to discuss.

“This is rather suspicious to me,” Rondo Von Metzeler said with his classic hard tone, spooling a length of feather light noodles around a fork idly. He hadn’t even eaten a single bite of the feast. “I would complain to the upper echelon that the resources spent throwing parties could be much better used elsewhere. Railway security, for example.”

“Moral is important this close to the border with the Grossreich,” Kreuze suggested. He ate like a man starved. “Especially with the Kaiser’s recent rhetoric, it must be necessary to keep the men wishing well of you. Dissatisfied soldiers could spell the disaster of the entire nation if they compromised the security of the Imperial Gate.”

“I suppose.” Von Metzeler prodded the noodles with an inquisitive tongue, but the sauce was not to his taste. “Blegh. It stinks of Delsan cheese. I still think this combined with the attitude towards separatist militia is suspect. Even if they only became troublesome recently, their very existence would offend the Archduke greatly. What do you think, Von Tracht?”

>Something is definitely strange, we’ll have to look into it. This isn’t a place where things should be strange. Aside from ghost monsters, those are normal by comparison.
>It is odd, but it isn’t our business. We aren’t high enough on the ladder to do anything even if we knew.
>I’m sure there’s perfectly valid explanations for all this. The Von Blums have held the gates since the nation’s birth, who are we to question their methods?
>Other (Write In, questions are compiled outside of voting)

>>845736
>Something is definitely strange, we’ll have to look into it. This isn’t a place where things should be strange. Aside from ghost monsters, those are normal by comparison

>>845736
Something is definitely strange, we’ll have to look into it. This isn’t a place where things should be strange. Aside from ghost monsters, those are normal by comparison.

>>845736
>Something is definitely strange, we’ll have to look into it. This isn’t a place where things should be strange. Aside from ghost monsters, those are normal by comparison.

Have any of you notice any signs of preparations to a possible attack by a tank battalion? Or a counterattack?

If I was Von Blum, I would've tried to find and destroy the separatists before they have the time to train up tankers. A tank battalion and training ground is not something you can just hide in a forest.

“Things are strange enough that we should continue to investigate,” you try to keep your discussion quiet, “Our current mission is odd, but it at least isn’t a threat of national security.” Von Metzeler and Krause, like you, got blown off of a train; they in particular escaped from the very train that was ambushed with all the military equipment on it. “Where would you hide a whole battalion’s worth of equipment?” you ask them.

“It doesn’t need to be hidden if nobody’s looking for it,” grumbled Von Metzeler.

“Nobody has to look very hard for that much materiel if it’s stored in one place,” Krause replied with a stabbing motion with a fork. He began mixing bits of the food together, in some vague demonstration, “If I were them, I would split it up all around. I doubt they would keep more than a couple of pieces in each hiding spot. The militia group they opposed, their name was the Shields of something, they mentioned having a home base. They could also be using this home base. There’s a great many hiding places, if they plan on moving slowly.”

“I wouldn’t move slowly if I were them.” Von Metzeler stabbed at a chunk of turnip absentmindedly. “The longer they wait, the weaker their position gets. Even a force as lax as this will take some preparation just by knowing something is out there.”

The dining room was clearing out, and some bored passersby were beginning to come towards you, hoping to meet new people to share wine with. Not a suitable situation to be discussing these plans.

“We will meet again in the morning,” you dismiss them quickly before heading off yourself to the quarters you had been assigned.


Your dreams were haunted by the demons of the day. You met your unearthly foe on a blurry field, ready to slay it once and for all. Your orders failed to leave your thoughts, though, as your voice was choked and silent, and you and your vehicle sat idle while the dark thing ahead charged towards you. The coiled arms of the demiphantom peeled the armor of your tank apart like an overripe fruit, and when you looked to your crew they were all shadows, sitting mindlessly as the terrible beast ripped you limb from limb.


Until that morning you could always dismiss such matter of nightmares as the idle fancies of an agitated mind. This morning, however, you somehow couldn’t convince yourself of that as you washed yourself. You gave a message to an attendant patrolling the halls beforehand telling them to summon your crew and officers; you would depart sooner rather than later.

As soon as you exited your quarters, an attendant hailed you.

“Lieutenant, you have been summoned.” He said, “Lady Maddalyn Von Blum is waiting outside of the building.”

Bright and early, you notice. You mentally prepare yourself for explanations of sorcery and souls that you wouldn’t even try to begin to understand beyond their practical relevance.

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You did not mentally prepare yourself for the sight of Maddalyn dressed in a tank crew uniform that appeared several sizes too large for her. She already looked more than youthful for her age, but the oversized tunic made her look like a child dressing up in their father’s clothes. You could smell a hint of something vaguely sweet as well. One of the fall blossoms must have started flowering.

“So um…” Maddalyn trailed off, “Uh, What do you think? I figured that if I’m going to help you I should look more the part.”

You didn’t know what to think. One part of you said “ridiculous” while the other wanted to say “adorable,” knowing full well either statement wouldn’t be favorably received.

“Good morning, boss!”

Coming to your aid is possibly the worst counsel on how to speak to women, your gutter minded crewman, Hans. “Turns out Malachi and Stein don’t rise with the sun, so we’ll be by ourselves for a little bit. Who’s this?” He points at Maddalyn’s back, and you’re not sure whether to take him seriously, since there aren’t exactly many people on the estate who look like Maddalyn. As far as you knew none of her female relatives were as stunted as she was.

“Hans, please.” You say, exasperated already.

Hans stepped closer, but stopped next to Maddalyn with a puzzled expression. He sniffed, momentarily baffled, at the air before looking at Maddalyn with humorous glint in his eyes, “Woah, honey, aren’t you a little young to be wearing that kind of fragrance?”

Maddalyn blushed a little, “What do you mean ‘that kind?’” she said defensively, “I-I just like the smell!”

Hans cocked an eyebrow and said nothing for a moment. “I rate being actually spoken to now? When did that happen?”

Maddalyn only looked away with a huff.

“Boss, let me talk to you about something real quick,” he pulled you not all that far away, “You gotta give that girl a reality check before she starts stinkin’ up the tank with some Love-Me Lavender or whatever crap she read out of a magazine. I’m fine with not talking to sack flickers on the phone. I’m not fine with the tank smelling like a newlywed’s bedroom.”

“Sack flicker?” you echo. You decide to not mention that she can’t read magazines.

“She’s way too young for me to be comfortable with that nonsense. You aren’t into that, right? She can’t be older than…fourteen?” He looks at Maddalyn and calls to her, “Hey, how old are you, anyways?”

Maddalyn replied in a frustrated tone, “How old do I look?”

Hans smirked at you and elbowed you, as if demanding you answer. You know exactly how old she is, and she does not look her age. At 23, she’s actually older than you are.

>How rude, Hans, you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age
>More like twelve, if you ask me
>She looks her age
>Other

>>845845
>How rude, Hans, you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age
>*whisper* She's older than me

>>845847
Seconded.

>>845845
>How rude, Hans, you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age

>>845845

It's a fair question.

“How rude, Hans, you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age.” You whisper in his ear, “She’s older than me.”

“Commander unless you’re actually two kids standing on top of each other I don’t believe you for a second.”

“My combined age is just over the service requirements.”

“Alright, I get it,” Hans threw up his hands, “There’s worse things to complain about. If anything big ends up happening though, I don’t want to die with the scent of a soap shop in my nose.”
His complaints were noted.

Soon enough the rest of your allies trickled in. It took some bartering to get the republicans back in; despite you not planning for their continued assistance, in the process of covering for why they had military property in their possession they had been unofficially conscripted.

“So then,” you counted everybody, “where are we going?”

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There was a facility hidden in the mountains to the north of the city. It escaped notice more because of its remote position than any attempt to seriously conceal it.

“It’s in a hollow between two peaks of a mountain called the Crown Spire. It’s near the bottom, thankfully. We can reach it by going up the northern road and then going off it somewhat into the mountains, between the two small peaks.” Maddalyn explains.

“Can you point it out on a map?” you ask. She glares at you. “Sorry, not used to it quite yet.” You try to cover for yourself.

“Not used to what?” Kreuze inquires.

“Nothing. Still, we should be able to recognize it just by looking, right? We get you close enough and you know where it is anyways.”

“That’s right.” Maddalyn affirmed, “There’s a trail big enough for your vehicles to go on. It isn’t obvious, but it is flat land, so it should be good enough, right?”

The m/28 and m/32 were Naukland designed tanks built for its rough terrain with wide treads. Cross country maneuvers were of little issue for them. The car might be another story, you’d see when you got there.

All in all any plans were minimalist and simple. Go there, figure out what to do there, then when all was said and done, leave. Most of your comrades’ only real task was to prevent your mission from being interfered with by separatists.
You all assembled in your vehicles and were soon headed north. Despite Hans’ fears, Maddalyn’s perfume was barely noticeable over the normal oil, sweat, and metal, and you all wallowed in this familiar filth.

“Richter,” Maddalyn called to you, “There’s a notice coming over the radio.”

It was a good thing the numbers on the radio dials were embossed otherwise you would have had no idea how she could operate it. You tell her to go on, then.

“There’s some kind of fight going on in the street in the north of the city. At the Star Cross roads. They want anybody close by to assist.” Her tone becomes more serious, “It’s a request from the Grossreich’s Embassy, and they say their ambassador is in danger.”

“Rebels?” Stein wonders aloud.

“Why would the rebels want to attack the imperial ambassador, Stein? They want to join the Reich, not piss them off.” Hans criticized your gunner’s theory.

>He’s on our way anyways, say that we’ll help
>The Reich can get stuffed. We’ll avoid the fighting and go another way.
>We’ll maintain course, but we aren’t stopping. We aren’t beholden to the embassy.
>Other

Sorry for the delay, had another thing going on.

>>850946
>He’s on our way anyways, say that we’ll help

Wouldn't want to cause a diplomatic incident or something

>>850946
>He’s on our way anyways, say that we’ll help

“Tell them we’re on our way,” you reply, “it’s in our path, and we don’t want any diplomatic incidents right now. Better for us to be slightly distracted than for the representative of the Reich to be hurt. Tell the rest of the platoon about what we’re doing,”

“Platoon?” Maddalyn asked.

“…the group.”

“I was kidding,” Maddalyn pouted before rattling off what you said.

“I expected her to be more verbose on the net,” Hans murmured, eager for an opportunity to criticize her performance in his field.

“I’ve listened in on a lot of radio traffic over the years,” she said smugly, “I know how you talk.”

You stand out of the cupola, looking around the streets; this early, they are empty but for a few dull faced citizens yawning while walking slowly to their business, paying your convoy little mind. The lamps are lit, but few appreciate it in the morning light. Less idyllic is the cracks of rifles in the distance; presumably the battle you are meant to resolve.

Your tanks were swift on the roads, and they reached the scene before the fighting ceased, fortunately.

The battle was not going well for the ambassador’s escort. Their cars were bullet resistant, but they were more armored against low velocity pistol rounds, not against proper rifles. The cars were riddled with holes, with wounded laying against them as the remaining guards’ numbers became fewer and fewer.

You were about to begin shouting orders as you buttoned up, but Maddalyn alerted you to a transmission.

“Ms. Vang is calling you,” she said,referring to the republican leader who was accompanying you in a possibly illegally appropriated armored car, in the hopes of taking vengeance against the militia who slaughtered her comrades.

“Put her through,” you said, adjusting your headset. “Lieutenant Von Tracht.”

“Mr. Tracht, can we sit this one out?” she said cautiously, “I…think we might know these people. I know you’re the boss, but can we sit this out?...no, it’s not alright, don’t say that…Von Tracht, just this once, please?”

>Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t sacrifice firepower for the sake of personal issues
>That’s alright. We have plenty of firepower with just the tanks, hang back.
>Fine, stay back, but you’d better be ready to explain yourself afterwards
>Other

>>851251
>Fine, stay back, but you’d better be ready to explain yourself afterwards

>>851251
How about a compromise? Just fire your weapons around their general direction, as if you're laying down suppressing fire.

>>851251
>Fine, stay back, but you’d better be ready to explain yourself afterwards
We have two tanks anyway. Crush them undertrack!

“Fine, stay back,” you say curtly, “Don’t act idle, though. At least pop off a few shots to make it seem like you’re here. You will explain yourself after this is over.”

“Sorry,” Signy says back quickly.

Even the sound of gunfire can’t drown out the sound of tanks rolling up the road, and the guards’ attention is drawn towards you. They look relieved by your arrival, and duck completely back into cover, willing to let the armored beasts do the heavy lifting; they had their fill of battle. You turn in towards where the fire is coming from; a smattering of a dozen armed, masked men are in covered positions in and around the buildings of the street; around three of them shoot from windows, while the others are behind hedges and architecture on the ground.

The rogues in front of you do not drop their weapons and surrender at the sight of you, nor do they attempt to flee. They focus, as if single-mindedly, on their attack on the cars. Some of them move around to get shots around your tanks.

>See if you can scare them off with stray shots
>Give the order to open fire with machine guns; killing them is the only option if they’re this dedicated to their mission
>Scatter them with an explosive shell
>Test out what the Hellfire Shells do to living things (Probably not a good idea)
>If their target is the ambassador, take him with you; pull up by the cars and take him in; they’ll leave if their target isn’t there
>Other

>>851269
>If their target is the ambassador, take him with you; pull up by the cars and take him in; they’ll leave if their target isn’t there

Shooting in the middle of an urban area should be the lastest resort.

>>851269
>If their target is the ambassador, take him with you; pull up by the cars and take him in; they’ll leave if their target isn’t there

>>851269
>>If their target is the ambassador, take him with you; pull up by the cars and take him in; they’ll leave if their target isn’t there
Lay down mg fire in their general direction
make sure that they don't flank us

For all the merits of tanks, one place they did not excel at limiting collateral damage. This time you would have to be the shield, rather than the spear, you deem.
You task Von Metzeler with interference; the m/28’s smaller size made it less suited to acting as a wall, as you’d need your m/32 to act when you rescued the ambassador.

You had expected the ambassador to be a more stately type, a carefully groomed man of ceremony with a silver tongue. What you encountered was entirely different, and shockingly familiar.

He was a grizzled, middle aged man pockmarked with tiny scars. One arm was posed stiffly, and terminated in an iron gauntlet. One cheek sagged, the connective tissue wounded, below a lifeless glass eye. Instead of typical formal wear, he had donned the maroon uniform of the Reich, a breast coated with decorations of service. A snow white cloth cape was draped on his shoulders, and a wreathed peaked cap crowned his head. You had seen pictures of this man, and heard of him, but hardly expected to encounter him in this position. This was Rogel Zierke, the Iron Hand of the Kaiser, hero of the Battle of Gzaeck Forest in the Emrean War, as well as the Battle of Tillhu Pass during the conquest of Felbach. There were tankers more famous than he, but not many.

“A timely arrival!” he shouted as he stepped out of the vehicle, bullets splattering against the other flank of your tank, “I haven’t had a party so lively in a long time, but I think I’m too old for such excitement.” He said this as he pulled himself up into the turret with one arm. He held the ironclad arm above the turret, “Come and get me, boys! The Iron Fist of the Kaiser challenges you to a chase!”

A round slammed into his arm, and he laughed uproariously. You peered at the gauntlet and noticed that the hole revealed the arm to be empty, but for some mechanisms. He slammed the turret access door behind him then bellowed loud enough you thought you had been deafened, “What the hell are you waiting for? Driver, forward! We’ve stayed plenty long enough!”

Beneath the surprise you felt a twinge of your pride being stepped on. “Where are the Judge-damned signals…” he muttered as he pushed around the turret.

You attempted to take back control of your tank. “Tell the platoon that we’re leaving, immediately. We aren’t stopping until we’re well clear of the town. Von Metzeler is to keep any hitchhikers from accompanying us.” You inform your guest, “We have radios now, you know.”

“Signal lights are faster than talking. The theorists and designers do a disservice to you by limiting your tools.” He grumbled.

The man’s attackers are not discouraged by his egress in a bulletproof vehicle. They attempt to charge at you, but human legs could not outpace a modern tank, and they were abandoned. As they grew smaller in the distance, you were afraid that they would attack the guards they had been defeating when you arrived, but they did nothing of the sort; their attention was solely on you now.

“I thank you for your assistance,” the ambassador, Zierke told you, “What is your name? The Kaiser will recognize your efforts, if you wish it.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say shakily. The Kaiser’s goodwill wasn’t something that was appreciated in most of the countries of Sosalia, let alone Strossvald. “I am Lieutenant Richter Von Tracht.”

“I am Rogel Zierke of his majesty Kaiser Henrik Von Zeissenburg’s Kaiserwache, although I presume you have heard of me.” He laughed to himself, “Von Metzeler is a name I have heard somewhere before. Are you a recent graduate?”

You are, you say.

“We will have to speak further at some point. If you are who I think you are, then I would love to tell you of how disappointed your courts were in your exploits…and how incredibly hilarious it was to watch them squirm. That will have to come later, though. You may leave me at the next town. Carrying me with you is a danger I do not wish to impart upon my rescuers.”

>We’re in armored vehicles. What are they going to do? Hurt our feelings?
>Very well, but are you sure you do not want an escort?
>As long as you think you will be safe, sure.
>Other

>>852634
>>We’re in armored vehicles. What are they going to do? Hurt our feelings?

>>852634
>>Very well, but are you sure you do not want an escort? There's a whole battalion's worth of armor missing out there.

>>852634
>>We’re in armored vehicles. What are they going to do? Hurt our feelings?
In jest
>Very well, but are you sure you do not want an escort? The rabble out there have acquired some armor and armored cars
If he deigns to leave us offer him a sidearm or something

>>852634
>We’re in armored vehicles. What are they going to do? Hurt our feelings?
>Very well, but are you sure you do not want an escort?

Also there's unidentified spoopy but that's best left out?

>>852634
>We’re in armored vehicles. What are they going to do? Hurt our feelings?
>Or you have reasons to suspect they might have anti-armor capabilities?

“We’re all in armored vehicles,” you reply, stating the blatantly obvious, “Unless they’re set on hurting our feelings they aren’t going to get far.”

“Don’t underestimate the potential of a band of driven killers, my boy, even the poorly armed still wield a great deal of creativity” Zierke said, tapping his iron arm with a hollow clanking, “They aren’t after you, they’re after me, and I’m plenty capable of evading them. They aren’t the first bunch who’ve wanted to personally hunt me down over the years. Hell, the Emreans still have a five thousand Neuemark bounty on my head. Spiteful lot, them.”

“Well,” you continue to try to convince your charge to not go off on his own once more, “Are you sure you don’t want an escort? These rabble have armored vehicles, after all. Perhaps you haven’t heard, but an entire battalion of armored equipment has been stolen.” You carefully leave out the threat of eldritch abominations.

The Imperial Ambassador seems unconcerned. “There are more than a few rabbles, and if the ones so eager for my life had armor, why did they not use it to ambush me? They were prepared to cross my path, after all. As I said, I will be perfectly fine.”

“Surely you need a sidearm at least,” you resign yourself to this famous guest leaving your care.

“It so happens that I already have one,” the decorated hero smirks and twists off the end of his iron arm. A fluted, stubby black gun barrel protrudes from where the wrist was. “It’s rather useful, but I had to pay an arm for it.”

“That’s very interesting,” you marvel, ignoring the pun.

“It turns out with enough investment into a creative gunsmith, you can get near anything made for the right price. He told me he had plans for a prosthetic leg gun as well! How presumptuous of him.”

You and your group stop off at the village of Schoffes to drop off Rogel Zierke.

“My apologies again for burdening you,” Zierke gives a deep nod towards you, “Now if you excuse me, I must go and make a nuisance of myself. It wouldn’t do if our friends back in the city thought you were still in my company.” He scratches his chin thinking for a moment, then remembers something. With a quick “Oh,” he puts a hand into his coat pocket and retrieves a gold seal, emblazoned with the crowned winged lion of the Von Zeissenburgs. “Your reward for your aid. If you present this to any man of the Reich, you will be allowed an audience with the Kaiser.”

“I cannot possibly accept this,” you say near immediately, “I didn’t do all that much.”

“I insist,” Zierke says, eyes shining, “I am of the Kaiserwache, the closest allies, as well as friends, of the Kaiser. His majesty Henrik does not like letting favors go unpaid, no matter how small they may seem to you. He is young, after all, and idealistic.”

>I insist that I decline. With what has happened recently, being too close to the Reich is even more suspicious than normal.
>I respect you but not your nation. I cannot accept a gift from the enemies of my ancestors.
>I accept, then. Perhaps we will meet again.
>I accept the opportunity, but not the invitation.
>Other

>>855509
>I respect you but not your nation. I cannot accept a gift from the enemies of my ancestors.

>>855509
>>I accept, then. Perhaps we will meet again.

Might be handy down the road, just shove it in our pocket and forget about it for now

>>855509
>>I accept, then. Perhaps we will meet again.

“Very well then,” you accept the gift and Zierke drops it into your hand. You doubt that you would use it anytime soon, but it could prove useful in the future, perhaps when the Kaiser would possibly decide to crash against the Imperial Gate. “Perhaps we’ll meet again then?”

“Sooner than you think, I’ll wager.” The ambassador flashed a toothy, misshapen grin at you. “Don’t try to be too heroic, now. Unless you want a metal arm.” With that, he jumped off and strolled into the village’s square.

You jumped off too, but not to follow him. You went to the armored car, filled with its four occupants, to get some answers in person.

“Ms. Vald, I believe you have some explaining to do.” You say to the lounging heir to the Shields of Liberty.

Her companions glare at you menacingly but she mutters something to them, and they look away as she leaves them. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Why didn’t you want to fight? You said you wanted to kill Dawnseekers, did you change your mind when the opportunity came?”

“Those weren’t them,” she opens and closes her hand on her left arm, “Why would they attack the imperial ambassador?”

“A false flag,” you offer, “if there was a diplomatic incident, it would give the Reich a reason to act aggressively.”

“Maybe, but I can tell you that that wasn’t what was happening there.” She shifted uncomfortably, “That may have been…some of us.”

You were under the assumption that Signy and her friends were the only members of her group left, and you tell her this.

“That’s what I thought…but I guess not.”

You still don’t get why she’s so certain of who the attackers were.

“We planned out the ambassador’s route back when we were still active, to track his movements. We didn’t plan on ever doing anything to him, but it was always in the back of some people’s minds. To be honest…back at the inn…before you came in, we, maybe, sort of, were planning to try and ambush the ambassador too. They were using positions we had already planned out, from property owned by friends.”

“Fantastic,” you shove your hands into your pockets.

“Well, we didn’t end up doing it, did we?” she murmured defensively, “You’d be pissed off if a bunch of Demimperi bootlickers, killed your father, and your friends too, wouldn’t you?” Signy gets more and more agitated as she says this. “What if you couldn’t do anything, but, run away, as everything you knew and loved was burned alive? Don’t I have a right to avenge them? A duty?”

>The ambassador wasn’t a part of that. You can’t bay for the blood of an entire people just for the actions of a few.
>Just be patient. We’ll find some people to kill soon enough.
>Are you alright? Is there something you need to get off your chest?
>I can’t have you along if you’re going to be a liability. Either keep that down, and save it for those who deserve it, or leave.
>Other

>>856097
>Are you alright? Is there something you need to get off your chest?

>>856097
>>keep that down, and save it for those who deserve it
you need to calm down, you're bringing your personal vendettas into what we're doing right now
Save it for combat with the dawnseekser and keep you mind clear and sharp

>>856097
>Are you alright? Is there something you need to get off your chest?

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>>856097

“Are you alright?” You try to sound receptive, but your experience with the stiffness of the courts and military nobility has made it more difficult to do that than it is to make sarcastic remarks or furious outbursts. “Is there something you need to get off your chest?”

“What do you care,” Signy said flatly, leaning against a tree on one leg and sulking into her coat. “I’m so far beneath you that I’m not worth paying any mind to anyways.”

This fantastic feat of projection doesn’t particularly phase you. “You need to calm down, having your personal vendettas at the front of your mind isn’t helpful right now. Save it for when you need it.”

Signy smolders, burying her face in her collar. “I don’t want this rage in my heart to ever cool. It’s only been a day, and the pain is already fading. I’m terrified that I’ll lose that feeling, don’t you understand? If I ever forget it, how could I say that I’m a worthy leader? A worthy successor?” She sobs with a muffled screech, “You don’t get it, of course you don’t. Why am I even bothering telling you this? Go to hell!”

Signy balls up a fist and punches you square in the chest, but it lacks any force. Her knees give way when she tries to hit you again, and she falls backward onto her bottom, her breathing shallow. Her eyes pierce the ground, refusing to raise. She stands back up slowly and hits you again with even less effort.

>If that’s all, we have a mission to fulfill. Get up if you’re still interested in helping.
>I don’t know how you feel, but we still need you. Nobody will be satisfied this way, get up and come with me.
>The princess of a proud band of freedom fighters throws a tantrum and collapses like a child. Would your father be pleased with how pathetic this is?
>Strike her (specify place)
>Other

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>>856708
>I’m terrified that I’ll lose that feeling

Don't worry...you won't.

>>856708
>You say this to the scion of what once once a great noble house, reduced to nothing and shat upon by every person in a position of power because I'll never live up to the legacy of my forefathers. All I have is pride and a burning desire to prove those fools wrong. Perhaps you aren't worthy, but I see in you the potential to be, and sometimes that's all one needs to become something more.
>The princess of a proud band of freedom fighters throws a tantrum and collapses like a child. Would your father be pleased with how pathetic this is?

>>856858
Supporting

>>856708
You should be the one controlling your emotions, not letting it control you. Do some soul-searching; ask yourself if these feelings are what you believe in? If they are, then carry on; if not, then losing it isn't really bad right?

You weren’t angry, per se, but you were rather tired of being told you don’t understand this or that, whether it be from above or below. “I don’t understand what it means to be a worthy successor? You say this to a scion of what once was a great noble house, the Silver Lances of the archduke’s ancestors, reduced to nothing. I am mocked by all whom I’ve met because I’ll never live up to the legacy of my forefathers. All I have is my pride, and a burning desire to prove those fools wrong.”

Signy looks dumbly at you, clearly not expecting this level of response, “Look at you. The princess of a proud band of freedom fighters throws a tantrum and collapses like a child. Would your father be pleased with how pathetic this is?”

Signy meets your gaze, and you feel pure hatred for a moment before her eyes overflow with tears. She screw her eyes shut, but the tears do not stop. She buries her face in her hands and shakes. “Why am I so weak?” She whispers to nobody.

Perhaps you went a bit far. “Maybe you are a failure, but I don’t think so,” you say, your tone still hard as crystal. “Nobody told me that I would go far, but I have to try anyways. Nobody pulled me up when the skies were darkest, I had to stand up on my own two feet. You can stand on your feet too, or you can lose yourself in the hate you think others need you to feel, and never become the person your friends need you to be.”

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to help a girl off of the ground, but that wouldn’t do here. “If you wish to be a slave to the anguish of the past rather than the hope of the future, then lay there in the dirt. If not, you can throw those feelings away and let them burden you no longer.”

You turn your back on her. “We’re leaving as soon as we’re able.”

As you stride back to your tank, you hear the scrambling of Signy’s feet, and you climb back in more than satisfied with yourself.

“Quite the lady killer, aren’t you, Boss?” Hans leers at you as you shut the hatch.

“Nonsense,” you retort.

Maddalyn is indignant. “Lady Killer? What were you doing out there, Richter?”

You coyly ignore her.

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You travel up the road for another three kilometers about, before Von Metzeler’s tank, ahead of you for this leg, screeches to a halt.

“Richt-I mean, commander,” Maddalyn says rapidly, “Muzzler, I mean Mintler…whatever, he’s,” She grows exasperated and flicks the feed through to you without warning.

“Mintler?” you say back, just in time for Von Metzeler to hear you.

“Now is not the time for idiocy, Von Tracht!” he scolds, “Beyond the valley is an ambush. I spied a vehicle reversing beyond the hill, as well as another reversing back down. Both of different sizes, and both lacking marks.”

In the rearmament and refueling process of last night, your crestless m/28 had been bestowed with a crest, but not in the usual place. The ambushers must have presumed the lead vehicle did not have one until they spotted the seal too late.

You see a long, metal object with a paired extrusion towards the end being hastily pulled down when you look as well, and crane your head high enough to see the very tops of the hidden vehicles.

>Keep going forward; we’ll hit them straight on.
>Wait and see; let them come to us.
>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan
>Take some other action or specify on a former, including actions of platoon.
>Other (If you want to plan your own thing, go for it. Your general surroundings are reflected by the second valley down the road from Schoffes)

>You have one m/32 tank and one m/28 tank; a medium tank armed with a 47mm cannon and a 13mm bow gun, and a lighter tank armed with a 25mm anti-tank cannon respectively. You also are traveling with an armored car, proof against small arms and armed with a machine gun in a revolving turret. The militiamen of the Shields of Liberty, traveling with you, are ununiformed and thus not readily identifiable as belonging to a side. You are all armed with rifles or carbines; each tank carries one submachine gun, as well as several grenades.

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For the information of those who don't wish to climb back through threads to see what things looked like, and for things that were never shown in detail, these are the vehicles in your platoon.

"S" is merely a designation for vehicles license produced in Strossvald, and "B" for the variant of Pz m/32 produced in the Blumlands, armed with a 47mm cannon rather than the 37 regular.

>>857661
>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan.

Considering that they're behind the hill, stupid to rush them head on. All we'll do is expose ourselves to their fire if we crest it.

>>857661
It's a bit strange for an ambush. The enemy's vehiiles should have already been on the firing positions, not hastily retreating to them. Either they are complete amateurs, or this isn't an ambush at all. Either way,

>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan

>>857661
>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan

>>857661
>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan

I'm really digging this new art, dude. It's good shit.

>>857661
>>We’ll move to better terrain. No reason to stay within the margins of their plan
I have a couple of questions about armament
How much penetration can the 13mm gun obtain against armor? assuming that you're basing the round on 13.2 TuF/ 13.2 Hotchkiss/ .50 Vickers/ .50 BMG/15mm BESA I would say 17mm-28mm of RHA penetration at 100 yards
Is the MG in the armored car small arms caliber or is it 13mm?