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B3.20 - Varangian Guard

Neutrality always swallows all things mighty.

Pre-Fall Musician and writer.

Getting an invitation to dinner from a Senator surprised Johanna but not Ulrich.

“Politics,” he simply commented with a distasteful look.

The Senator from Cheyenne, the one who’d been immediately skeptical when the Executive started his presentation, was an older woman with outdoorswoman-weathered skin and incredibly thick curly black hair. She also invited her outdoors, rather than to the official Residence of Cheyenne.

Tom had merely grumbled since it was clear he wasn’t included in the invitation. She hugged him in apology, but it was what it was.

Wexler hadn’t joked when he spoke about that restaurant when they’d arrived in Nashville. She’d been to a few establishments since she’d thought of Valetta’s Wandering Inn as the best inn possible, and while she was not that high-society seasoned, she could tell it was way above the best of what she’d seen so far.

She also did not want to know how much the invitation would cost. Thankfully for her state of mind, the carte did not include prices.

The older woman suggested they wait to order, and started with some general chat before slowly coming to the subject.

“Wexler is cagey, but it is obvious the war is about you,” she said.

“That’s correct,” Johanna answered immediately.

The Senator looked at her expectantly, but she did not elaborate. She’d been drilled already about the limits of what she could say, particularly in a non-official setting.

“Since people realized that Talents existed following the Fall, people have been fantasizing about getting these, becoming powerful Talented. It’s what… one in a hundred thousand people?”

“A bit more, I’d say. Magical-type Talents… they’re obvious, usually. Heroic Talents are usually a bit less obvious. That’s why Heroes are considered rare – there are probably dozens of people around that don’t even realize they are one. They might think they’re just that good… at something.”

“Truly?”

“If you’re good at dodging a sword attack, unless you’re in the military, you might not notice it. And even then, you’re just a good or lucky soldier.”

“Dodging a sword is a Heroic Talent?”

Johanna smiled.

“And if you’ve got the right specialization, it becomes hard not to dodge a sword.”

Senator Nokomis frowned.

“I would think you really want to dodge that.”

“Not if you don’t want people to know you’re a Hero.”

The waiter came back, and they stopped briefly to order. Johanna still had no idea what to pick, so she simply settled on something different from the Senator’s, just to avoid looking as if she was copying her.

“I still find it difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that becoming a sorceress is as simple as holding a paper and accepting its gift,” Senator Nokomis said.

“It’s the only reliable method there is. Otherwise, it is luck, at least mostly.”

“And you are the only ones who can make those. No one else,” she stressed.

“So far, yes. The Executive’s intelligence service has reported they’ve tried to reproduce our success but failed, repeatedly.”

“And that’s why Wexler tells us they’re coming this way. The Warden cannot let you operate independently.”

“That’s the gist of it, ma’am.”

“I was skeptical, you know.”

“It’s a bit hard to believe. That’s why we brought the parchments Wexler showed. A simple one anyone can use, and one with a specialization, so you can see the difference, how it works.”

“That was the Shaper one, right?”

“It’s a relatively basic version. So he used it after all?”

The Senator raised her hand, and Johanna saw the mana gather on her palm before the flame from Fire Handling sprung. The Senator immediately realized where they were and shut it down before anyone could notice.

“Congratulations,” Johanna said with a straight face.

“We actually rolled dice when Wexler said we could use it only once. Although the first winner couldn’t light it up, so I won the next round.”

“So, you know what we say is true.”

“A few Senators still don’t think that Maistry would dare an intra-Union war, but if there are truly a hundred thousand of those parchments in his hands…”

“There are. Alas.”

“Before the draft, the Marches of the Montana had about 10% of the total military forces of the Union. The only States with a bigger standing army are the Southern Marches, the Star and the South ones. My own State has a bit less.”

She’d seen the analysis by Independence’s general staff. 40,000 professional soldiers vs. 4,500 – or less, depending on the losses they suffered during the course of that last northern war against recruitment efforts. From what she understood, it was the maximum professional army the modern Union economies could sustain long term, at around 1 to 2% of their population. The draft, like what the Montana was doing, could swell that to 7-8% at the expense of the quality of the troops. Any more, and you’d possibly cripple your State for decades, if not generations, because once farm hubs got conscripted and left unworked save by the elderly and the kids, it was a matter of victory or death, and victory would leave you worse off than when you started.

“It’s not impressive in itself,” the Senator contemplated her now empty hand before continuing, “but Wexler said it was a herald of things that could be done.”

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“Do not underestimate it. I killed a Canid once with just that Talent. It’s not just a flame, it’s a fixed size and shape flame. Things like a gullet do not fully deflect or reduce it, so it burns through. Also, if you haven't noticed, it only works with your main hand.”

The senator frowned at Johanna’s explanation, looking again at her own hand.

“And you’ve got more Talents. Way more.”

“You’ve seen our demonstration. We’re a bit of an extreme case, but yes. I also have a better specialization, which means a bigger flame.”

The entrees came, and they stopped talking, taking a little nibble. The egg dish was absolutely divine. Johanna didn’t know you could even get eggs to taste that way.

They made chitchat, and the Senator probed more, so Johanna ended up explaining the goals of the Talent House in more detail than Wexler’s quick presentation during the initial Senate hearing.

“But of course, that’s now for later. Much later,” she ended up.

“With such a war, then yes.”

“You’re going to support Independence State, then?”

“With what remains, yes.”

“What remains?”

The Senator made a face as she put her napkin aside on the table.

“You realize the Senate just agreed to help the Warden less than three months ago.”

“Yes, the news were all about it.”

“Now, I don’t know how much the Military Command will have done. But I would guess that at least one-third of our military marched out this fall to reinforce the Marches of the Montana for their winter campaign.”

Johanna blinked. Twice.

“What do you think…”

“Best outcome? They shoved them to some safe outpost, cut off from any contact, and unaware of what transpires. Worst? They ambush them and slaughter them. Fifteen hundred troops that aren’t available. Probably.”

She swallowed, and the Senator gave her a sad look.

“And if they’re coming straight at Independence, we will be on the way. Home probably needs Talented, but I guess I’m no longer that exceptional and a bit too old now for war.”

The first invitation unlocked the floodgates, and it now seemed all of the Senators wanted to meet them individually and personally. She shuffled the invitations to Laura and Peter and almost did the same with Tom, imagining her stoic husband eating out a Senator’s food with short and curt minor replies, if any.

But there was one invitation she was not going to foist off to anyone. She still debated even accepting it, but Ulrich pointed out that accepting was not agreeing to anything.

She wondered if people had noticed her invitations to Wexler’s favorite Gold Maple Inn and were copying, or if it was genuinely so above the rest that it was the obvious choice by all the upper-class people like the Senators. A few more invitations, and she’d probably know the carte by heart. At least this meant she could try different things. She already had her favorites, like the shirred eggs or that insane tangy-sauce sirloin, but there were so many things to discover.

However, as if to highlight the occasion, the darkening skies were heavy with clouds, and a very cold wind whipped around. Without a Talent with cold resistance, she was very pleased to arrive at the restaurant and left her inevitable guardsman at the entrance before being brought inside.

The Senator for the Marches of the Montana was gruff-looking but seemed well acquainted with the establishment as well. He also didn’t waste time.

“Why are you here?”

“Here as in this nice establishment or…”

“In Independence. You’re from the Marches, after all. You should know that the tribals north – or worse, the Changed there – are savages. And they attacked the Marches as soon as they sensed a vulnerability, banking on the abrupt succession of Edgard Maistry. So, why aren’t you bringing your powers to the help of the Warden?”

Johanna had to stare.

“You really don’t know?”

“No. When Elena Winchester, the biggest sorceress the Marches ever had, learned of the Warden’s plight, she immediately headed north to support her home. So, enlighten me, then?”

“Well, first off, we were drafted. Last year, when we were still in Valetta, we got snatched at home, brought to the Adjutant himself, and marched off to New Benton without even an apology.”

“And if I remember right, 2173 was after the first winter offensive, with the Wendigos’ alliance. You had to know a draft would be inevitable. Why not volunteer, then?”

“I apologize if we don’t get all the news back in remote Valetta and aren’t up to what the capital does.”

“Well, Valetta’s smithies are renowned across the state. And your city did warrant being on the Adjutant’s itinerary, if he was overseeing the draft there.”

Johanna merely shrugged. Valetta had been, well, just the city next door. Anasta used to be her home until people fearing Change drove the four of them out.

I wonder what they’d think of it now.

“Oh, I will admit they didn’t lump us with the rest of the conscripts, and they had good ideas about how to use our Talents back then. But we never got offered a choice. And in fact, they made sure we would never get the opportunity.

“It’s only when we were at the Kootenai Gap that we found out that Laura and I were dosed with contraceptive drugs. To avoid even the slightest risk that we might weasel out of the draft.”

The Senator frowned slightly.

“You were what?”

“The label said ‘zeroluck’. It’s apparently a famous anti-conception drug from the Eagle Republic.”

“That sounds absolutely asinine.”

“I’m not lying.”

“If you tell me you found that bottle, and I hope it wasn’t just some coincidence, then it is stupid.”

“How so? The Montana law says we become exempt if we have kids.”

“And you would abandon your husbands?”

Johanna stopped there.

“That’s why I say this is stupid. Definitely not something that New Benton would pick as a means to keep you involved in the war. I think someone in the general staff has had big problems after you deserted.”

“You know we did.”

“Well, I’m not that stupid. I read the press, and it’s not hard to link ‘powers’ that deserted with four majorly Talented showing up in the Senate a year later.”

Johanna had to frown. Then she realized the Senator might not know. While he’d worked for the Warden, and the Adjutant had been there and presumably engineered the theft, none of them might have bothered keeping their Union Senator in the loop.

“Well, any loyalty we might have harbored for the Warden pretty much ended then. You can be thankful that those drugs don’t interfere with the Talent system. It would have been doubly stupid.”

The waiter came for the orders, and she definitively did pick the eggs and sirloin.

“And that’s why we’re in Independence, not the Marches. And that’s why your boss stole our parchments, and your goons tried to kidnap us.”

“So you say.”

“The agents sent to New Sandusky admitted to working for the adjutant when they thought they were still winning. That’s good enough for me. And Katia confirms their association with your embassy.”

“Always keep in mind that, by nature, such people will tell you what they want you to hear.”

She shrugged and sipped the last of the cocktail drink.

“So, according to you, the Marches of the Montana will go to war against another State of the Union.”

“Stealing was the first step. The Warden can’t let us remain here.”

“If you’re so sure Maistry will wage war over you, why don’t you stop it?”

“We’re powerful, but not that powerful.”

“I’m saying you wage war, but stop it. If the reason the Warden is coming is because you’re here, why don’t you come back to the Marches? If there is a war, people will die, inevitably. If you work for the Warden, that’s not necessary.”

“And the Warden would not go on to conquer everything?”

“Contrary to what everyone will tell you, there is a difference between the civilized parts of the world, like the Union, and the wild savages around the continent. While people do disagree on how to run the Union best, the fact that they can disagree is the hallmark of civilization.”

“Well, the mere fact that the Warden will go to war proves that some people are not willing to disagree, then.”

“Will. At least in the Executive’s opinion.”

“Well, I am certainly not going to give Edgard Maistry control of the Talent House.”

“And you are not giving Harold Wexler that?”

“That’s different.”

“Not really. You need to realize that if you are the only source of Talents, as the Executive tells us, then your choice is who is controlling you, not whether or not you will be controlled.”

Johanna’s distaste must have shown, because the Senator concluded, “People who are irreplaceable always end up locked up. In a gilded cage, if any. Make sure you choose your cage carefully, Mrs. Milton. The Wardens have never been stupid about people of worth. Unlike whoever gave you that drug.”

There were already two inches of snow in the street as Johanna and her guard found themselves under the porch of the Gold Maple Inn. And more was falling in, a thick snowfall streaking across the street, pushed by the still-strong wind. It was almost like a blizzard, even if it was only early December.

“Well, isn’t that grand,” she sighed.

“The Independence Residence is not that far.”

She briefly contemplated her arsenal. Almost everything was aimed or static. She finally removed her glove, turned up the palm, and pulled out the flame.

“At least we won’t freeze,” she said.

“I have to admit, Talents are grand,” the guard replied. “I feel warmer already.”

“Well, now you have a reason to stay even closer.”