It has been a few months since the first sacrifice. Her Majesty has appeared at every single one, offering her smiles, her little encouragements… The beauty of her form and the delight of her approval... Except the latest one. Apparently being the queen of a country at war occasionally held some responsibilities and she could not be at our side that day. I had feared that perhaps I would simply be unable to continue to do as Steel demanded without the queen's encouragement but in honesty, I can still feel her smile even when she isn't there. I can kill just by knowing I am doing it for her. It is at least enough for me to become mechanical, detached, and able to perform the required sacrifices. In her service it has become quick and easy to take a life… Though I still look away once the screaming begins.

There is an empty seat in front of me in the lecture hall, previously occupied by a girl who failed to kill, and was sacrificed to Steel. At the time she seemed at peace with her fate, at least until she was stabbed. She howled, she cried, she tried fighting back but it was too late by then. Hesitation had killed her… I didn’t even know her name. I have failed to learn the names of any of my fellow comrade witches, consistently struggling to be anything but reserved around my fellow students… Her opponent was quickly taken outside the grove and shot. The Marshal explained to us that even if no one can be sacrificed more than once, we will not be giving these prisoners mercy by losing to them. The gods are particular about being fed but aren't particular about who gets shot in a ditch outside the proving grounds. It makes the whole thing seem painfully pointless, but mainland Avernians are just like this apparently, no one here seems to think it's weird. It’s enough to make me wonder why Father had betrayed the Grand Duchy of Kerska and sold the island to them… But at least that betrayal had, eventually, led me here, to the radiance of Her Majesty.

… How was the girl who once sat in front of me not saved by Her Majesty?

… My eighteenth birthday came and went recently. My parents sent a rather ludicrous care package from Kerska, one which I assume was at some stage stuffed to the brim with local delicacies. But it certainly was not by the time it reached my hands. I suspect that the commissary staff had eaten at least half of them, I know that other girls have complained about similar things happening to mail they were sent from home. But all of that might have been forgiven, if only the gods had answered my prayers.

I had prayed to Steel that Her Majesty might grace me with her presence that day, but she did not, apparently restricting her visits to sacrifice days. It seems that Steel was more than a little useless, if he cannot even fulfill one simple request like this. Or maybe my own personal goddess is simply stronger than Steel himself, and is beyond his power to control.

… What are we doing in the lecture hall again? Oh right, defense tactics.

"It is important to keep your soldiers well drilled, so as to keep them fit and able to build defensive works as necessary. Trenches, stone walls, always keep the men prepared to dig in if need be."

I have heard stories of commanders with more pressing matters than drilling their soldiers, some who even hired out their troops as a source of cheap labor and pocketed the fees, calling it ‘physical training’. A great many of them are dead now, troops and commanders both. It seems a waste of the money spent on tuition to the academy in all honesty, and a waste of human lives… Why even have armies if you aren’t going to take them seriously?

"Always keep a close eye out for beneficial terrain features. Hills will give a better vantage to fire upon the enemy with artillery, forests can conceal troops and provide them some cover, and slow the movement of cavalry. Rivers are difficult to cross, and that goes for our enemies as well, so it puts their backs against a wall if they try to retreat."

Rivers… They tend to show up a lot in my brother's exploits... Along with my half-eaten delicacies, I received a great many reports of my brother's exploits in Samnia, of the bold and brave victories he has achieved despite being so often outnumbered and outgunned. It's enough to make one wonder how a Coalition remains to oppose us after such embarrassing losses... Not that I'd ever accuse my brother of lying, of course. There must simply be more Magyars, Icenians and Germans in the world than I ever thought possible.

"Now, look at this example here."

Our lecturer, a middle-aged woman who looked like she hadn't slept since the war began, pulled on a string to unfurl a large map before us. It is a strategic map; we'd learned enough to know how to read its strange lines and bizarre boxes. It details a force entrenched upon a hill, with an approaching Coalition Army moving to attack.

"This is an example of a well-executed defense. The artillery is well protected and has good vision from the top of the hill, the infantry is entrenched around it in order to support, the cavalry is in reserve to take advantage of any breaks in enemy cohesion. This formation should be able to take on a force larger than its size and emerge victorious."

Something about this example seems... Off, to me. Perhaps it’s all the space on the map that is unused, there is more than enough room to maneuver around this admittedly formidable defense. There are forests that might provide some opportunity, and the cavalry is just sitting around, waiting for a victory that everyone anticipated... I can see things going wrong with this.

And I stand up... If I hesitate then I might be condemning another of my comrades to death one day, by virtue of a bad example. "Ummm, forgive me madam but I believe-"

"Please sit down, Mademoiselle Pollineux, this is a lecture-"

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"But your example is wrong!"

The air sharpens, becoming sharp enough to cut me to pieces if I step wrong now. The lecturer gives me a glare with an antagonism that I imagine she would not be able to muster for any number of Icenian regulars or Magyar conscripts. I am the enemy now, and she is going to defend her ground to the last.

"Your brother being who he is does not negate the necessity of proper military training, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

"Proper, yes! ... Your example implies too much Madam. It implies the enemy are simply going to charge into well-prepared defenses, that they aren't going to attempt any flanking maneuvers using all the empty space the example gives them, or even just bypass the defense entirely and cut it off from supply. Even the most formidable trenches are useless if its defenders are starving!"

The lecturer does not budge an inch, but I can feel the sharp air close in... I swear my neck is bleeding ever so softly. "I see. You believe I assume the enemy is an idiot, whereas you assume the enemy is a genius of maneuver warfare. It seems a little hypocritical to-"

"We have to be prepared for generals who are geniuses of maneuver warfare! It's a relatively new doctrine, sure, but look at what it is achieving in Samnia! We pioneered this, we cannot allow ourselves to be left behind!"

A withdrawal, a slight withdrawal... I reach a hand to my neck and feel the wetness of blood against my hand and neck... Our lecturer is a witch? "Very well, Mademoiselle Pollineux. How then would you perform a maneuver defense? Impress me, Pollineux."

... I wish she'd call me Serena. It’s as if she was asking for my brother to prove her wrong, not me... Then again, it was my brother who pioneered the doctrine that I'm championing, so in a sense she is... I just can't escape his shadow, can I?

I feel the sharpness of the air against my neck again, the lecturer is clearly impatient for me to start... The forests, the forests are key I think. "... I would split my forces, some creating obvious and blatant defenses on the hill, some set up in the forests as a flanking force. When the enemy converges on the hill to attack, we open fire from the forests, with three-pounder guns if the ground allows, as well as with infantry. When the enemy is disoriented and attempting to reform themselves to face this new threat, resulting gaps in the line will be easy to exploit with cavalry emerging from behind the hill. This, I believe, will precipitate a costly rout for the enemy."

"You believe-"

"It's the conclusion I have drawn from the after-action reports I have read relating to the use of maneuver warfare. A great deal of it is about provoking a rout by creating confusion and exploiting the resulting gaps, rather than simply waiting for the enemy to make them themselves."

A nearby student giggles, mumbling something about ‘exploiting gaps’', before screaming and recoiling. She reaches her hands to her hair, only quietening down as she realizes it is all still there. The lecturer pinches the bridge of her nose... And suddenly the tension in the air is gone, and I feel free to breathe again without brushing up against an invisible knife. I think... I think I may have won.

"This is meant to be an elementary example on proper entrenchment for teenagers, Mademoiselle Pollineux."

"It's better to teach them right from the very beginning, otherwise they'll default to bad habits under pressure, Madam."

"You really are your brother's sister, aren’t you?"

"I am Serena Pollineux..."

"Sit down then, Serena. This was very amusing, but we do have a lecture to get back to."

I obey, taking my seat again and looking at my wet, bloodied hand... And finding it completely clean. The feeling of wetness fades as I see for certain that there is no blood on my fingers, and I realize there must have been no cut on my neck at all. Our lecturer certainly has a strange power… And it seems there is still some fury in that woman somewhere under all that tiredness. I may have made a powerful enemy today. Or at the very least, a powerful impression. But I can't let my comrades down or allow them to pick up bad habits. They are going to war in three years, and the battlefield is no place for mediocrity... Not when you're serving Her Majesty. Not when she apparently can’t save everyone…

The rest of the lecture washed over me somewhat, I have to admit that the moment the Queen graces my thoughts she doesn't leave them easily. Certainly not for defensive tactics 101 from an outdated doctrine, and certainly not for this lecturer. They are probably of similar age, come to think of it, albeit with very different builds... I am eighteen now. In the eyes of Velvet I would be considered a woman, a child no longer. Would Her Majesty see me as a woman? … Can I really say I’m much of a ‘grown-up’, that I fit in with the strange mainland Avernians and their sacrifices, their strange priorities, their ‘normalcy’. Maybe I have a lot of growing up to do before I can really consider myself worthy of Her Majesty’s affections… But I can’t escape the desire for her to want me as I am, not as the incomprehensibly ‘normal’ Serena I should become.

"... Come back, your Majesty. I miss you."

I realize soon after the lecture that my notes are mostly little sketches, fragments of love poems, all things I barely even remember making... This is bad, I am supposed to be killing for Her Majesty. Not falling for her.