Tagesanbruch

by JahJah

Meet the Majors

Meanwhile…

“Do you trust me, Gitta?”

Those words were practically glued to the forefront of Gitta Lightwing’s mind. The griffon who spoke those words had been not just her colleague, but her friend for over twenty years through thick and thin.

The russet-coloured griffoness alighted from the train carriage. The platform had a few griffons, some also disembarking from the train, and others waiting to board. It was small, and had no roof in case of rain. Below was the familiar sight of Besanmiers, a small farming village in the north of Strawberry at the end of the imperial railroad. A small depot sat next to the platform, where soldiers and railway workers unloaded crates from the numerous freight cars and hauled them into trucks that waited on the roadside.

It had been a simple trip to Griffenheim. Nothing worthy of worry or suspicion. So what compelled him to ask?

Of course, it had become evident over the course of the trip that something was afoot - whether sinister or not she couldn’t tell. Her questions had been mounting every mile on the train ride home. Likely, the answers she sought were contained within the item for which she had traveled to Griffenheim for, a package she had been instructed not to open “for the safety of a lot of griffons, yourself included.” Incredibly reassuring words.

The sun ambushed her, unleashing its full fury on her eyes. She raised a claw to block it, on the way up jostling the pouch where the package sat.

“Aw, it’s not that much sun, Gitta.” came a voice from behind. Flapping up beside her was Ernst Stormbeak, carrying a suitcase in each claw. The spruce-coloured griffon had been assigned to be her escort during her trip. While he knew about the package, he wasn’t in the know about how it came into her possession (or anything else about it, for that matter).

On the third night of their stay in the imperial capital, she had received a letter in her room, which directed her to a bush in the gardens outside the imperial palace, under which she found the package. The letter had also outlined the necessity for her not disclosing any details with anyone, as well as blessing her with the already mentioned “reassuring words.”

Gitta said, “Maybe not for you, leutnant, but I don’t spend twelve hours a day staring straight into it.”

Ernst was taken aback. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to take it to heart. C’mon, I didn’t mean any offence.”

“I’ve just got.. a lot on my mind. I’m not in the mood for banter.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Let’s just.. let’s just get back.”

Without another word, she strode forward to present her ticket to the griffon in the ticket-booth, then began to descend the platform’s stairs. Ernst followed, flapping behind her while carrying their suitcases. There wasn’t an arranged plan for getting back, so she decided to just ask nicely. They made their way over to the soldiers. The troops were in lines, passing crates and other freight to each other and storing them in the trucks. One griffon in particular caught Gitta’s attention. He seemed to be directing the efforts of his fellows, which singled him out as the commander of this group - which she estimated to be about half of a zug.

She weaved through the soldiers, apologising quite a bit. When she got close to the officer, she hailed him, grabbing his attention. “Leutnant?”

The leutnant - for indeed he was - turned his head to inspect her. “Yes, miss?”

Gitta produced an ID, and passed it to the leutnant. “I am Major Lightwing. This is my escort, Oberleutnant Stormbeak. We require a lift back to the manor.”

The leutnant examined it for a moment, then gave it back. “Yes ma’am. We’re almost done here, we can find you a truck going to the manor.”

“Thank you, leutnant.” she said with a smile.

They had to wait a few minutes for the troops to finish loading up their trucks, by which time another convoy was arriving to continue the job. Gitta and Ernst were taken to a truck that was going to the Dawn manor. As she settled into the passenger seat of the cabin, she jostled the pouch once more. Her thoughts and questions returned.

She needed answers.

---

“Zug… halt!”

The zug came to halt on the beat. The leutnant in command breathed in for his next command.

“Zug… left turn into parade forma…..tion!”

The zug turned to the left, and then divided by rank, the first and second ranks taking two paces and one pace forward respectively. The leutnant hard spun around, and addressed his aged superior, the yellow/green coloured Major Atlas Hengsbach.

“The zug is ready for inspection, sir!” He announced sturdily. He made sure not to flinch an inch as he saluted.

The major returned the salute. “Very good, leutnant.” He didn’t often inspect the troops of the compound, but.. well… things hadn’t been normal recently. The parade ground was little more than a stretch of well-maintained grass at the foot of the hills on which the manor compound was situated. About half a kilometre east on the plain, tents of various sizes stretched long and wide, separated into areas designated for the military of each imperial fief.

The last few weeks had been pain and agony. Atlas had never been adept at organisation - the main reason he stopped getting promoted, - and having to help organise the accommodations, logistics, and activities for thousands of troops from across the empire had been a headache unfelt since the ouchie of ‘01. As such, he had grown to treasure his few moments he could actually spend with the troops, even if they technically weren’t his. His troops formed the left wing of the 5th Vinnin Regiment’s deployment, Major Lightwing had the troops in the centre, where the compound was.

However, just as he was about to step forward to inspect the zug, another griffon flew in from the side. She dropped to the ground about ten paces away, as was protocol, and approached on paw.

“Sir.” The young griffoness hailed him. Martin recognised her as one of the NCOs on messenger duty, so he turned to face her. They saluted, and then the sergeant spoke her message.

“Sir, your presence is requested by the oberstleutnant.”

“How soon, sergeant?”

“He specified a pre-lunch meeting, sir.”

“Thank you, sergeant. You are dismissed.”

The sergeant saluted again, and after taking a few back paces, flew off again, leaving Martin wondering.

Interesting

Pre-lunch meetings weren’t the most uncommon thing, but certainly an unplanned one was a cause for raised eyebrows. Since lunch was 1:30 PM, pre-lunch meetings were normally at 1. A quick check of his pocket-watch determined the time to be 12:42, still a bit of time.

“Well, back to the inspection, then.” He said, turning back to face the leutnant and his zug.

---

The silence of the bedroom was disturbed only by the scritch scritch of pen on paper. At her desk, Felizia Greytail slaved away at her report on the herbs of Strawberry. Both a botany student at Yale and a major in the Reichsarmee, Felizia caused no end of frustration for her professors, who had to jump through every hoop possible to accommodate her. Meanwhile, she cackled from the comfort of a comfortable existence far away from the campus lifestyle and radicals. While her colleagues pined for greater postings, the turquoise-coloured griffoness was delighted at the peacefulness of it all.

She finished the stroke on the last word, and reread the conclusion.

In conclusion, The viticulture of the northern Herzlands has overshadowed the potential for the growth of other useful crops. The lands of Strawberry are home to many interesting specimens of herbs: both those that can be used to cure a multitude of ailments and those which are pleasing to the tongue and nose.

She thought a moment, before striking out ‘tongue and nose’ and replacing it with ‘senses.’ She took a moment to stand up, and paced around the room to stimulate her mind. As she did, she became aware of pawsteps in the hallway. She wondered if they were coming towards her room. The steps stopped in front of her door, and a soft knocking manifested. Felizia kept a straight face, slightly annoyed at the interruption to her precious writing session.

“Who is it?” she asked, mild frustration evident on her face.

“Messenger, ma’am.” came a feminine voice from the other side.

“Speak quickly,” Felizia responded.

“Your presence is requested by Oberstleutnant Dawnclaw for a meeting.”

Felizia felt a grumble grow in her throat. “This is during my time, when am I required to be there?”

“The oberstleutnant is aware, and personally apologises. It is a pre-lunch meeting, so likely around the normal time.” explained the voice.

A sigh of resignation escaped. “Inform him that I shall be there shortly.”

“Yes ma’am!” And with that, she heard the pawsteps travel in the direction they had come from. They’d already had a meeting this morning, and now he wanted them again? Something important must have come up. Despite his high standards for his officers, Dawnclaw still respected Felizia’s studies, and usually let her be while she was working. Something must have come up that required immediate attention.

Her uniform hung by the door, beckoning to her once again. She sat back, knowing full well she couldn’t continue writing with her current thoughts racing through her head.

---

From Besanmiers, any griffon who looked north-east could make out the twin hills Einsam and Georges Sturz rising in the distance, with a number of smaller hills scattered around the base of the two. Atop Einsam, the Dawn manor presided over the surrounding countryside. If one had a particularly keen eye, they could also make out the buildings that sat around the summit of Georges Sturz.

The trip along the road from the village had been appalling for Gitta, as the ‘road’ was little more than a dirt thoroughfare quickly worn down by the large traffic of Katze army trucks that travelled it every day. She had been jostled and shaken the entire way, turning a twenty minute drive into what had felt like forever.

But now, from Einsam, Gitta could make out Besanmiers, now a speck in the distance. The manor and the buildings on Georges Sturz - which from where she was were obviously barracks and a few halls - formed the compound for the headquarters of the 7th regiment of the Treu Division - the Vinnin Steelrainers, - Ferdinand Dawnclaw’s regiment.

She bid a temporary farewell to Ernst as he went back to reintegrate with his zug, leaving her standing alone in front of the manor, pouch by her side. The manor itself wasn’t anything to be particularly proud of in terms of architecture. It had been built to be comfortable for officers, strong enough to not fall apart if hit by a strong gust of wind or an artillery shell, and cheap enough that if it did get destroyed, it wouldn’t have been a massive waste of money. It was small, requiring a few rooms to accommodate nineteen officers who slept there, plus a few facilities. It sat facing the northwest, towards Georges Sturz. In a rather standard general design, there were two wings that wrapped around perpendicular to the centre structure and created a small courtyard in the centre, of which the only entrance into the manor being on the far end of. Windows were few, but strategically placed to have the greatest lines of view over the courtyard and grounds in front. The roof was reinforced to provide some protection against aforementioned artillery.

Gitta took a breath, and strode towards the entrance. Her mindset was on getting the package off her person, as that might provide some relief to the onslaught of questions bubbling in her brain. Hanging over the doors was a carved depiction of Arcturius - the griffon god of war - leading an imperial army and guiding volleys of musket fire against their enemies.

The plain double doors opened with only a small creak when she pushed them. There was no butler, or any other kind of servant, really. Dawnclaw didn’t hire servants, and instead rotated korporalschafts to perform the maintenance duties. So, if one wanted to open the doors to enter the manor, they only had to push - so long as the doors were unlocked.

The entrance hall was comparatively quite small. The main feature was a thin, off-centre staircase, which connected with a walkway that ran left and right to the top floors of the wings. There were four cased openings, one each on the west and east sides, a big one on the far wall lined up with the entrance doors, and a smaller one on the other side of the staircase. The room lacked windows. Instead, the room was lit by a skylight, courtesy of the high ceiling. On the walls of the second story-height walls, little indents in the wood betrayed firing slits to a person looking for them.

Dawnclaw’s office was on the second story. She climbed the staircase, and turned into the right passage. The second story hallways ran right above the hallways below, and together, they formed the ‘skeleton’ of the building. The ‘meat on the bones’ - the rooms - were on the inside and outside of this framework. Most of the outer rooms were small bedrooms, studies, and such. On the inside, rooms like the kitchen, recreational rooms, armouries, etc.

Dawnclaw’s office was the outside corner room at the junction between the centre structure and the east wing, so she quickly made her way there, eager to be done with her little mission. She wondered at the lack of movement in the manor. It wasn’t - she checked her watch to make sure - lunch time yet, so where were the caretakers? The lack of griffons served only to increase her growing uneasiness. As she approached the office door, it opened. She steadied herself, ready to confront th-

However, instead of the albino oberstleutnant, out came a uniformed, frustrated turquoise griffoness whom she knew well.

“Good afternoon, Felizia.”

Felizia started a bit. “Oh, it’s you. Good afternoon to you too, Gitta.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Gitta said, a small exhalation of air escaping her nose in humour.

“It’s been too quiet. I was called out of my room about.. ten minutes ago, and I haven’t seen any of the soldiers on duty, nor any of the officers who usually sit around.”

“You noticed that too? I’d thought it might be the norm due to the exercises. Do you know why?”

“No clue, but we have a surprise meeting in about ten minutes. Only found out about six ago, and the oberstleutnant refuses to tell me why.”

“Huh... well, I have this package to give to the oberstleutnant.”

“So.. a week-long vacation, leaving us here to work in your absence, and all you have to show for it is a present for Dawnclaw?”

“He… he asked me to.”

Now it was Felizia’s turn to ‘huh,’ before visibly having a thought, and smirking. “What did you do to upset him?”

“N-”

The door opened suddenly, startling both majors, and revealing the white plumed, red eyed, and uniformed figure of Ferdinand Dawnclaw.

“No, I had some other.. more personal reasons for sending her out.” he said, smiling.

“Speak of Maar…” said Felizia, jokingly.

Ferdinand cut her off before she had an opportunity to finish the sentence, “…Are you setting up for another ‘and Ferdinand will appear’ joke?”

“I might be.”

Ferdinand sighed, then turned to Gitta. “Good to see you got my package, and.. even better that it’s still in one piece.”

“Trust well placed.” Gitta reported as she passed it to him.

“I hardly doubted you…” Ferdinand trailed off as he inspected it. He stood for a moment, apparently in deep thought. It took a dozen seconds before he continued. “Well, you should probably get dressed up. If Felizia didn’t tell you, I’ve called a meeting in a few minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’ll be seeing you shortly.” he said as he retreated into his office, leaving the two almost as quickly as he had appeared.

Gitta broke off from her conversation with Felizia with a few words. She now had even more questions.

---

Ferdinand sat at his desk, blankly staring. Deep in thought, he envisioned multiple outcomes for this meeting, some good(?), some bad(?). What could even be considered a good outcome? He found an interesting clarity with future events so close. He knew what needed to be done.. patriotism guided his actions, not selfish or evil thoughts. A claw to the Iron Cross around his neck, an upward gaze to the flag hanging on the wall, the weight of medals on his uniform, it was all for the greater good. Why should it be, that one, two, or even three morally questionable actions should condemn him, when doing none would condemn billions.

Yes…

Clarity was sweet. It was relieving. It was good.

He checked his watch, just about time. He could hear chatting outside the door. He waited…

Time to take the leap.

Comments

[History Student]

This has made me want to play the Ferdinand path, it’s the only empire path I’ve never done before.