Black Skies Ep.1 (IC, MT/PMT FanT, Closed)

[Wolfenium]

BLACK SKIES: THE SEER OF ALFHEIM
Episode 1: Sirens of the North
OOC Discussion

Akershus Fortress, Oslo, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland
Oslo, capital of the Kingdom of Norway, and part of the United Kingdom of Baltland. The center of the local Norwegian government, Oslo was second only to the royal capital of Stockholm, under the dominant Swedish monarchy. And yet, Oslo was a land fracturing under the weight of conflicting influences from its past unions with Denmark and its more recent Swedish overlords. With Copenhagen under the full sway of the German Karlslandic union, Sweden had been given free reign over Baltlandic policies, and despite attempts to mitigate friction between Stockholm and its dependencies with social and linguistic freedom, public sentiments were firmly in favour of autonomy and independence. For now, Oslo remained an integral part of the Baltlandic union, but time would tell if it would eventually become the capital of an independent Norway.

Seated in a velvet rose armchair in the middle of a hall in Akershus Fortress, a young man with dark brown hair and eyes gazed coldly at the flatscreen television set hung at the end of the room. Third in line to the Baltlandic crowns, Duke Wilhelm Vasa of Östergötland was once heir apparent under the old agnatic succession laws of Sweden. A calm, collected nobleman with a regal, Gothic feel, Wilhelm's popularity remained fairly high among the kingdoms' females. The younger brother of the current king, Wilhelm had and still readies himself to become the king of a united Baltland. However, changes in the constitution in 1980 displaced the young Wilhelm as heir in favour of the king's eldest daughter, Crown Princess Carla Gustav Adolph. Considered a 'degenerate party animal' by the straight-laced Wilhelm, Carla was anything but a proper lady and queen. A race hound with an affinity to the sky, the witch-princess had always been more comfortable in fatigues than a dress. While publicly supportive of the changes and Carla's ascendency, rumours swirled of Wilhelm's disgust for the free-loving crown princess. Coupled with the birth of Carla's Princess Christina, Wilhelm could not hope to gain the throne now, not without resorting to the kind of medieval-style intrigue that would rile the population against him.

Facing him in the video feed was another young man with sleek black hair and eyes, seated behind an oak desk as dim sunlight shone in glimmers through the red curtains behind him. With a Japanese blade laid beside him and an ornate Oriental-style uniform, the man exhumed a very Japonic image. But Wilhelm heard otherwise about his guest, a 'Germanic' supremacist from an otherworldly, heathen realm. If it were any other godfearing Protestant Lutheran, they would have never hear of him, let alone speak.

"You've done your research, Your Excellency," the man in the video replied to Wilhelm, "in fact, I'm surprised you've even heard of us at all. We do not normally make it a point to extend a hand of friendship to just anyone, but your request is most interesting."

"Your combat mages are not restricted by age or gender, Defence Minister Honecker," Wilhelm answered calmly, "and witch-killing is their foremost claim to fame. If fate would have it, I'd rather train them over witches any day. I find it disturbing to rely on young girls for our national defence, not that I wish to criticise your's."

"No offence taken, Your Excellency," the politician stated with a small smirk, "I myself can find few who could comprehend our situation. Nonetheless, I am torn over your request. After all, they are the best we have."

"And that is why I wish to see for myself what they are capable of," Wilhelm reiterated his call, "our enemies are many, and are far more capable of fielding larger numbers against us. My family's lands have already been trimmed away by the Hozenhollerns and Romanovs, and I do not intend to leave the matter as it is. That is why I need to find an alternative to the witches, where the peak of their power doesn't wane with adulthood."

Pausing a moment, Sigurd Honecker seemed a bit conflicted at the decision. They could afford to send any normal combat mage unit, but to send them would be a huge dent to their firepower. On the other hand, there were many invitees within Baltland's upcoming meet that he would want information on, and the host had already made it clear he wanted to see the infamous Mobile Section Six. It was a chance to gain a suitable ally when their own position is being pressed by greater powers. Ultimately, he had to make sure that their 'situation' allowed for it. And based on his assessment, he needed more discussion.

"I'm afraid I will need more time to consider," Sigurd replied, "I will need to speak with the cabinet about this. For now, I will need to request a reservation on our behalf. I apologize if there are any inconveniences involved."

"No need," Wilhelm told him, fairly pleased with the response, "this is of vital importance to your military. I do not wish to have you rush to a decision. Do let me know as soon as possible, however. I do not wish to fault on planning over one missing invitation.

"Rest assured," Sigurd gave his last word, "I will."

As the television screen blanked out, Wilhelm himself contemplated his conversation. If there was one aim he had, it was boosting Baltland's anti-magic capability. Witches were far from Baltland's strong points compared to its neighbours, and its ranks had to be constantly changed, a problem the larger empires around the Baltic never had to worry of. Wilhelm needed an edge, and troops whose experience would not be wasted in a decade. And no one on Earth seemed able at killing witches more than their closest rivals, and Wilhelm was keen to break Baltland's accursed non-belligerence, even if he had to drag it out bleeding.

---

Flesland Air Station, Bergen, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland

Flesland Air Station, Bergen.

Watching by the side in a large beige jacket as large snowploughs clear the airstrip, Sergeant First Class Christina Vasa felt a bit unnerved at the coming arrival of the visitors. A greenhorn freshly out of flight school, the young witch felt a bit burdened trying to be the foremost representative of Baltland. Unlike her elder sister, Carla, Christina shied away from the limelight in a shrivel. Unsettled by media attention, she often had to be shielded by her mother and sister throughout her life on end. But now fifteen and a witch in the Baltlandic Air Force, Christina no longer had the luxury to hide. Selected as part of her squadron to join the White Skies Meet, she was hard-pressed to give the visitors a show of Baltlandic steel, and save her sister from further embarrassment.

Twiddling her thumbs, she awaited the call to form the reception for any arriving delegation. Seated with her teammates, Olivia and Ásdís, they were clearly not up for the task. All they could hope for was for their superiors, Carla and Maeja to return. Christina herself would have shuddered to face the scowl of any cocky foreign witch or pilot on her own.

[The Grey Wolf]

One small plane appeared above the landing strip, accompanied by two other military transport crafts. Inside the plane, Lt. Colonel Wilhelmina Wolff sat, twiddling her thumbs, eyes closed. The rest could not be said for the other passengers. Lieutenant Lupa was jumping around, probably due to that chocolate bar Wilhelmina caught her eating before the take-off. Geraldine, the one officer she could count on, was latched onto her seat, looking frightened. She could fly on her own and be fine, but put her in an aircraft that's flying, and she goes crazy. Lieutenant Ilse McAleese sat, arms crossed, while trying to ignore a pleading Rowena trying to pull her out of the seat. "No Ilse, that's my seat."

Wilhelmina opened her eyes as they were about to land. Finally. Geraldine was the first to jump up, making her way to the door before they even landed. Rowena just stood dejectedly, not thinking to take another seat. Lupa was singing "Mother Grey Wolf, we salute you." and jumping off the walls.

The plane landed, followed up by the two aircrafts accompanying them. When the door opened, Geraldine walked out, panting from exhaustion. Ilse got up from her seat and exited the aircraft as well. Rowena, Schindler, and any others followed them. Wilhelmina was the last to exit the plane, wanting to make sure she remembered all the orders and protocols the Storm Commander taught her.

[Nachfolgia]

Flesland Air Station, Bergen, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland

All day long, C-160 Transalls landed on the small snow covered landing strip. Their woodland tri-color camouflage stood out against the white backdrop, looking like a big dark blob. The only part of the cargo planes that was no camouflaged was the tail, painting with the Nachfolgian flag and the Luftwaffe Balkenkreuz. Like a continuous line, the Nachfolgian cargo planes land and their crews quickly unload the cargo, using forklifts and hand trucks that were the first to arrive in one of the earlier landings. The forklifts were constantly moving in a line back and forth from the planes to several hangers that were designated for the Nachfolgians Like a colony of ants, the crews, dressed in Wooland flecktarn cold weather uniforms, offloaded the cargo and the plane was off again so the next one can land. The Nachfolgians were constantly moving, which helped them keep warm in the harsh baltland snow. The Nachfolgians were not really used to this kind of weather, Nachfolgia being in southern Europe and having hundreds of miles of coastline. All the equipment the air crews were offloading was in support of the JG 71 SS fighter wing and the newly formed JG 63w, both of which would be landing shortly.

" Mach Schnell! Wir müssen uns diese Ladung entladen, so dass die nächste landen!" A crew chief was yelling to his subordinates as he waved them on to go faster, which was replied to by several "Jawohl". Once the last of the crates was off of the plane, the Chief called over to the pilot using his headset. " NA-393, dies ist Grund crewe. Sie sind klar für den Start. HOWCOPY? " " Roger, Grund Crewe. Vorbereitung für den Start". The pilot replied back. The co-pilot began to flip a couple of switches. " Kraftstoffniveaus nenn...Öldruck nenn...Sauerstoffwerte nenn...Kabinendruck Nenn. Alle Systeme A-OK." The Co-pilot listed off. " Schließen Frachttür." The pilot said as he flipped a switch, causing the cargo door to close. " Bereit für den Start. Löschen Sie die Landebahn." The pilot called over the radio as he started the engines. The propellers sputtered to life and spun faster until it became a continuous roar. The pilot released the wheel brake and the plane began to slowly roll down the runway. The plane turned around at the end of the runway, facing towards the long end. The Pilot then opened up the throttle and the plane started moving, going faster as it went down the runway. Within seconds, the cargo plane left the ground and started it's several hour trip back to the heart of Nachfolgia, being one of many that will make the flight back and forth.

[Wolfenium]

One small plane appeared above the landing strip, accompanied by two other military transport crafts. Inside the plane, Lt. Colonel Wilhelmina Wolff sat, twiddling her thumbs, eyes closed. The rest could not be said for the other passengers. Lieutenant Lupa was jumping around, probably due to that chocolate bar Wilhelmina caught her eating before the take-off. Geraldine, the one officer she could count on, was latched onto her seat, looking frightened. She could fly on her own and be fine, but put her in an aircraft that's flying, and she goes crazy. Lieutenant Ilse McAleese sat, arms crossed, while trying to ignore a pleading Rowena trying to pull her out of the seat. "No Ilse, that's my seat."

Wilhelmina opened her eyes as they were about to land. Finally. Geraldine was the first to jump up, making her way to the door before they even landed. Rowena just stood dejectedly, not thinking to take another seat. Lupa was singing "Mother Grey Wolf, we salute you." and jumping off the walls.

The plane landed, followed up by the two aircrafts accompanying them. When the door opened, Geraldine walked out, panting from exhaustion. Ilse got up from her seat and exited the aircraft as well. Rowena, Schindler, and any others followed them. Wilhelmina was the last to exit the plane, wanting to make sure she remembered all the orders and protocols the Storm Commander taught her.

Standing at attention at the appearance of Wilhelmina, a young guard in a standard issue jacket over his blue uniform in full dress greeted her and her girls with a salute as he announced, "welcome to Baltland, Madam. I am Fanjunkare Iver Andersson of the Baltlandic Air Force, and I will be your guide and if possible, interpreter for the meet. For now, I've been instructed to escort you around the grounds to orientate you to the base before we meet in the mess hall for the inauguration dinner. If you have any questions, Madam, feel free to ask. I will try my best to answer as best as I can."

---

Log Cabin, Unknown Location, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland

Located at the edge of a remote fjord in Norway, a large black van silently pulled over outside a deserted log cabin. Climbing off were an ungainly mob of pale-skinned lads in gaudy black leather, and Nazi-esque uniforms, sporting a set of hunting rifles, shotguns and even automatic rifles. Marching towards the log cabin in ranks, an air of nervousness was filling the air. These Neo-Nazis, among the very few fringe groups in Baltland, were out to join the most enigmatic and powerful Nordicist organization in Europe - the Ravensborn. Formed by a Neopagan ex-terrorist named Haldor Voll, Ravensborn was ostensibly a peaceful Neopagan evangelical society. Advocating the acceptance of all races to the House of Odin, Ravensborn appeared to run counter to the Neo-Nazis' Hitlerite agenda. But rumours of its mysticism and mystery was enough to draw them to the closed society, so much so they were willing to deal with whatever trial they had to face.

"You got the sacrifice," questioned one of the leaders, glaring back at the van with shadowed eyes. Echoing sinister chuckles, a few of the pseudo-soldiers at the back eagerly yanked open the van's back doors. Inside laid a panicking young blonde girl, dressed in a simple baby blue dress and jacket as she struggled against her rope binds and taped mouth. Dragging her out against her will in the snows, the mob soon barged in to the dimly lit log cabin, guns raised as they prepare to face their challenge. Facing a lone shadow seated in an armchair, the leader was quick to bellow out their introduction.

"Greetings, host," howled a large skinhead man, dressed in a large leather jacket over his SS-like uniform, "I am Oberst Magnus, son of Torvald! Me and my noble band of the Black Eagle Brotherhood seeks an audience with the Seer of the Elves, as per your agent's request! Speak, for we are ready for her trial!"

A glimmer of light soon falling on the shadow, the figure was soon revealed. Draped in an oak green cloak and an ornate silver mask, the figure lifted her head with intrigue. Her hidden eyes fixed at the tall skinhead, the figure spoke in a ginger, grandmotherly voice, "calm yourself, child... There is no need to shout... The person you seek is right before you, though I dare not claim that I represent the Alfar in any capacity."

Looking a bit surprised, the leader quickly got on his knees prostrating himself as his surprised subordinates aimlessly followed suit. Brimming with excitement, the leader quickly stood up, gesturing to his prisoner as he told the seer, "you shortchange yourself, great one! Word of your immense power has spread to the very corners of Midgard! We have even arranged a virgin sacrifice in your honour! A witch of pure Aryan blood to be offered to the gods in your name-"

"'The gods'," questioned the faceless seer with intrigue, "you mean 'your gods', don't you? Do not misunderstand me, but while I offer my knowledge to the Ravensborn, I do not profess to be a follow of the Allfather. My gods are beyond your comprehension, and too distant to be heard. Therefore, it would have been pointless to perform a Blot in my name, a woman who, for a lack of a better definition, is an infidel."

Bewildered by her words, the Neo-Nazis had reason to be confused. If she was not a Neo-Norse, what kind of gods was she praying to? And why the long explanations, and the point of the kidnapping? It all felt like a joke to them, and they was having trouble taking it.

"Oi, oi," barked another Neo-Nazi, raising his shotgun at her, "what's the meaning of this? Is this some kind of prank!?"

"Calm down..." the seer spoke in a delicate voice, "we haven't even started the trial yet... Rest assured, this is no trick... I suppose I'll accept your... gift in return for a chance to prove yourself..."

Looking unnerved by the unsettling calm in her voice, the Neo-Nazis were not sure if she were serious or not. In fact, a lot of her riddles appeared designed for pure mockery. But the mood around them seemed far from the case, as if hidden eyes were prying for weakness in the dark corners of the room. Unwilling to agitate her lest she was really the real seer, the cautious leader bellowed, "of-of course! What bold deed must we perform!? Slay a giant beast!? Wade the raging seas!? The Black Eagles will face any death-defying challenge!"

"My... what proud words," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "but I see no reason to waste manpower here. A simple proof of piety will do. All you need to do is offer your hearts to me. Doing that alone will warrant a pass."

Beaming over the apparent simplicity, the skinhead leader quickly pounded his fist at his chest, howling proudly as he declared, "that goes without saying! Command me as you wish, great one! Together, we will purge the followers of the White God from our sacred domain!"

Looking over their leader, several more quickly followed suit. While the rest had the mind to do the same, they could not help but hesitate at the pause. The seer did not appear impressed by their leader's show, and the vagueness of her trial only made matters more confusing. But before they could act, the seer tilted her head slightly. Speaking in a dark, unamused tone, she finally uttered a command to one of her hidden agent, "do it."

To their shock, a sudden beam of red light surged out from the shadows as it seared right through the mortified leader, reducing his body to dust. Before long, several others were incinerated as well, all of whom had blindly saluted as their leader did. Laughing madly, a devious redheaded man in a casual suit quietly emerged from the darkness. His hand smoking as if having casted a spell, he mocked the remaining Neo-Nazis in a strange Dutch-like accent, "FAIL! Do you honestly think she was stating that figuratively? Anyone could have saluted and be done with it. No, you might want to double-check with Granny what she meant..."

Gripping their weapons in fright, the surviving Neo-Nazis were scared out of their wits. While they could tell he was one of the seer's assistants, the startlingly swift deaths of their comrades had put them on edge. Their eyes twitching towards the seer, it appeared none had the guts to ask. Noticing the apprehension, all the seer could do was sigh.

"Very well," she muttered in disappointment, slightly less cordial than before, "I will make this clear for you to understand... I want you to offer your hearts to me... Literally... This means you have to carve out your heart and give it to me... It's that simple-"

"S-S-Simple," howled a panicked Neo-Nazi, standing up in apprehension at the command, "you're insane! We need our heart to live! If we carve it out, we'd be dead in seconds-"

But cut short in his words, the protester too was suddenly incinerated by the redhead caretaker, his cackles growing louder than ever. Gesturing at the pile of dust where he once stood, "wrong! You failed too! You're not supposed to say 'no' to Granny Magda! So then!? Who else thinks this task is fatal? Rest assured, I'll make your choices much easier..."

At this point, it had become painfully clear they were in a death trap. Mortified by the revelation, the remainder could not help but fall into a panic. Raising their guns at the seer, a horrified skinhead yelled at the top of his lungs as he and some of his comrades began spraying their rounds at the seer. But watching as the rounds began to rebound from a magic barrier, the calm seer simply relished the looks of horror on the unworthy's faces as they were erased by her subordinate. As the lad made quick work of the dissenters, another, young girl with sickly purple hair and lifeless crimson eyes stepped forth. Her hand raised to keep the barrier up, she appeared unfazed at the routing taking place.

Shivering in horror as their comrades were being slaughtered, the survivors soon opted to escape, racing for the door hoping they do not get caught in the raving redhead's attack. But inches from the bright light of the door, a shadow soon dropped in to block their escape. A young teenage girl with a ghostly pale appearance and blazing eyes, she sported a similarly pale bodysuit and an enormous, skull-like headdress with tentacles. Seizing several of her unwitting victims with her machine-like limbs, the hapless skinheads were instantly crushed like cans, a sickly crunching sound following suit. Tormented by the sight, the whittled resistance tried to open fire at her. But as the ghostly girl raised her staff, their rounds rebounded as well. It was then the gleeful lad stepped in to finish the job, raising his hand as he proceeded to disintergrate the rest of the Neo-Nazis at point blank.

"You should have tried carving out your heart, dummy," he quipped, grasping the head of one final Neo-Nazi, "at least you could have given yourself a few more seconds."

With that, the petrified skinhead was incinerated with the rest, leaving no trace of the proud Neo-Nazi group that tried to solicit their attention earlier. Glancing down at the mortified girl in her binds, the redhead lad could not help but grin. Grasping at the weeping girl's head, he mused, "my, my... whatever shall we do with you?... Can't expect to leave witnesses, can we? Then again, you're too cute to waste. What's your word, Granny? Can I have my fun with her?"

"Don't be silly, Baldr," the masked seer answered, getting off her seat, "she's has far too much potential to waste... Níðhöggr," she commanded the ghost-like girl, "handle her... I want to hear her speak."

Stepping in as the disgruntled Baldr stepped away, the pale girl swiftly ripped off the tap gagging the prisoner's mouth in pure silence. Frightened and confused, the tearful girl whispered, "what do you want with me?... I don't understand... I don't want to die..."

Approaching the whimpering girl as Níðhöggr settled her upright, the seer made a solemn kneel, pulling back her hood as she pried aside her mask. An aged, elderly woman with ash grey hair, the seer made a gentle smile as she explained, "relax... I am not here to take your life... The only lives I will claim are those who defile the name of the Asgardians and deny those of different birth the right to serve them."

"She means she's not racist," Baldr translated in jest, "she doesn't think that a black or Paki Norse pagan is strange. You don't see that very often."

"In any case," she mused, "I sense much power in you, and I hope you could me a demonstration. Rest assured, I will not harm you if you refuse, and will send you home regardless. Níðhöggr, release her."

Looking a bit bewildered as the ghost-girl untied her, the fearful child had the urge to flee this very instant. However, a mix of fear and warmth kept her back as she continued to gaze into Magda's eyes. There was something about her she did not understand. But she felt a strange compulsion to follow, unsure if she was being cajoled out of fear or trust of the seer. Summoning her familiar, a pair of white rabbit ears and a cotton tail appeared on her. As magic coursed through her body, a bright antennae-like spell began to form over her head. Eventually, it took the form of a dharma wheel, quite clearly a reason for the Neo-Nazis' targeting of her. After a few seconds, the girl's antennae vanished, breathing a gasp as she felt a bit drained.

"What do you think, Mother," the solemn, purple-haired girl questioned, "does her talents please you?"

Smiling a bit, Magda merely said, "yes... Yes, she does, Sjöfn... And a pity, really... I've seen many witches in my day, all of whom wanted my head... I have tried to bring them to the fold, but they've proven a lot more resistant to the truth than I wished..."

"Well, this isn't Alfheim, or whatever you call your world, Granny," Baldr interjected in jest, "I'm sure you'll get along better with Ann's witches."

Glaring over the frightened witch, Magda did not seem all that assured. After all, witches seem to have a natural aversion to her. But beyond their religious affiliation, she could not explain why. Nonetheless, she hoped to change that perception soon, if she could help it.

"I do hope so," she muttered, reaching her palm in front of the witch, "Ann seemed to be adverse to me too." To her surprise, the witch could feel her mind empty almost instantly, blacking out at Magda's quick spell as she slumped over. Hauling her up, Níðhöggr quietly brought her out, as Sjöfn followed behind. As Baldr stepped out to erase any remaining evidence, Magda could not help but keep silent. It had been too long since she left, and she was growing weary... weary of the silence her gods had given to her.

"I am tired, Bright Goddess," Magda whispered to herself, "what purpose do I have left, when my voice cannot reach any man beyond your realm..."

[Minroz]

Popping out of the green portal, somewhere in the North Sea, is the small fleet of two Antonov planes with one Boeing 737 in the lead. What stands them out is that they all painted in military schemes, modified as VTOL-capability and their tails have Sunnymoon insignias painted on it. It’s the Minrozians, they have finally arrived at their destination. Its passengers however are carrying only the members of Turtle, Tiger, Phoenix and half of Dragon Group. The others are still on their way.

“Thank the Gods we arrived. I’m not sure if I can’t stand waiting around, all cooped up in the plane.” Xize Fangzi whooped. She’s the most liveliest witch of the whole group who were assembled to be participated in the White Skies meet on orders of the Kuomintang-led government. Her comrades in the plane, be it from the army, the Kheshig (Special Forces) and the airforce couldn’t help but feel brighten up by her enthusiasm.

“Says who likes to fly? Technically we’re flying too.” quipped Meiya from her seat, crossing her arms. Colonel Apalkova is the daughter of Ruuz father and Minrozian mother – a Eurasian in other words. A respectable commander and warrior, she’s known to be a casual person who preferred treating her subordinates as her family. Like her fellow witches, she earned her rank by hard-work. Moreover, Meiya is best friends with the Minrozian Crown Princess herself.

“Hey!” Fangzi pouted. “This is different from flying on striker packs! What can I do from dying of boredom?”

She’s not the only one trying to entertain herself, trying to get away from boredom. The jovial Feng twins, Ming-er and Minlan, are playing a game of patty-cake. Min, Daya and Ami are playing cards with the pinkette Medekhgui, the brash dog-boy Gou Tailang and redheaded Mandu. Added to that are the few of the most prominent ace witches, Gong Yumei, Lyuba Kozheduba, Meiya Apalkova, Choybalsan Amira and her best friend Almas Maimur they were chatting together. As well as the two mages Ying Xiaoniao and Linglai Yue and the Spec-op vanguard Gaogong Manyi.

And finally Yumemiya Arika of the Shaonus and Ya Chana of the Yeni-zeris, both are Imperial Guards. Their very presence indicates that they’re not just here for White Skies Meet.

On the whole, they looked a bit like a bunch misfits due to their different backgrounds. Known as the Zodiac Squadron, a newly-formed team comprised of hardened veterans, drawn from the entire Celetsial Army. What they have in common, these people survived many of the bloodiest of battles and gruesome conflicts, even the most naïve of them all have their fair share of battlefield experience. Despite them wearing the Soviet-style uniforms of their respective branches, the Army – green, the Navy – white, the Airforce – blue and finally the Special Forces – red and black, they’re very supportive comrades between one and another working together for the good of Minroz, in the name of their Emperor. Only Arika and Chana wore their oriental-style maid uniforms as opposed to their regular military counterparts, they truly stand out the most.

“I don’t know. Maybe read a book or something?” Mandu shrugged, taking the card from Min’s hand.

“Yeah. Reading is good for you.” Min adds.

“Boring…” Fangzi groans in displeasure.

“Khumaak’s pit, Big sister Xize, we’ll be boots on the ground soon. By the time we'd arrived, we'll have some little fun.” Tailang said.

“Speaking of fun! We can play snowball fights.” Arika piped up.

“Hooray!!!” The boy and the Twins cheered. Chana sighs, being a stickler for strict protocol.

“Nothing wrong with playing kid’s game. Baltland's cold reminded me of our home.” Yumei stated.

“Hey guys, if there’s something I’m looking forward to Baltland. It’s pickled herring and smoked salmon.” Lyuba grins.

“Heh~ you and your salmon.” Xiaoniao rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you getting tired of them?”

“Lyuba, Ying is right. Don’t you think you’ll be bored with eating fishes?” Amira asked.

“Eenope.” The Russo-Minrozian answered happily. “I don’t turned down good food.”

“I do too.” Meiya raised her hand up.

Fangzi sighs, “Well, at least I’m looking forward to Baltlander cuisine. But ye gods, they do looked similar to the Sechs. Coupled with Karlsland and other ‘Scandinavian’ countries”, but their pickled fish is so tasty, hmmm~”

“Ewww~ They’re so briny and sooo disgusting. I don’t know what you see in it.” Manyi looked repulsive. Some of her comrades laughed at her expanse.

“You’ll get used to it. It’s fun to try new things.” Tailang quipped.

“But I don’t normally like eating fish raw.” Maimur gripes.

“There’s nothing wrong with try something new like Manyi said.” Min said cheerfully.

“I am not. Same here with Gaogong.” Ami groans.

“C’mon, it’s just food.” Yumei pouts. “Be lucky I don’t have my brother’s stomach. He’ll complain all day if he didn’t get the food.”

“Oh? That idiot Gaoping?” Daya mentioned. The brunette witch isn’t amused by the palmtop tiger.

“Oi! He may be a moron but he’s my brother!” She whined, comically slamming her cards down on the table. Yumei is very defensive when it comes to her family.

“Aiya! Stop it, please don’t fight!” Minlan flapping her hands at the two. “Aren’t we comrades-in-arms?”

“Gods, I wished to see that.” Ami smirked slyly.

“Me too.” Min joked.

“Me three.” Lyuba agreed in the jesting manner.

“I’m afraid there’ll no fighting in the plane.” Meiya announced, ordering both girls to stop as she got between them.

“Thank gods.” Amira and Chana muttered.

“Welp, Choybalsan, Ya, you can see we’re not just here to compete as soldiers of the Motherland. We’re also here to have fun, according to Ai.” Xiaoniao said.

“Sisters and brother Tailang, do you know Baltland consisted of Norway and Swedan?” Yue questioned, sipping her fish-flavoured juicebox. Some of the girls and Tailang gave puzzled looks and shrugged.

“Where do you get it?” Mandu asked Yue, regarding the strange choice of drink.

“Oh yeah, mentioning of having fun, what about Her Divine Highness, Ai?” Medekhgui brought up.

Their princess in question, Jinmao Aigiarn is sitting in her seat at the back. She’s busy watching the scenery of Baltland, she seemed to admired its view. But…there’s something deeper than her personal sight-seeing.

With the dead silence, her hand suddenly gripped the arm-rest to the point on nearly breaking it. Her subordinates noticed it and beginning to feel concerned. Arika tried to stand up but Meiya stopped her by grabbing the Shaonu’s arm and shook her head. Reluctantly, Arika sat back down.

Aigiarn continued to stare at Baltland’s environment. She never forgotten the day she’s scared for the first time.

---

This is the time she ran like hell. Running away from some mysterious forces who’re hellbent on taking her life. Young Aigiarn sprinted through the splashing mud puddles under the dark, heavy rain. Panting from the running, covered in blood and bruises, she’s trying to escape her pursuers. The skies were nightly dark as she run around the maze of tree forests and ruined buildings. The girl finally found a corner she can escaped in. Once she ran inside, only to find dead end, much to her horror.

She’s trapped! Turning around, Aigiarn heard monstrous howls coming closer to her position. Swallowing her fright, she panicky looked around for any exits or places to hide.

Backing up to the wall, her legs begin to tremble into fear. Poor Ai doesn’t know what to do as terror have finally overwhelmed her mind and soul. She looked like she’s reduced to whimpering child, fearful as the odds being stacked against her.

Aigiarn wanted to live! She missed her home, she missed her friends and finally she missed her dearly beloved family. She cried for her father, cried out for her brothers and finally her late mother.

Snivelling, tears begun to streak down her cheeks as she realised she’s finally surrounded by monsters. The princess inwardly prayed in her heart, she prayed again and again to the Heavens and even the Celestial Ten to save her from this nightmare.

Sinister red eyes appeared from the darkness, showing their sadistic smiles of white teeth. She can hear them giggling like hyenas. These monsters are shaped like wolves and wicked men. They finally found their prey.

“No…no…no…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” young Ai begun to scream towards the heavens as the fowl, evil beasts converged on her.

---

“Ai! Ai! Wake up!” Meiya shouted.

Aigiarn snapped out of her stupor. She looked at her friends and countrymen who looked on in disbelief and worry. Touching her face, she’s realised that she’s sweating.

“Y-your Highness, are you alright?” Chana raised her concern.

The more senior members of Tiger, Turtle and Phoenix group did not try to speak, for they knew Ai is having one of her nightmares. Their younger counterparts however are very worried about their princess’s well-being.

To their surprise, Aigiarn laughs it off but Meiya and her fellow respective colonels aren’t convinced. But they’re not going pressed on with the issue. They knew the scarfaced princess will not tell them her problem. But it hurt their hearts to see Ai suffered like this.

“Don’t worry about me, sisters and lil’ brother Tailang. I’m fine actually. As fine as a happy clam on the beach, hehe~” She chuckled. But she lied, they can tell. If one can see through, she’s actually in deep pain. She is recalling the dark memories of her past, one which haunted her forever. Members of the Zodiacs can relate to it, they themselves

“Oi! Oi! Don’t look at me. I’m fine, really. Go back to what the heck yer doing and let me enjoy sight-seeing. Okay?” Aigiarn said in assuring tone with her cheerful smile.

The whole team exchanged uneasy glances at each other before going back what they’re doing. All in all, they want to help Ai in anywhere they can and to repay her for their past gratitude. To most of the younger members, Aigiarn is their beloved big sister.

Finally, they felt their plane had finally landed on Bergen airstrip, coupled with pilot’s announcement that they have arrived. If any of them looked out of their windows, they can see the Minrozian Antonovs landed like helicopters, thanks to its installed VTOL components. The Minrozians’ adventures in Baltland had begun once they’ve set afoot on the grounds.

[The Grey Wolf]

One small plane appeared above the landing strip, accompanied by two other military transport crafts. Inside the plane, Lt. Colonel Wilhelmina Wolff sat, twiddling her thumbs, eyes closed. The rest could not be said for the other passengers. Lieutenant Lupa was jumping around, probably due to that chocolate bar Wilhelmina caught her eating before the take-off. Geraldine, the one officer she could count on, was latched onto her seat, looking frightened. She could fly on her own and be fine, but put her in an aircraft that's flying, and she goes crazy. Lieutenant Ilse McAleese sat, arms crossed, while trying to ignore a pleading Rowena trying to pull her out of the seat. "No Ilse, that's my seat."

Wilhelmina opened her eyes as they were about to land. Finally. Geraldine was the first to jump up, making her way to the door before they even landed. Rowena just stood dejectedly, not thinking to take another seat. Lupa was singing "Mother Grey Wolf, we salute you." and jumping off the walls.

The plane landed, followed up by the two aircrafts accompanying them. When the door opened, Geraldine walked out, panting from exhaustion. Ilse got up from her seat and exited the aircraft as well. Rowena, Schindler, and any others followed them. Wilhelmina was the last to exit the plane, wanting to make sure she remembered all the orders and protocols the Storm Commander taught her.

Standing at attention at the appearance of Wilhelmina, a young guard in a standard issue jacket over his blue uniform in full dress greeted her and her girls with a salute as he announced, "welcome to Baltland, Madam. I am Fanjunkare Iver Andersson of the Baltlandic Air Force, and I will be your guide and if possible, interpreter for the meet. For now, I've been instructed to escort you around the grounds to orientate you to the base before we meet in the mess hall for the inauguration dinner. If you have any questions, Madam, feel free to ask. I will try my best to answer as best as I can."

---

Log Cabin, Unknown Location, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland

Located at the edge of a remote fjord in Norway, a large black van silently pulled over outside a deserted log cabin. Climbing off were an ungainly mob of pale-skinned lads in gaudy black leather, and Nazi-esque uniforms, sporting a set of hunting rifles, shotguns and even automatic rifles. Marching towards the log cabin in ranks, an air of nervousness was filling the air. These Neo-Nazis, among the very few fringe groups in Baltland, were out to join the most enigmatic and powerful Nordicist organization in Europe - the Ravensborn. Formed by a Neopagan ex-terrorist named Haldor Voll, Ravensborn was ostensibly a peaceful Neopagan evangelical society. Advocating the acceptance of all races to the House of Odin, Ravensborn appeared to run counter to the Neo-Nazis' Hitlerite agenda. But rumours of its mysticism and mystery was enough to draw them to the closed society, so much so they were willing to deal with whatever trail they had to face.

"You got the sacrifice," questioned one of the leaders, glaring back at the van with shadowed eyes. Echoing sinister chuckles, a few of the pseudo-soldiers at the back eagerly yanked open the van's back doors. Inside laid a panicking young blonde girl, dressed in a simple baby blue dress and jacket as she struggled against her rope binds and taped mouth. Dragging her out against her will in the snows, the mob soon barged in to the dimly lit log cabin, guns raised as they prepare to face their challenge. Facing a lone shadow seated in an armchair, the leader was quick to bellow out their introduction.

"Greetings, host," howled a large skinhead man, dressed in a large leather jacket over his SS-like uniform, "I am Oberst Magnus, son of Torvald! Me and my noble band of the Black Eagle Brotherhood seeks an audience with the Seer of the Elves, as per your agent's request! Speak, for we are ready for her trail!"

A glimmer of light soon falling on the shadow, the figure was soon revealed. Draped in an oak green cloak and an ornate silver mask, the figure lifted her head with intrigue. Her hidden eyes fixed at the tall skinhead, the figure spoke in a ginger, grandmotherly voice, "calm yourself, child... There is no need to shout... The person you seek is right before you, though I dare not claim that I represent the Alfar in any capacity."

Looking a bit surprised, the leader quickly got on his knees prostrating himself as his surprised subordinates aimlessly followed suit. Brimming with excitement, the leader quickly stood up, gesturing to his prisoner as he told the seer, "you shortchange yourself, great one! Word of your immense power has spread to the very corners of Midgard! We have even arranged a virgin sacrifice in your honour! A witch of pure Aryan blood to be offered to the gods in your name-"

"'The gods'," questioned the faceless seer with intrigue, "you mean 'your gods', don't you? Do not misunderstand me, but while I offer my knowledge to the Ravensborn, I do not profess to be a follow of the Allfather. My gods are beyond your comprehension, and too distant to be heard. Therefore, it would have been pointless to perform a Blot in my name, a woman who, for a lack of a better definition, is an infidel."

Bewildered by her words, the Neo-Nazis had reason to be confused. If she was not a Neo-Norse, what kind of gods was she praying to? And why the long explanations, and the point of the kidnapping? It all felt like a joke to them, and they was having trouble taking it.

"Oi, oi," barked another Neo-Nazi, raising his shotgun at her, "what's the meaning of this? Is this some kind of prank!?"

"Calm down..." the seer spoke in a delicate voice, "we haven't even started the trial yet... Rest assured, this is no trick... I suppose I'll accept your... gift in return for a chance to prove yourself..."

Looking unnerved by the unsettling calm in her voice, the Neo-Nazis were not sure if she were serious or not. In fact, a lot of her riddles appeared designed for pure mockery. But the mood around them seemed far from the case, as if hidden eyes were prying for weakness in the dark corners of the room. Unwilling to agitate her lest she was really the real seer, the cautious leader bellowed, "of-of course! What bold deed must we perform!? Slay a giant beast!? Wade the raging seas!? The Black Eagles will face any death-defying challenge!"

"My... what proud words," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "but I see no reason to waste manpower here. A simple proof of piety will do. All you need to do is offer your hearts to me. Doing that alone will warrant a pass."

Beaming over the apparent simplicity, the skinhead leader quickly pounded his fist at his chest, howling proudly as he declared, "that goes without saying! Command me as you wish, great one! Together, we will purge the followers of the White God from our sacred domain!"

Looking over their leader, several more quickly followed suit. While the rest had the mind to do the same, they could not help but hesitate at the pause. The seer did not appear impressed by their leader's show, and the vagueness of her trial only made matters more confusing. But before they could act, the seer tilted her head slightly. Speaking in a dark, unamused tone, she finally uttered a command to one of her hidden agent, "do it."

To their shock, a sudden beam of red light surged out from the shadows as it seared right through the mortified leader, reducing his body to dust. Before long, several others were incinerated as well, all of whom had blindly saluted as their leader did. Laughing madly, a devious redheaded man in a casual suit quietly emerged from the darkness. His hand smoking as if having casted a spell, he mocked the remaining Neo-Nazis in a strange Dutch-like accent, "FAIL! Do you honestly think she was stating that figuratively? Anyone could have saluted and be done with it. No, you might want to double-check with Granny what she meant..."

Gripping their weapons in fright, the surviving Neo-Nazis were scared out of their wits. While they could tell he was one of the seer's assistants, the startlingly swift deaths of their comrades had put them on edge. Their eyes twitching towards the seer, it appeared none had the guts to ask. Noticing the apprehension, all the seer could do was sigh.

"Very well," she muttered in disappointment, slightly less cordial than before, "I will make this clear for you to understand... I want you to offer your hearts to me... Literally... This means you have to carve out your heart and give it to me... It's that simple-"

"S-S-Simple," howled a panicked Neo-Nazi, standing up in apprehension at the command, "you're insane! We need our heart to live! If we carve it out, we'd be dead in seconds-"

But cut short in his words, the protester too was suddenly incinerated by the redhead caretaker, his cackles growing louder than ever. Gesturing at the pile of dust where he once stood, "wrong! You failed too! You're not supposed to say 'no' to Granny Magda! So then!? Who else thinks this task is fatal? Rest assured, I'll make your choices much easier..."

At this point, it had become painfully clear they were in a death trap. Mortified by the revelation, the remainder could not help but fall into a panic. Raising their guns at the seer, a horrified skinhead yelled at the top of his lungs as he and some of his comrades began spraying their rounds at the seer. But watching as the rounds began to rebound from a magic barrier, the calm seer simply relished the looks of horror on the unworthy's faces as they were erased by her subordinate. As the lad made quick work of the dissenters, another, young girl with sickly purple hair and lifeless crimson eyes stepped forth. Her hand raised to keep the barrier up, she appeared unfazed at the routing taking place.

Shivering in horror as their comrades were being slaughtered, the survivors soon opted to escape, racing for the door hoping they do not get caught in the raving redhead's attack. But inches from the bright light of the door, a shadow soon dropped in to block their escape. A young teenage girl with a ghostly pale appearance and blazing eyes, she sported a similarly pale bodysuit and an enormous, skull-like headdress with tentacles. Seizing several of her unwitting victims with her machine-like limbs, the hapless skinheads were instantly crushed like cans, a sickly crunching sound following suit. Tormented by the sight, the whittled resistance tried to open fire at her. But as the ghostly girl raised her staff, their rounds rebounded as well. It was then the gleeful lad stepped in to finish the job, raising his hand as he proceeded to disintergrate the rest of the Neo-Nazis at point blank.

"You should have tried carving out your heart, dummy," he quipped, grasping the head of one final Neo-Nazi, "at least you could have given yourself a few more seconds."

With that, the petrified skinhead was incinerated with the rest, leaving no trace of the proud Neo-Nazi group that tried to solicit their attention earlier. Glancing down at the mortified girl in her binds, the redhead lad could not help but grin. Grasping at the weeping girl's head, he mused, "my, my... whatever shall we do with you?... Can't expect to leave witnesses, can we? Then again, you're too cute to waste. What's your word, Granny? Can I have my fun with her?"

"Don't be silly, Baldr," the masked seer answered, getting off her seat, "she's has far too much potential to waste... Níðhöggr," she commanded the ghost-like girl, "handle her... I want to hear her speak."

Stepping in as the disgruntled Baldr stepped away, the pale girl swiftly ripped off the tap gagging the prisoner's mouth in pure silence. Frightened and confused, the tearful girl whispered, "what do you want with me?... I don't understand... I don't want to die..."

Approaching the whimpering girl as Níðhöggr settled her upright, the seer made a solemn kneel, pulling back her hood as she pried aside her mask. An aged, elderly woman with ash grey hair, the seer made a gentle smile as she explained, "relax... I am not here to take your life... The only lives I will claim are those who defile the name of the Asgardians and deny those of different birth the right to serve them."

"She means she's not racist," Baldr translated in jest, "she doesn't think that a black or Paki Norse pagan is strange. You don't see that very often."

"In any case," she mused, "I sense much power in you, and I hope you could me a demonstration. Rest assured, I will not harm you if you refuse, and will send you home regardless. Níðhöggr, release her."

Looking a bit bewildered as the ghost-girl untied her, the fearful child had the urge to flee this very instant. However, a mix of fear and warmth kept her back as she continued to gaze into Magda's eyes. There was something about her she did not understand. But she felt a strange compulsion to follow, unsure if she was being cajoled out of fear or trust of the seer. Summoning her familiar, a pair of white rabbit ears and a cotton tail appeared on her. As magic coursed through her body, a bright antennae-like spell began to form over her head. Eventually, it took the form of a dharma wheel, quite clearly a reason for the Neo-Nazis' targeting of her. After a few seconds, the girl's antennae vanished, breathing a gasp as she felt a bit drained.

"What do you think, Mother," the solemn, purple-haired girl questioned, "does her talents please you?"

Smiling a bit, Magda merely said, "yes... Yes, she does, Sjöfn... And a pity, really... I've seen many witches in my day, all of whom wanted my head... I have tried to bring them to the fold, but they've proven a lot more resistant to the truth than I wished..."

"Well, this isn't Alfheim, or whatever you call your world, Granny," Baldr interjected in jest, "I'm sure you'll get along better with Ann's witches."

Glaring over the frightened witch, Magda did not seem all that assured. After all, witches seem to have a natural aversion to her. But beyond their religious affiliation, she could not explain why. Nonetheless, she hoped to change that perception soon, if she could help it.

"I do hope so," she muttered, reaching her palm in front of the witch, "Ann seemed to be adverse to me too." To her surprise, the witch could feel her mind empty almost instantly, blacking out at Magda's quick spell as she slumped over. Hauling her up, Níðhöggr quietly brought her out, as Sjöfn followed behind. As Baldr stepped out to erase any remaining evidence, Magda could not help but keep silent. It had been too long since she left, and she was growing weary... weary of the silence her gods had given to her.

"I am tired, Bright Goddess," Magda whispered to herself, "what purpose do I have left, when my voice cannot reach any man beyond your realm..."

Wilhelmina saluted the guard, before the other two military transport planes landed.

"I hope it's alright, we have several more planes awaiting confirmation to land." she said, while Lupa hopped past her, and Geraldine was kissing the ground. As if on que, about thirty fighter jets landed.

Soldiers exited the carriers, and pilots their aircrafts. The soldiers wore Storm Wolf insignia, the elite paramilitary of the Fatherland, while the pilots wore Silver Wolf insignia, the airforce.

"Uncle Hermann!" Wilhelmina cried, rushing over and hugging the Storm Wolf Brigadier General Herman Wolff in an open display of affection. The soldiers did not pay any attention to either of them, simply marching to position.

Lupa hopped next to the Baltlander officer. "Excuse me, but do you know where the lady's room is?" while Geraldine was wiping the granite smudge off her lips embarassingly. The Storm Wolf Witches were anarchic.

[Nachfolgia]

Skies over Baltland

High above the snowy landscape of Baltland, several black dots appeared in the cloudy skies. Thirteen in all and flying in formation, these black dots were the JG 63w, Nachfolgia's first ever MSF (Magic Supported Flight) fighter unit. Unlike other country's witches who acted like normal every day teenage girls, the JG 63w, or " Death Angels" as they were called, were trained only to obey every order without question and execute with swift effectiveness, practically breed for combat. In the facility where the Death Angels were formed, a secret underground Lab in the middle of Nachfolgia, the witches underwent terrible tests and exercises to become witches. Since the technology wasn't perfected and only existed in theory along with the Reich's view of magic and underfunding, many magically adept subjects died during the creation of JG 63w Those that survived, thirteen total, did not leave that facility unscathed, almost all of them have scars, whether physical or mental.

True to the Reich's nature of Military superiority and showing off, The Death Angels were sporting some very high tech equipment. Every one of them was wearing a high tech armor system that covered their entire body all the way to their strikers. The armor was heavily plated near vital areas like the chest and neck and had thin articulating armor plates around the joints to give full mobility. The armor was also thick around the forearms and hands where the weapon systems were housed, depending on what the witch's specialty was. The helmet was fully armored with a variety of different capabilities, like target finder, inferred, night vision, and range finder. All of the armor systems looked the same except the helmets, which were shaped to accommodate their familiar's ears. All in all, the Death Angel's armor somewhat resembled a Neuroi witch.

up at the front of the formation was the CO of JG 63w, Major Klaudia von Hertling. She had the SU-47 striker variant and her armor was black in color, stark difference from the other's gray coloring. Using her helmet's display, Klaudia zoomed in to the airfield that was off in the distance. The display outlined Flesland airfield with a light green color, which mad it more visible in the heavy snow. The display also showed the distance from the formation to the base and every bit of information possible.

" Flesland Air field is 2km away. ETA 2 minutes. Prepare to descend and reduce speed." Klaudia said over the radio in her helmet which was replied to by several "Jawohl". Within a couple of seconds, Klaudia swiftly dove down followed by the rest of the formation as they made their approach. It didn't take long before the Death Angels were making their landing run. Each of them flew low to the ground a possible at a reduced speed and when they got to where their hangers were, they kicked their legs out to make them stop. They hovered several feet off the ground while several trucks full of ground crews came and detached the strikers from their legs. Once her strikers were detached, Klaudia took off her helmet, revealing her long blonde hair. She reached into a small compartment in her armor and pulled out her glasses. She then called over the radio using a wireless earpiece

" Nachteule, ist diese Todesengel. Weitflugtest erfolgreich. Alle Systeme zufriedenstellend und die Landung war erfolgreich."

" Roger dass, Todesengel. Standby bis SS-Obersturmbannführer von der Gotz dort ankommt." A voice replied.

" Kopie, stehend von. " Klaudia said as she disconnected from the radio. She then walked over to the others who were standing there waiting for word. " Alright Ladies, We're standing by until the boys from JG 71 arrive. Get some food and change into uniform. Dismissed." The girls saluted their CO before walking off. The second in command, Hauptmann Astrid Haushofer walked over to Klaudia as she was looking down the runway at a couple of people standing in the snow, their images distorted by the heavy snowfall. " Frau Major, all the girl's systems are still operational. No anomalies." Astrid said as she too looked at the unknown group. " Good." Klaudia simply replied. " Is something wrong, Frau Major?" Astrid said with a concerned look. " No, I'm fine Hauptmann. I just have a feeling that this isn't going to be a normal military exercise." Klaudia replied coldly as she watched the group walk off.

[Wolfenium]

Standing at attention at the appearance of Wilhelmina, a young guard in a standard issue jacket over his blue uniform in full dress greeted her and her girls with a salute as he announced, "welcome to Baltland, Madam. I am Fanjunkare Iver Andersson of the Baltlandic Air Force, and I will be your guide and if possible, interpreter for the meet. For now, I've been instructed to escort you around the grounds to orientate you to the base before we meet in the mess hall for the inauguration dinner. If you have any questions, Madam, feel free to ask. I will try my best to answer as best as I can."

---

Log Cabin, Unknown Location, Norway, United Kingdom of Baltland

Located at the edge of a remote fjord in Norway, a large black van silently pulled over outside a deserted log cabin. Climbing off were an ungainly mob of pale-skinned lads in gaudy black leather, and Nazi-esque uniforms, sporting a set of hunting rifles, shotguns and even automatic rifles. Marching towards the log cabin in ranks, an air of nervousness was filling the air. These Neo-Nazis, among the very few fringe groups in Baltland, were out to join the most enigmatic and powerful Nordicist organization in Europe - the Ravensborn. Formed by a Neopagan ex-terrorist named Haldor Voll, Ravensborn was ostensibly a peaceful Neopagan evangelical society. Advocating the acceptance of all races to the House of Odin, Ravensborn appeared to run counter to the Neo-Nazis' Hitlerite agenda. But rumours of its mysticism and mystery was enough to draw them to the closed society, so much so they were willing to deal with whatever trail they had to face.

"You got the sacrifice," questioned one of the leaders, glaring back at the van with shadowed eyes. Echoing sinister chuckles, a few of the pseudo-soldiers at the back eagerly yanked open the van's back doors. Inside laid a panicking young blonde girl, dressed in a simple baby blue dress and jacket as she struggled against her rope binds and taped mouth. Dragging her out against her will in the snows, the mob soon barged in to the dimly lit log cabin, guns raised as they prepare to face their challenge. Facing a lone shadow seated in an armchair, the leader was quick to bellow out their introduction.

"Greetings, host," howled a large skinhead man, dressed in a large leather jacket over his SS-like uniform, "I am Oberst Magnus, son of Torvald! Me and my noble band of the Black Eagle Brotherhood seeks an audience with the Seer of the Elves, as per your agent's request! Speak, for we are ready for her trail!"

A glimmer of light soon falling on the shadow, the figure was soon revealed. Draped in an oak green cloak and an ornate silver mask, the figure lifted her head with intrigue. Her hidden eyes fixed at the tall skinhead, the figure spoke in a ginger, grandmotherly voice, "calm yourself, child... There is no need to shout... The person you seek is right before you, though I dare not claim that I represent the Alfar in any capacity."

Looking a bit surprised, the leader quickly got on his knees prostrating himself as his surprised subordinates aimlessly followed suit. Brimming with excitement, the leader quickly stood up, gesturing to his prisoner as he told the seer, "you shortchange yourself, great one! Word of your immense power has spread to the very corners of Midgard! We have even arranged a virgin sacrifice in your honour! A witch of pure Aryan blood to be offered to the gods in your name-"

"'The gods'," questioned the faceless seer with intrigue, "you mean 'your gods', don't you? Do not misunderstand me, but while I offer my knowledge to the Ravensborn, I do not profess to be a follow of the Allfather. My gods are beyond your comprehension, and too distant to be heard. Therefore, it would have been pointless to perform a Blot in my name, a woman who, for a lack of a better definition, is an infidel."

Bewildered by her words, the Neo-Nazis had reason to be confused. If she was not a Neo-Norse, what kind of gods was she praying to? And why the long explanations, and the point of the kidnapping? It all felt like a joke to them, and they was having trouble taking it.

"Oi, oi," barked another Neo-Nazi, raising his shotgun at her, "what's the meaning of this? Is this some kind of prank!?"

"Calm down..." the seer spoke in a delicate voice, "we haven't even started the trial yet... Rest assured, this is no trick... I suppose I'll accept your... gift in return for a chance to prove yourself..."

Looking unnerved by the unsettling calm in her voice, the Neo-Nazis were not sure if she were serious or not. In fact, a lot of her riddles appeared designed for pure mockery. But the mood around them seemed far from the case, as if hidden eyes were prying for weakness in the dark corners of the room. Unwilling to agitate her lest she was really the real seer, the cautious leader bellowed, "of-of course! What bold deed must we perform!? Slay a giant beast!? Wade the raging seas!? The Black Eagles will face any death-defying challenge!"

"My... what proud words," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "but I see no reason to waste manpower here. A simple proof of piety will do. All you need to do is offer your hearts to me. Doing that alone will warrant a pass."

Beaming over the apparent simplicity, the skinhead leader quickly pounded his fist at his chest, howling proudly as he declared, "that goes without saying! Command me as you wish, great one! Together, we will purge the followers of the White God from our sacred domain!"

Looking over their leader, several more quickly followed suit. While the rest had the mind to do the same, they could not help but hesitate at the pause. The seer did not appear impressed by their leader's show, and the vagueness of her trial only made matters more confusing. But before they could act, the seer tilted her head slightly. Speaking in a dark, unamused tone, she finally uttered a command to one of her hidden agent, "do it."

To their shock, a sudden beam of red light surged out from the shadows as it seared right through the mortified leader, reducing his body to dust. Before long, several others were incinerated as well, all of whom had blindly saluted as their leader did. Laughing madly, a devious redheaded man in a casual suit quietly emerged from the darkness. His hand smoking as if having casted a spell, he mocked the remaining Neo-Nazis in a strange Dutch-like accent, "FAIL! Do you honestly think she was stating that figuratively? Anyone could have saluted and be done with it. No, you might want to double-check with Granny what she meant..."

Gripping their weapons in fright, the surviving Neo-Nazis were scared out of their wits. While they could tell he was one of the seer's assistants, the startlingly swift deaths of their comrades had put them on edge. Their eyes twitching towards the seer, it appeared none had the guts to ask. Noticing the apprehension, all the seer could do was sigh.

"Very well," she muttered in disappointment, slightly less cordial than before, "I will make this clear for you to understand... I want you to offer your hearts to me... Literally... This means you have to carve out your heart and give it to me... It's that simple-"

"S-S-Simple," howled a panicked Neo-Nazi, standing up in apprehension at the command, "you're insane! We need our heart to live! If we carve it out, we'd be dead in seconds-"

But cut short in his words, the protester too was suddenly incinerated by the redhead caretaker, his cackles growing louder than ever. Gesturing at the pile of dust where he once stood, "wrong! You failed too! You're not supposed to say 'no' to Granny Magda! So then!? Who else thinks this task is fatal? Rest assured, I'll make your choices much easier..."

At this point, it had become painfully clear they were in a death trap. Mortified by the revelation, the remainder could not help but fall into a panic. Raising their guns at the seer, a horrified skinhead yelled at the top of his lungs as he and some of his comrades began spraying their rounds at the seer. But watching as the rounds began to rebound from a magic barrier, the calm seer simply relished the looks of horror on the unworthy's faces as they were erased by her subordinate. As the lad made quick work of the dissenters, another, young girl with sickly purple hair and lifeless crimson eyes stepped forth. Her hand raised to keep the barrier up, she appeared unfazed at the routing taking place.

Shivering in horror as their comrades were being slaughtered, the survivors soon opted to escape, racing for the door hoping they do not get caught in the raving redhead's attack. But inches from the bright light of the door, a shadow soon dropped in to block their escape. A young teenage girl with a ghostly pale appearance and blazing eyes, she sported a similarly pale bodysuit and an enormous, skull-like headdress with tentacles. Seizing several of her unwitting victims with her machine-like limbs, the hapless skinheads were instantly crushed like cans, a sickly crunching sound following suit. Tormented by the sight, the whittled resistance tried to open fire at her. But as the ghostly girl raised her staff, their rounds rebounded as well. It was then the gleeful lad stepped in to finish the job, raising his hand as he proceeded to disintergrate the rest of the Neo-Nazis at point blank.

"You should have tried carving out your heart, dummy," he quipped, grasping the head of one final Neo-Nazi, "at least you could have given yourself a few more seconds."

With that, the petrified skinhead was incinerated with the rest, leaving no trace of the proud Neo-Nazi group that tried to solicit their attention earlier. Glancing down at the mortified girl in her binds, the redhead lad could not help but grin. Grasping at the weeping girl's head, he mused, "my, my... whatever shall we do with you?... Can't expect to leave witnesses, can we? Then again, you're too cute to waste. What's your word, Granny? Can I have my fun with her?"

"Don't be silly, Baldr," the masked seer answered, getting off her seat, "she's has far too much potential to waste... Níðhöggr," she commanded the ghost-like girl, "handle her... I want to hear her speak."

Stepping in as the disgruntled Baldr stepped away, the pale girl swiftly ripped off the tap gagging the prisoner's mouth in pure silence. Frightened and confused, the tearful girl whispered, "what do you want with me?... I don't understand... I don't want to die..."

Approaching the whimpering girl as Níðhöggr settled her upright, the seer made a solemn kneel, pulling back her hood as she pried aside her mask. An aged, elderly woman with ash grey hair, the seer made a gentle smile as she explained, "relax... I am not here to take your life... The only lives I will claim are those who defile the name of the Asgardians and deny those of different birth the right to serve them."

"She means she's not racist," Baldr translated in jest, "she doesn't think that a black or Paki Norse pagan is strange. You don't see that very often."

"In any case," she mused, "I sense much power in you, and I hope you could me a demonstration. Rest assured, I will not harm you if you refuse, and will send you home regardless. Níðhöggr, release her."

Looking a bit bewildered as the ghost-girl untied her, the fearful child had the urge to flee this very instant. However, a mix of fear and warmth kept her back as she continued to gaze into Magda's eyes. There was something about her she did not understand. But she felt a strange compulsion to follow, unsure if she was being cajoled out of fear or trust of the seer. Summoning her familiar, a pair of white rabbit ears and a cotton tail appeared on her. As magic coursed through her body, a bright antennae-like spell began to form over her head. Eventually, it took the form of a dharma wheel, quite clearly a reason for the Neo-Nazis' targeting of her. After a few seconds, the girl's antennae vanished, breathing a gasp as she felt a bit drained.

"What do you think, Mother," the solemn, purple-haired girl questioned, "does her talents please you?"

Smiling a bit, Magda merely said, "yes... Yes, she does, Sjöfn... And a pity, really... I've seen many witches in my day, all of whom wanted my head... I have tried to bring them to the fold, but they've proven a lot more resistant to the truth than I wished..."

"Well, this isn't Alfheim, or whatever you call your world, Granny," Baldr interjected in jest, "I'm sure you'll get along better with Ann's witches."

Glaring over the frightened witch, Magda did not seem all that assured. After all, witches seem to have a natural aversion to her. But beyond their religious affiliation, she could not explain why. Nonetheless, she hoped to change that perception soon, if she could help it.

"I do hope so," she muttered, reaching her palm in front of the witch, "Ann seemed to be adverse to me too." To her surprise, the witch could feel her mind empty almost instantly, blacking out at Magda's quick spell as she slumped over. Hauling her up, Níðhöggr quietly brought her out, as Sjöfn followed behind. As Baldr stepped out to erase any remaining evidence, Magda could not help but keep silent. It had been too long since she left, and she was growing weary... weary of the silence her gods had given to her.

"I am tired, Bright Goddess," Magda whispered to herself, "what purpose do I have left, when my voice cannot reach any man beyond your realm..."

Wilhelmina saluted the guard, before the other two military transport planes landed.

"I hope it's alright, we have several more planes awaiting confirmation to land." she said, while Lupa hopped past her, and Geraldine was kissing the ground. As if on que, about thirty fighter jets landed.

Soldiers exited the carriers, and pilots their aircrafts. The soldiers wore Storm Wolf insignia, the elite paramilitary of the Fatherland, while the pilots wore Silver Wolf insignia, the airforce.

"Uncle Hermann!" Wilhelmina cried, rushing over and hugging the Storm Wolf Brigadier General Herman Wolff in an open display of affection. The soldiers did not pay any attention to either of them, simply marching to position.

Lupa hopped next to the Baltlander officer. "Excuse me, but do you know where the lady's room is?" while Geraldine was wiping the granite smudge off her lips embarassingly. The Storm Wolf Witches were anarchic.

"Oh, the restroom," the lad uttered, trying to ignore Wilhelmina's show, "the nearest one is over at the canteen, but I'm not allowed to let visitors wander off on their own. I'll try to call someone to accompany you, ehm..."

Noticing Christina's little group sitting by the side, the man hurriedly rushed over and asked, "excuse me, Your Highness, girls, but would you happen to have some time. One of the visitors requested to visit the restroom. I need one of you to escort her there."

Blinking a bit, the trio blinked a bit at the address. Exchanging gazes, Christina spoke, "I don't know... My sister did ask us to wait here."

"It'll only be for a moment," the officer explained, "if Her Highness, you can just tell her I gave the order. She'll understand."

"Oh," mused the princess, "umm... I guess... 'Doge'?"

"I can take her there, no problem," Olivia replied with a smile, getting off her seat, "I'll be back soon."

Meeting up with Lupa, the blonde with the beauty mark addressed, "greetings. Sorry for the trouble. The toilet's this way, please follow me."

[The Grey Wolf]

Wilhelmina saluted the guard, before the other two military transport planes landed.

"I hope it's alright, we have several more planes awaiting confirmation to land." she said, while Lupa hopped past her, and Geraldine was kissing the ground. As if on que, about thirty fighter jets landed.

Soldiers exited the carriers, and pilots their aircrafts. The soldiers wore Storm Wolf insignia, the elite paramilitary of the Fatherland, while the pilots wore Silver Wolf insignia, the airforce.

"Uncle Hermann!" Wilhelmina cried, rushing over and hugging the Storm Wolf Brigadier General Herman Wolff in an open display of affection. The soldiers did not pay any attention to either of them, simply marching to position.

Lupa hopped next to the Baltlander officer. "Excuse me, but do you know where the lady's room is?" while Geraldine was wiping the granite smudge off her lips embarassingly. The Storm Wolf Witches were anarchic.

"Oh, the restroom," the lad uttered, trying to ignore Wilhelmina's show, "the nearest one is over at the canteen, but I'm not allowed to let visitors wander off on their own. I'll try to call someone to accompany you, ehm..."

Noticing Christina's little group sitting by the side, the man hurriedly rushed over and asked, "excuse me, Your Highness, girls, but would you happen to have some time. One of the visitors requested to visit the restroom. I need one of you to escort her there."

Blinking a bit, the trio blinked a bit at the address. Exchanging gazes, Christina spoke, "I don't know... My sister did ask us to wait here."

"It'll only be for a moment," the officer explained, "if Her Highness, you can just tell her I gave the order. She'll understand."

"Oh," mused the princess, "umm... I guess... 'Doge'?"

"I can take her there, no problem," Olivia replied with a smile, getting off her seat, "I'll be back soon."

Meeting up with Lupa, the blonde with the beauty mark addressed, "greetings. Sorry for the trouble. The toilet's this way, please follow me."

"Thenk ye, mah quine," Lupa replied, speaking in the Scots language. She did a cute bow, a grin on her face. A small group of soldiers passed her, but Lupa paid them no mind.

Hermann hugged his niece. He was a tall man, with dark hair and grey eyes, almost boyish. But his eyes just gave the hint of smugness, and there was something that just made you detest him. "Whoah there youngin'." he said, grinning. Their embrace continued for a few more minutes, until Wilhelmina let go. He kissed her on the forehead, which could be interpreted romantically.

"Hey Gerry, help me unlatch the cargo hold door." Ilse called out, trying to pull open the door. Geraldine sighed and helped, sending the door crashing down on the both of them. It hit Ilse on the head, causing her to start tearing up. Geraldine simply sighed once more and pulled out the luggage.

[Rupudska]

5 km south of Bergen
10,000 metres above sea level

A stifled yawn and the sipping of a paper cup announced the arrival of the Karlsland Luftwaffe to Bergen's airspace.

The stifled yawn belonged to Leutnant Dorete Stenger, at 13 the youngest Witch of Karlsland's Jagdgeschwader 135[h] squadron, Wodu. The sipping, from Oberleutnant Augustine Chevrolet, who was drinking a sludgy, disgusting mixture of espresso, Red Bull, and oatmeal. Most of the squadron had already finished their cups of it, but Dorete, who was new to pulling all-nighters, had declined the offer of one. She probably thought they were just hazing her. [They were, but it worked, so they weren't.]

Behind them was a C-5 Galaxy, bearing the insignia of both the Luftwaffe and the legendary 501st Strategic Fighter Wing, the Strike Witches themselves, pride of the Karlsland military. Within was the squadron itself, both their sets of Strikers, as well as a few trucks, support staff, and guards.

Leading the flight, as she was technically the highest-ranked officer there, was the Princess of Karlsland herself, commanding officer of Jagdgeschwader 135[h].

"Militärflugplatz Bergen, das ist Prinzesin Hanna Albrecht von Bayern, befehlshabender Offizier von Jagdgeschwader 135[h] und der Strategisch Jagdgeschwader 501. Wir anfordern Landefreigabe."

[Wolfenium]

5 km south of Bergen
10,000 metres above sea level

A stifled yawn and the sipping of a paper cup announced the arrival of the Karlsland Luftwaffe to Bergen's airspace.

The stifled yawn belonged to Leutnant Dorete Stenger, at 13 the youngest Witch of Karlsland's Jagdgeschwader 135[h] squadron, Wodu. The sipping, from Oberleutnant Augustine Chevrolet, who was drinking a sludgy, disgusting mixture of espresso, Red Bull, and oatmeal. Most of the squadron had already finished their cups of it, but Dorete, who was new to pulling all-nighters, had declined the offer of one. She probably thought they were just hazing her. [They were, but it worked, so they weren't.]

Behind them was a C-5 Galaxy, bearing the insignia of both the Luftwaffe and the legendary 501st Strategic Fighter Wing, the Strike Witches themselves, pride of the Karlsland military. Within was the squadron itself, both their sets of Strikers, as well as a few trucks, support staff, and guards.

Leading the flight, as she was technically the highest-ranked officer there, was the Princess of Karlsland herself, commanding officer of Jagdgeschwader 135[h].

"Militärflugplatz Bergen, das ist Prinzesin Hanna Albrecht von Bayern, befehlshabender Offizier von Jagdgeschwader 135[h] und der Strategisch Jagdgeschwader 501. Wir anfordern Landefreigabe."

Sitting over at the control tower, a small staff of radio operators were currently busy coordinating the landing. One of them, picking up the signal from Hanna, had reason to frown as he heard her message. Adept linguist or not, swapping between languages had always been irritating to him. With the standard of instruction being English, he had expected the pilots to do the same. He could excuse any fighters for lacking any decent knowledge in the 'universal language', sure. But that did not mean he was willing to condone it.

"Acknowledged, Your Highness," he informed Hanna, "you are cleared to land. Just be sure to stick to English on your stay in Bergen. Not everyone can speak German here."

And by 'not everyone', it practically meant most of the host population and a few of the visiting squadrons. It did not matter to him that a large majority of the visitors were Germanic. Baltlanders had rules too, and he was not going to have any of them make an exception to that.

---

-snip-

Sitting by the helipad, a stoic young man in a black jacket over his uniform quietly read his book as the planes landed near him. Giving a slight glance, he quietly turned his dull eyes back to his novel, waiting for the girls to step out. With a head of dark hair and sharp eyes, he looked as far from a Norseman as he possibly could. In fact, among the sea of Teutons, his oriental appearance stood out like a sore thumb. Then again, no one said that immigration was impossible in Baltland, and it was likely he or his family came from the Far East. It would not be surprising if he was. Granted he did appear to have been tasked as a guide for one of the only Oriental squadrons attending White Skies.

---

-snip-

"Major Hertling, I presume?"

Standing by the side as he awaited the end of the girls' debrief, a cold-looking young man in Baltlandic uniform was quick to address the Major directly. Seemingly teenage, the lad sported a pair of dull, grey eyes and a head of similarly greying hair. Giving a quick salute, his eyes shifted slightly at Klaudia's subordinates for a moment. Turning back to Klaudia, he addressed in a stern tone, "my name is 1st Lieutenant Gaius Rugius, Baltlandic Military Police. I'm here under orders by His Excellency, Duke Wilhelm Vasa to act as your guide for the duration of this exercise. I don't believe all of you have assembled as of current."

[Minroz]

Meanwhile in the background, the VTOL-Antonovs landed and begun unloading its cargo including the Zodiac witches’ Striker Packs units. As for the Zodiac Squadron - a motley group of mages and witches, they’re also getting out. However…

“Hey! Don’t shove!” Tailang moans. He got stuck at the entrance with Yumei, Fangzi and the Feng twins. They’re the first to rush out and ended up getting stuck in the entrance. It’s like being packed in the sardines’ tin, but to say that it’s an understatement.

“It wasn’t me!” Yumei said in annoyance.

“Me too!” Ming-er grunts.

“Hujang! Apghi! Nyirodhul! Anggrin! Bumya! Help us!” Minlan whines, begging to the gods.

“Oi! Oi! Don’t push around, I can’t move while you guys are stuck!” Fangzi yells.

“Says who!?” Yumei retort.

“Cut it out, you guys!” Manyi scolded them from behind. “Get it out one by one for Nyirodhul’s sake! On the count of three…one, tw-”

Suddenly, the trapped ones popped out like the cork and made a comical tumble down the stairs. It’s almost like the falling bowling pins rolling downstairs.

Aigiarn laughs in response, but Meiya however made a sigh. Ami shrugged and Xiaoniao chuckled as she walked down with the others to help them out.

“O Allah help me…” Maimur sighed.

“Hey! You okay, girl?” The scarface princess asked. She knelt down and rubbed one of Minlan’s bruise like a caring mother.

“Urgh, tell me about it.” Yumei stand up by herself as she rubbed her bruises.

“We’re fine.” Minlan sniffled.

“Me too.” Ming-er cries. Deki and Manyi bring them up.

“Aiya, next time girls, don’t run out of the transport like that again.” The pinkette advised them.

“She is right. I know you two are young but you should know better.” Manyi chastised.

“We’re sorry.” The Feng twins wilted.

“It’s alright. As long as you knew you’ve done wrong and make up for it, it’s alright.” The blue-haired girl smiled. The twins beamed at her with happy smiles.

“Oi! Don’t worry, big sis. I’m not hurt.” Tailang boast with a cocky smile, letting Lyuba and Maimur helped lifting him to stand. He tried hard not to show his pain in his attempt to show his teammates he’s a tough guy. Ai soon gave a comfort pat to him on his head.

“Can I pet you?” Xiaoniao joked.

“Same here!” Turtara Min joins in.

“C-colonel! P-please!” He whines, the more relaxed girls laughed at his flushed embarrassment. The dog boy is very sensitive about his ears and tails. He’d rather not let anyone touch them but his girlfriend back home.

“Kids…” Lyuba observed, looking amused.

Back to Fangzi, she’s stuck in the heaps of snow. Amira, Mandu and Daya were finished pulling her out.

“Geh! I’ve nearly suffocated back there.” Fangzi complained.

“Well, that’s what happens when you rushed…again?” Amira said with hints of amusement as she puts her hand on her hips.

“Maybe we should give you some Ritalin. It helps calm you down, Xize.” Daya smirks.

“Eeyup.” Mandu nodded in agreement, joins in the joke.

“Aiya! I’m don’t have ADD for gods’ sake! Don’t make fun of me.” Fangzi whinged, showing her displeasure even though she looks cute being mad.

Meiya and Aigiarn watched their subordinates fool around a bit or doing some body stretching. Both noticed the Asian-Baltlander and they begun to approach him. Part of them are curious about his presence especially his racial appearance. They might mistook him as some oriental bystander if it wasn’t for his Baltlander uniform. Now, they’re speaking in English.

“Yo, how’re you been doing, brother? I’m General Jinmao Aigiarn of Minroz, leader of the Zodiac team for White Skies meet.” Ai saluted, introduced herself in her cheerful manner. She then gestured to Meiya.

“This is Colonel Meiya Apalkova, my assistant.” The Eurasian girl made a polite bow and salute.

“Nice to meet you.” Meiya said, speaking with her Russian-accent.

Aigiarn continues and she has some questions for the guide. “Say, where we gonna stay and bunk? And-“

She got interrupted by some of the more hyperactive witches.

“Hey sir! Will there be food!?” Yumei chirps in with excitement.

“Yo! Do they serve caviar, smoked salmon? Better yet, is there gonna be smorgasbord?” Lyuba joins in.

“Give the man a break; you’re going to confused him.” Meiya gripes. Aigiarn chose to laugh it off, being laid-back as always.

Linglai Yue, meanwhile, is sipping her cheese-flavoured juice box. Noticing it, some of the girls are wondering where she gets these weird concoctions of flavours into the juiceboxes from.

[Nachfolgia]

5 km south of Bergen
10,000 metres above sea level

A stifled yawn and the sipping of a paper cup announced the arrival of the Karlsland Luftwaffe to Bergen's airspace.

The stifled yawn belonged to Leutnant Dorete Stenger, at 13 the youngest Witch of Karlsland's Jagdgeschwader 135[h] squadron, Wodu. The sipping, from Oberleutnant Augustine Chevrolet, who was drinking a sludgy, disgusting mixture of espresso, Red Bull, and oatmeal. Most of the squadron had already finished their cups of it, but Dorete, who was new to pulling all-nighters, had declined the offer of one. She probably thought they were just hazing her. [They were, but it worked, so they weren't.]

Behind them was a C-5 Galaxy, bearing the insignia of both the Luftwaffe and the legendary 501st Strategic Fighter Wing, the Strike Witches themselves, pride of the Karlsland military. Within was the squadron itself, both their sets of Strikers, as well as a few trucks, support staff, and guards.

Leading the flight, as she was technically the highest-ranked officer there, was the Princess of Karlsland herself, commanding officer of Jagdgeschwader 135[h].

"Militärflugplatz Bergen, das ist Prinzesin Hanna Albrecht von Bayern, befehlshabender Offizier von Jagdgeschwader 135[h] und der Strategisch Jagdgeschwader 501. Wir anfordern Landefreigabe."

Sitting over at the control tower, a small staff of radio operators were currently busy coordinating the landing. One of them, picking up the signal from Hanna, had reason to frown as he heard her message. Adept linguist or not, swapping between languages had always been irritating to him. With the standard of instruction being English, he had expected the pilots to do the same. He could excuse any fighters for lacking any decent knowledge in the 'universal language', sure. But that did not mean he was willing to condone it.

"Acknowledged, Your Highness," he informed Hanna, "you are cleared to land. Just be sure to stick to English on your stay in Bergen. Not everyone can speak German here."

And by 'not everyone', it practically meant most of the host population and a few of the visiting squadrons. It did not matter to him that a large majority of the visitors were Germanic. Baltlanders had rules too, and he was not going to have any of them make an exception to that.

---

-snip-

Sitting by the helipad, a stoic young man in a black jacket over his uniform quietly read his book as the planes landed near him. Giving a slight glance, he quietly turned his dull eyes back to his novel, waiting for the girls to step out. With a head of dark hair and sharp eyes, he looked as far from a Norseman as he possibly could. In fact, among the sea of Teutons, his oriental appearance stood out like a sore thumb. Then again, no one said that immigration was impossible in Baltland, and it was likely he or his family came from the Far East. It would not be surprising if he was. Granted he did appear to have been tasked as a guide for one of the only Oriental squadrons attending White Skies.

---

-snip-

"Major Hertling, I presume?"

Standing by the side as he awaited the end of the girls' debrief, a cold-looking young man in Baltlandic uniform was quick to address the Major directly. Seemingly teenage, the lad sported a pair of dull, grey eyes and a head of similarly greying hair. Giving a quick salute, his eyes shifted slightly at Klaudia's subordinates for a moment. Turning back to Klaudia, he addressed in a stern tone, "my name is 1st Lieutenant Gaius Rugius, Baltlandic Military Police. I'm here under orders by His Excellency, Duke Wilhelm Vasa to act as your guide for the duration of this exercise. I don't believe all of you have assembled as of current."

Klaudia stared coldly at the Baltlander as he addressed himself. She wasn't sure what to think of the young lieutenant, to her he look like a teenage, barely old enough to be a conscript. She wondered why the Baltlanders let such young kids become officers, they probably had no combat experience. Definitely no on par with the Nachfolgian Wehrmacht. " We don't need a guide." Klaudia said coldly as she turned to walk away.

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

However, sliding in Klaudia's way, Gaius insisted, "I beg to differ. For the duration of the White Skies Meet, all visiting delegations are to be designated a guide in which to facilitate the use of military and civilian services in Baltland. We do not wish to see any diplomatically compromising incidents occur between the units, so please bear with my presence. I promise I will not intrude on your privacy."

He sounded serious enough to be sincere, though his tone sounded too monotonous to contain any feeling at all. Still, he was a soldier, and theoretically, he should be following the directives of his superiors. Problem was, what other orders were he following?

---

-snip-

Giving a silent glare, the man merely stood up as he closed his book, ignoring the noise in front of him. Closing the book, he stated in a bland tone, "bunk's over by the side. I'm supposed to take you there. In terms of food... you'll have to live with herring."

Lacking the usual discipline of an officer, the lax young man never bother to introduce himself or salute a superior. Sure, this was Aigiarn he was dealing with, but that did not give him the excuse to show any attitude issues to her. All in all, a seemingly poor choice for a guide, but given his appearance, he did appear to serve a real purpose.

[The Grey Wolf]

Klaudia stared coldly at the Baltlander as he addressed himself. She wasn't sure what to think of the young lieutenant, to her he look like a teenage, barely old enough to be a conscript. She wondered why the Baltlanders let such young kids become officers, they probably had no combat experience. Definitely no on par with the Nachfolgian Wehrmacht. " We don't need a guide." Klaudia said coldly as she turned to walk away.

However, sliding in Klaudia's way, Gaius insisted, "I beg to differ. For the duration of the White Skies Meet, all visiting delegations are to be designated a guide in which to facilitate the use of military and civilian services in Baltland. We do not wish to see any diplomatically compromising incidents occur between the units, so please bear with my presence. I promise I will not intrude on your privacy."

He sounded serious enough to be sincere, though his tone sounded too monotonous to contain any feeling at all. Still, he was a soldier, and theoretically, he should be following the directives of his superiors. Problem was, what other orders were he following?

Wilhelmina gave her uncle one last hug, before walking over to the Baltlander guard. She saluted him in the Roman fashion. Her uncle followed her example. "Sir," Wilhelmina told him. "We at the Storm Wolf are happy to help in any way possible. Our soldiers and pilots know to obey the laws of your country, and to follow them. General Hermann Wolff and myself will answer any questions you may have."

[Minroz]

Giving a silent glare, the man merely stood up as he closed his book, ignoring the noise in front of him. Closing the book, he stated in a bland tone, "bunk's over by the side. I'm supposed to take you there. In terms of food... you'll have to live with herring."

Yumei and Lyuba looked on in disbelief at his answer. The look on their faces is quite comical to say the least.

“Herring…?” They finally blurted it out. It’s as if they’ve swallowed something bad.

“Is that it, only herring? Please you can’t be joking, right?” The white Minrozian asked, looking apprehensively.

“I’m afraid what all he said is true, shangwei.” Meiya stated as she patted on Lyuba’s shoulder. Upon hearing it the duo slumped down, beginning to feel the misery eating them from insides. The more sympathetic members of the Zodiacs felt sorry for them.

“Well, I don’t expect them to serve us smorgasbord anyway.” Ami remarked.

“You can say that again.” Daya agreed as she crossed her arms.

“H-herrings~” The Feng twins yelped in surprise.

“Gods! I’d rather eat food pills.” Fangzi cringed, looking disgusted by the thought of eating herrings.

“Bear with it. We’re soldiers, we don’t have luxury of being picky on grubs meaning we eat any food to survive. Our ancestors even ate horses to survive.” Xiaoniao advised her.

“Glad I wasn’t born in that age.” Tailang remarked.

“If that's the case, how about we feed some herring to you?” Min teased the dog boy.

“I’m a dog, not a cat!” He protested.

The Minrozians are now in idle, chattering mood. With Meiya looking after them, the scarred princess turned her attention back to the guide.

“Hehe~” She scratched her head sheepishly.

"I’d apologise for their rowdiness, they can be quite very enthusiastic, most of the time. Don’t worry, me and Apalkova will handle them for the duration of our stay in Baltland. It's like a piece of cake. Anyway, lead the way, friend!” Aigiarn chirps, pumping her fist in the air. “Oh, and by the way, what is your name? Surely I can’t call you ‘guy’ or ‘hey you’ all the time; it’ll be quite rude of me. Besides, me and Meiya offered our names first.”

[Nachfolgia]

-snip-

However, sliding in Klaudia's way, Gaius insisted, "I beg to differ. For the duration of the White Skies Meet, all visiting delegations are to be designated a guide in which to facilitate the use of military and civilian services in Baltland. We do not wish to see any diplomatically compromising incidents occur between the units, so please bear with my presence. I promise I will not intrude on your privacy."

He sounded serious enough to be sincere, though his tone sounded too monotonous to contain any feeling at all. Still, he was a soldier, and theoretically, he should be following the directives of his superiors. Problem was, what other orders were he following?

---

-snip-

Giving a silent glare, the man merely stood up as he closed his book, ignoring the noise in front of him. Closing the book, he stated in a bland tone, "bunk's over by the side. I'm supposed to take you there. In terms of food... you'll have to live with herring."

Lacking the usual discipline of an officer, the lax young man never bother to introduce himself or salute a superior. Sure, this was Aigiarn he was dealing with, but that did not give him the excuse to show any attitude issues to her. All in all, a seemingly poor choice for a guide, but given his appearance, he did appear to serve a real purpose.

Klaudia gave a scowl as the young officer stood in front of her. It annoyed and angered her that the lieutenant was being straight forward and persistent with a superior officer. If he were one of her men, Klaudia would have punched him in the face, but he wasn't and she couldn't. She couldn't help but wonder if the young man has ever seen a Nachfolgian, If not, he was in for a real treat especially when the Luftwaffe pilots get here. If he though Klaudia was bad, wait until he sees the men of the best fighter wing in the Reich.

" Lieutenant Rugius, was it? Have you ever seen a Nachfolgian before or face one in battle? What rumors have you heard, unterlegen?" Klaudia said with a serious tone as she looked in his eyes.

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

Silent and unfazed, the lad grunted, "Cheng Ng, or Zheng Wu in standard Mandarin. Zheng in Zheng He; Wu in Wu Sangui. Let's go."

And just like that, he ended the conversation, pacing towards the bunks as he led them through the base. In one word, Zheng was an unsociable character, and rather bland. It seemed like the only interest he took part in was reading, not a single care for the world around him. It was a hideous monochromatic contrast to the colourful cast he had to entertain.

"Pardon us if your quarters is too cluttered," he introduced them to their living quarters, a rather quaint and comfortable bunk with beds, curtains and cabinets, "I personally think there's too much stuff here."

---

-snip-

Bowing his head a bit, the lad stated coldly, "I admit. I have never come face to face with a member of your tribe before. From what information I could gather, the Nachfolgians are a warlike, savage Germanic people, prideful of their traditions of violence and as barbaric as the gods you call upon. You could surmise that I have a similar opinion for every person in this military exercise, though yours takes special mention for your non-compliance with the Jerusalemite Sand God."

Gaius, on his part, had an archaic, offensive speech in his tongue. He did not seem condescending, but his stern face quite confirmed his disparaging attitude towards Klaudia's 'tribe'. All in all, he was a very odd person. If one looked more carefully, one might have assumed that he travelled two millenia ahead of time from the rule of Rome.

-snip-

However, giving a small glance at Wilhelmina, Gaius mused in a slightly more colourful tone, "oh. A citizen, are you? I apologize, Tribune, but I am not your assigned guide. I advise that you return to your designated observer. He must be quite worried about your disappearance right now."

Running towards the group, Iver appeared quite exasperated at searching for Wilhelmina. He did not expect to be doing any corralling of his wards, but for whatever reason, Wilhelmina decided to speak with Rugius. Not that that was forbidden, but he was tasked to keep the group together. Wandering off was not in the itinerary, and he was keen not to get reprimanded.

[Rupudska]

Sitting over at the control tower, a small staff of radio operators were currently busy coordinating the landing. One of them, picking up the signal from Hanna, had reason to frown as he heard her message. Adept linguist or not, swapping between languages had always been irritating to him. With the standard of instruction being English, he had expected the pilots to do the same. He could excuse any fighters for lacking any decent knowledge in the 'universal language', sure. But that did not mean he was willing to condone it.

"Acknowledged, Your Highness," he informed Hanna, "you are cleared to land. Just be sure to stick to English on your stay in Bergen. Not everyone can speak German here."

And by 'not everyone', it practically meant most of the host population and a few of the visiting squadrons. It did not matter to him that a large majority of the visitors were Germanic. Baltlanders had rules too, and he was not going to have any of them make an exception to that.

"Understood. Though do keep in mind, at least in my squadron, that not all of the Witches speak English as well as I."

She and the rest of Jagdgeschwager 135[h] broke off from the C-5 as it came in for a landing, rolling to a stop near the Nachfolgian C-160s. The 135[h] landed shortly afterwards, stopping close to the aircraft to give the grounds crew now pouring out of its tail an easier job.

And then they came out. The 501st Strategic Fighter Wing, the Strike Witches, now made up of only the most powerful Witches from across the whole of the Empire. Leading them were the most powerful of all: Major Heinrike Prinzessin zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, the squadron's executive officer and night Witch, and Oberleutnant Erica Hartmann, the legendary Black Devil and highest scoring Witch Ace of all time. The two were collectively referred to as the 'Elder Gods' in media, partly due to their age, partly due to the fact that, as yokai, they wielded significantly more magical power than any human Witch could ever obtain, barring the royal line.

The other Major, a Melanesian colonial by the name of Kriemhild Fleishcer, walked up to the two and lit a cigarette.

["So, here we are. Bergen, on the North Sea."]

Erica nodded, watching Nina Marseille carry the enormous GAU-8 Avenger she used as both a firearm and a bludgeoning tool towards the storage building. The drum - which was as big as Marseille herself - seemed light as a feather to the girl. Good thing, too - she was the only Witch in the squadron with the ability Superstrength, and was thus the only one who could even lift the damn thing.

[The Grey Wolf]

-snip-

Silent and unfazed, the lad grunted, "Cheng Ng, or Zheng Wu in standard Mandarin. Zheng in Zheng He; Wu in Wu Sangui. Let's go."

And just like that, he ended the conversation, pacing towards the bunks as he led them through the base. In one word, Zheng was an unsociable character, and rather bland. It seemed like the only interest he took part in was reading, not a single care for the world around him. It was a hideous monochromatic contrast to the colourful cast he had to entertain.

"Pardon us if your quarters is too cluttered," he introduced them to their living quarters, a rather quaint and comfortable bunk with beds, curtains and cabinets, "I personally think there's too much stuff here."

---

-snip-

Bowing his head a bit, the lad stated coldly, "I admit. I have never come face to face with a member of your tribe before. From what information I could gather, the Nachfolgians are a warlike, savage Germanic people, prideful of their traditions of violence and as barbaric as the gods you call upon. You could surmise that I have a similar opinion for every person in this military exercise, though yours takes special mention for your non-compliance with the Jerusalemite Sand God."

Gaius, on his part, had an archaic, offensive speech in his tongue. He did not seem condescending, but his stern face quite confirmed his disparaging attitude towards Klaudia's 'tribe'. All in all, he was a very odd person. If one looked more carefully, one might have assumed that he travelled two millenia ahead of time from the rule of Rome.

-snip-

However, giving a small glance at Wilhelmina, Gaius mused in a slightly more colourful tone, "oh. A citizen, are you? I apologize, Tribune, but I am not your assigned guide. I advise that you return to your designated observer. He must be quite worried about your disappearance right now."

Running towards the group, Iver appeared quite exasperated at searching for Wilhelmina. He did not expect to be doing any corralling of his wards, but for whatever reason, Wilhelmina decided to speak with Rugius. Not that that was forbidden, but he was tasked to keep the group together. Wandering off was not in the itinerary, and he was keen not to get reprimanded.

Wilhelmina grabbed the medal on her chest. "Don't take that tone with me, I am the Lt. Colonel of the Storm Wolf Witches." she said angrily. Rowena walked up to her and whispered a few words. Wilhelmina cursed, and stalked off to Iver. "Hello, sir."

Lupa was busy jumping up and down like a monkey high on methamphetamine. The pale girl seemed to have more energy than she knew what to do with.

"Someone get her Unit," Gerry whispered to one of the other Storm Wolf.

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

Panting, Iver advised, "please, don't run off like that, Madam. It's hard to keep track if you all run off like that. Anyway, I'm sure you're eager to unpack at your new quarters. Shall I lead the way, or do you have somewhere else in mind?"

-snip-

Facing across the tarmac facing the Karlslanders, a brunette witch with a small beauty marched forward at attention as her team of witches lined up by the side with their rifles at salute. Exchanging a few glances, the juniors of 132 Luftving felt that it was too much. But Lieutenant Colonel Paula Iversen, the taskmaster of the Norwegian flight wing, was a very by-the-book person. And she was not about to stand any lax discipline from anyone. Not even Carla.

"Greetings, Your Highness," she suddenly spoke, appearing behind Hanna with a salute, "my name is-"

"ヤホー!"

However, cutting short Paula's introduction was Carla, jumping on Hanna as she caught her in a tight hug. Pressing her body against the princess, she chimed in a playful voice, "still as hardheaded as before? You haven't changed... You need to loosen up a bit. I'm sure I can help you with that~!"

"P-Princess," barked Paula in shock, her face turning rosy, "what are you doing!? This is an open space! Show some restraint here!"

[The Grey Wolf]

-snip-

Panting, Iver advised, "please, don't run off like that, Madam. It's hard to keep track if you all run off like that. Anyway, I'm sure you're eager to unpack at your new quarters. Shall I lead the way, or do you have somewhere else in mind?"

"Well, as you can see, we'll probably need extra accomadation." Wilhelmina gestured to all the Storm Wolf soldiers and Silver Wolf pilots. Hermann had gone back to the plane to make sure the luggage was safely stored, before returning to Iver and Wilhelmina.

"So, this is the unfortunate bastard who has to look after us." Hermann laughed, although it wasn't warm or friendly. Almost mocking. "My men will require bedding. Possibly a bunker?"

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

Flesland Air Station, Bergenhus, United Kingdom of Baltland - Queen's Colour Squadron, Royal Hungarian Home Air Defence Guards Fighter Regiment „Freiin Tóth von Nagyág (Pumák)“ Nr. 81

A ten ship formation of five Atlas C.Mk.1's, an EADS Voyager KC.Mk.3 and Caballero F.Mk.2's streaked across the cold, murky skies of Scandinavia this December morning at near sonic speeds, the Atlases and Caballeros bearing the insignia of a Puma Rampant displayed Sable, embossed on the Lesser Arms of the Kingdom of Hungary and crowned by the Holy Crown of Saint Stephen. Inside the first Atlas medium transports sat twelve Witches of the regiment's Queen's Colour Squadron, the custodian of the „Freiin Tóth“-Regiment's Queen's Colour. The Voyager Multirole Tanker Transport held the rest of the regiment's sixty-four Witches and the Stabsmusikkorps. Outside was their Silver Group component, four sleek Gemballa Avionics Caballero F.Mk.2's, three external fuel tanks, and a small complement of MBDA Iris's attached to the fuselage and wings. Ahead of them by two days, via another flight of EADS Voyager KC.Mk.3 was Regimental Adjutant Oberleutnant Maria Ludovica,and the other three squadrons.

Maria had been using the past two days to prepare for arrival, including the task of informing the Baltlanders that per Imperial and Royal Protocol for the Armed Forces each state level visit was to be accompanied by inspections of the Honour Formation in Slow and Quick Time. On the morning of the arrival day, she was found darting from her room half-dressed in full dress uniform and storming through the crowds to the runway and reception area. Command had called in early this morning and informed her that the delegation would be arriving in a few hours time, and that time was just about now.

At the same time Maria rushed through the Air Station, Pumák Gold 1-1, Oberst Dézsi Szentgyörgy patched through to Flesland Air Control, informing them in crisp British accented English that: "Pumák Gold 1-1 reporting in. Pumák Gold 1-1, Pumák Silver 2-1 to 2-4 and Pumák 3-1 twenty miles and ten minutes out. Request permission to land, please."
By happy coincidence Oberleutnant Maria Ludovica arrived at the designated parking area for them as the Voyager KC.Mk.3 and Atlas C.Mk.1 taxied into position, shut its engines off and opened the doors. Snapping to attention and saluting with the three squadrons already standing in squadron front she watched as first Stabsmusikkorps der k.u.k. Luftwaffe descended the stairs with their instrument bags. Then as the band formed up, the regiment lead by Oberst Dézsi Szentgyörgy stepped off from the planes and assembled below to the tunes of Der Königgrätzer. Once they all had lined up with the other three squadrons and the band present, they stood and waited for the Baltlander Commanding Officer for the Report and Inspection.

[Wolfenium]

Panting, Iver advised, "please, don't run off like that, Madam. It's hard to keep track if you all run off like that. Anyway, I'm sure you're eager to unpack at your new quarters. Shall I lead the way, or do you have somewhere else in mind?"

"Well, as you can see, we'll probably need extra accomadation." Wilhelmina gestured to all the Storm Wolf soldiers and Silver Wolf pilots. Hermann had gone back to the plane to make sure the luggage was safely stored, before returning to Iver and Wilhelmina.

"So, this is the unfortunate bastard who has to look after us." Hermann laughed, although it wasn't warm or friendly. Almost mocking. "My men will require bedding. Possibly a bunker?"

"Yes, we got that covered, Sir," the lad answered in a light groan, "but we're not using bunkers. Not at peacetime. Some people might find it too gloomy for their taste. I suppose you'd beg to differ?"

Already, he was starting to dislike his job. He had expected his wards to be at least a little more cordial with him. Then again, he had heard that a large section of the visiting delegations would be Teuton fanatics, and it appeared he got the short end of the stick. But he felt that his day could not be any worse than Rugius, despite the vast difference in steel nerves He dared not fathom how he could be proven wrong.

[Minroz]

"Pardon us if your quarters is too cluttered," he introduced them to their living quarters, a rather quaint and comfortable bunk with beds, curtains and cabinets, "I personally think there's too much stuff here."

“Nah, it’s alright.” Aigiarn observed. “It suits us just fine.”

“In any case, thank you, Zheng Wu.” Meiya smiled. The Zodiac members soon dropped their luggage in one corner until they sorted out to their own bunks. Yumei and Lyuba however were still in their depressed mode. Maimur and Manyi tried to cheer them up with assurance that they’ll get the smorgasbord they want.

“Well, it’s not shabby.” Xiaoniao adds in. “Then again, we’ve had worse.”

“It’s not like we’re going to mansions, that’s for sure.” Mandu quipped.

“But it’ll be nice to live in one, just for this once.” Fangzi spoke.

“Ummm, living in the mansions is not everything, you know. I happened to have one.” Deki stated her thoughts. Purely, she’s a rich girl as a daughter of a very wealthy businessman.

“Yeah, I know some of you guys are rich folks. Why do yer need big houses for anyway?” Tailang said as he opens his luggage to check the contents.

“Goodness gracious, I’m not sure I can stand living in the shack.” Ami said in the mocked dramatic manner.

“Remember Khaydaristan, Al-umukumuk.” Min pipes in. “We three, Lyuba, Fangzi and Amira had to sleep in the dusty ol’ caves for few nights. No food but water. But we had some interesting adventures, stranded, without our striker packs.”

“Heh. Good times.” Daya smirked, rolling her eyes.

“I remember.” Amira grunts, recoiled at the memory. “It’s not my favourite camping trip. Thank Gods, we got over it.”

“Urgh, the water gave me some stomachaches.” Fangzi groans.

“Hahaha! Cheered up you two, we’re still alive.” Min laughs in good-natured manner.

The Feng twins were playing rock, paper and scissors to decide which bunks they should sleep in.

“Oh yeah, Mr Zheng Wu, where do we go for the bathroom stuff? Y’know brushing your teeth, showers, baths and toilet~” Aigiarn asked the quiet guide. “Moreover, are we allowed to use training grounds and the shooting range? I wanted to get my subordinates into a good shape. Otherwise, they’ll get bored rather easily.”

“Anyway, we’re still waiting for the others to arrive. Namely the Wolf team, Colonel Gangalyn, Colonel Akaba and Major Yuan.” Meiya reminded Ai before turning to the Asian-Baltlander guide. “We have few people coming in. Can you let your superiors know about it?”

---

Meanwhile…

Another Minrozian portal opens up, letting out another VTOL-plane. This one is too heading for Baltland, just like the others who landed at Bergen. But this time, it’s carrying a single VIP passenger - a member of the Dragon team of the Zodiac Squadron.

She is Colonel Gangalyn Gunay. A Menggurian noble, though talented, she’s one of the most infamous commanders in the Minrozian military, known for her playful yet refined personality and Machiavellian ruthlessness. Thus earning her the nickname as the ‘Blood Raven’ because of her animal familiar and her personal relish in combat. Then again, Gunay came from the ancient line of battle-hungry warriors since the Yuan Dynasty period. Now, her family are one of the most influential clans in the Kurultai and they owned Mudan.

Not to mention, Gunay supported war against Xoraine and Omaska along with her older brother, Tekuder, who happens to be the Grand Admiral who commanded the Western Airfleet. Both of them are students of Naran, Ai’s uncle who is one of the most notorious figures in the Minrozian politics. If it wasn’t for their competence and their loyalty, the government will immediately dismiss them already. To the certain circles of the Kuomintang leadership, they made a disparaging nickname about her as ‘That bloody raven from Mudan’.

Sipping her rice wine like a Victorian aristocrat, Gunay muses on the scenery of Baltland.

“White snow and grey skies. I wonder what colour will it be, right after the next few days?” She remarked.

Gunay’s mouth curled up into the sinister smile. If anyone heard her comment, they cannot tell whether she’s making a dark joke or not.

Her plane soon landed on its airstrip, this time its airplane style.