The War to End All Wars (3)

This was not the Freugne who had resolved to confront the Demonic Tribe after retreating.

Encountering such obstacles was only natural, was it not?

To crumble at this juncture – how could she persevere through the war? Therefore, as she had initially determined, she would calmly… overcome this……

Or so she should.

“Is this truly accurate?”

Freugne was well aware of the vast chasm separating her from the rest of the world.

A clairvoyant was destined to be ostracized in a village of the blind. She acknowledged that.

Yet she had never heard Belfast described as a village of the blind. At this point, was this not the norm, and she the anomalous third-eyed being?

Yet Freugne could quickly dust herself off from such brief moments of despair.

This was hardly her first experience of meticulously formulated plans crumbling. Life seldom unfolded according to design.

Recalling Edan’s tribulations after her own arrogance, Freugne recognized that learning from failure was intrinsically human – she was no exception.

With a clearer mind, Freugne sought out Edan – the sole confidant with whom she could openly and candidly consult.

“It must stem from the previous hero.”

“?”

The prompt response indicated a topic she had anticipated, prompting Freugne’s quizzical tilt.

He did not imply any wrongdoing by the hero – quite the contrary, their remarkable accomplishments. Ironically, that very proficiency had become poisonous.

Responding to her inquisitive expression, Edan elaborated:

“When I visited Antrim, the officers’ arrogance compelled me to investigate further.”

“What did you discover?”

Edan recounted his findings:

‘War, you say? Fear not. Even if such a calamity befalls us, our military shall undoubtedly prevail!’

‘Glasgow will promptly crush their insolence from the rear!’

Clearly, some rationale underpinned these convictions.

While unpalatable and unconvincing, a basis nevertheless existed.

The ordinary could never emulate a hero. Yet they must ceaselessly strive towards that ideal.

An understandable mindset, idolizing national champions.

The problematic aspect was the conclusion derived:

‘But why have they forsaken such efforts? Due to the present complacency, in essence – a lack of desperation.’

‘Thus, their minds require a forcible adjustment!’

‘Inexpensive, too – no need to replace equipment. A more perfect solution is inconceivable.’

The hero’s mere existence embodied national pride.

Though currently allied against the Demons, humans had historically sought dominion over one another. A republic-born hero implied some inherent superiority over the kingdom – historical validation.

This also served as an antidote for forgetting past humiliations.

And one method of obscuring such blunders was denigrating the adversary:

‘The Demons are not truly formidable. With the hero’s mindset reinstated, we can prevail in a proper rematch.’

‘Unfavorable circumstances and sheer ill luck led to that prior defeat. But the present differs.’

‘Hah, surely we cannot falter twice?’

This complacency foreshadowed devastation.

“Then we must either rectify their perceptions or replace the personnel……”

“Yet both options prove challenging.”

Freugne nodded in solemn agreement.

With her basis being ‘I have directly witnessed the future!’, their skepticism was understandable. If mere words could resolve this, such agonizing would be unnecessary.

Yet pursuing the latter course – conducting purges without justification – also presented inherent difficulties.

Having simulated such scenarios in Londinium and Antrim, she could assess the complexities involved.

Apathetic councilors during previous wars could be replaced under the pretext of failing to preemptively address embedded Demonic insurgents.

Then, by installing more palatable replacements repeatedly decrying ‘We must prepare for the Demonic threat!’ under the guise of prescience, their positions could be consolidated.

Of course, reducing such intricate power dynamics to a mere few lines vastly oversimplified the actual convoluted process.

“Precisely how would you proceed?”

“Would you like me to divulge that, Uncle? As your niece, I cannot withhold anything – a proposal exclusively for your consideration, undisclosed to anyone else.”

“……I think I’d prefer to remain oblivious.”

“Heh.”

While circumventing a few obstacles was feasible, such overt actions in Londinium would inevitably arouse suspicions about her existence. The republic’s relatively weaker control rendered such measures unviable.

A pretext was required.

Justification to dismiss them and install capable leadership.

And in wartime, the pretext for dismissal meant defeat and ineptitude.

During such extraordinary circumstances, disproportionately promoting accomplished officers aroused minimal unease – provided the accelerated promotions remained within reasonable bounds.

Leapfrogging seven ranks within a year would raise eyebrows.

-Knock knock-

Jolted from her contemplation by the knocking, Freugne’s eyes refocused on the present.

“I’m back.”

“How did it go? Ah, should I address you as Division Head now?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“So what transpired?”

Currently, Edan represented her swiftest warfront liaison.

While she could obtain rumors aplenty, truly ‘reliable’ sources remained scarce.

“War has commenced, and the Belfast Army was routed.”

“As anticipated. And did you secure General Andrei’s cooperation?”

“Yes.”

With the blade named ‘pretext’ newly grasped, personnel administration no longer posed a significant obstacle for Freugne.

And preceding that, the time had arrived to identify the talent to spearhead this undertaking.

---

A man with the soul of prairie stars flowing within –

Cavalry officer-turned-Major General Andrei epitomized the worldly breed who drowned sorrows in cyberwine.

Certainly, he possessed the grandiose pride inherent to the esteemed Belfast Army.

Yet if asked whether that pride eclipsed his desire for greater wealth and power, he would affirm it – only to recant with a bemused shrug upon further introspection.

Nevertheless, indulging his ambitions had elevated him to lofty ranks. In that sense, he resembled Freugne.

Moreover, the extent of his covetousness remained within the bounds she deemed acceptable, a subtle yet pivotal distinction from his peers that would shape his destiny.

“I hear you have summoned me, Magician Edan. A pleasure to reunite after so long. Have you been well?”

“Gratified to see you in good health as well, General.”

“With pivotal matters afoot, any mishap would prove ill-timed indeed.”

Their previous encounter had involved supplying Edan’s armored trucks to the Belfast Army.

Subsequently, they had exchanged correspondence regarding these ‘vehicular juggernauts’ on occasion.

Edan and Andrei’s association, facilitated by the Carno Institute, scarcely spanned a year.

Yet Andrei’s name had graced Edan’s awareness for quite some time – he who had largely secluded himself from the world.

Glasgow’s Defense Research Division Head had also pioneered air conditioning technology, necessitating such amenities in his own residence.

A preeminent Martop luminary, philanthropist, and entrepreneur – achievements dating back nearly five years.

Yet for reasons unclear, the General suspected this was merely the beginning.

Mere days prior:

“I have experienced this war!”

A lieutenant, freshly returned from the battlefield, had abruptly exclaimed.

“Has the lad finally lost his wits after witnessing the Demons? Perhaps insufficient slumber?”

“No, I genuinely lived through it!”

“Why, have you perchance time-traveled from the future? If so, why would you bother returning here?”

“Not precisely experienced, but rather… ah, the examination! Did it not uncannily mirror the scenario? The terrain, Demonic forces, strategies… though admittedly, my articulation falters, but nonetheless!”

“I cannot fathom your meaning, Lieutenant.”

“You’ve encountered such mentally unsound soldiers before, have you not? A similar case, no doubt. A few strikes to reset their minds should promptly restore normalcy.”

Half dismissing it as a whim, Andrei had decided to indulge the unfortunate lieutenant teetering on the brink with a merciful audience.

“Let us hear him out, for the moment.”

He had scarcely anticipated conducting promotion evaluations.

Vaguely recalling mentions of assessing them recreationally, yet nothing more. Rank held little consequence for a Major General.

Yet with the topic broached, curiosity compelled him to skim the examination contents.

And Andrei, initially harboring no preconceptions beyond an officer’s bid for attention, soon found himself entertaining peculiar conspiracy theories.

The locations listed in this so-called ‘promotion evaluation’ differed, as did the weather and terrain details.

Yet the overarching narrative aligned: primarily the disparity between Demonic and human forces, morale factors, the initial chaos and defeat.

“The council provided this?”

“Allegedly with input from self-proclaimed military experts, but essentially, yes.”

“Rather difficult to accept.”

Had the council always possessed such competence?

The council he knew amounted to mere decorative fixtures engaging in perpetual idle posturing.

While individuals could transform under duress, restraints existed. Such a radical metamorphosis suggested an infiltration rather than an evolution, given the largely unchanged composition.

‘Unless an internal issue, could external intervention be the answer?’

And the more one knew, the more one perceived.

Armed with this tentative lead, Andrei delved earnestly into what he had once dismissed as bargain-bin conspiracy theorizing.

A shadow cabal, no less – one spanning Londinium and Antrim, no less. Even stray mongrels would scoff at such notions.

Yet Andrei did not lack tenacity to abandon pursuits midway, and his position afforded ample access to information gatherers.

Moreover, this ‘shadow cabal’ selectively leaked further insights, allowing him to approximate the truth.

Approximate.

Not the entire truth.

“Magician.”

“Yes?”

“My forthcoming query may seem rather abrupt, yet indulge me.”

Indicating he had reached conclusions akin to those in Londinium’s inner circles.

“…Might you perhaps have a request for me?”