A Young Woman's Political Record (Youjo Senki/Saga of Tanya the Evil)

Eight years was a long time.

Eight years was time enough for an Empire to fight off an invasion, to win battle after battle against enemy after enemy, and to lose a war under the unrelenting pressure from all the world. Eight years was time enough for a young girl to go through officer training, serve with distinction, graduate from war college, command a battalion in countless battles, and then be discharged without a pfennig to her name.

In eight years, the orphanage hadn't changed at all. When I was a child, it had to scrimp and save to scrape together enough food to satisfy the gaggle of children under its care. Through the deprivations of war time they had to scrimp and save just to get by. Now, as the nation shuddered under the crushing pressure of the peace terms imposed on the Empire, the nuns no doubt intended to scrimp and save and do their best to feed the latest batch of orphans.

I had never expected to see this place again. Between my magical talent and my knack for managing bureaucratic rules I thought a successful military career was in the bag. I had every intention of rising through the ranks and securing a cushy posting near military headquarters. Government provided housing, a guaranteed salary, and, in due time, a government pension would all be mine.

It didn't work out quite the way that I planned. Well, I did rise through the ranks. And while the government provided housing was often a tent near the front rather than an apartment in the capital, I never did have to worry about paying rent. The problem was with the salary and the pension. By the end of the war the Empire was paying us in scrip rather than cash. It spent well enough on the front, but once the war ended all of the demand vanished overnight. My savings from the previous years of service had been deposited in a bank that had had all of its assets seized by the invading forces. As for the pension, well, the newfound Republic of Germania refused to take on most of the debts incurred by the Empire.

I had done everything right to rise to the top of the organization. Unfortunately, the organization had come crashing down around my ears. I was in the same position as a salaryman who put decades of blood, sweat and tears into securing a corner office just in time for my company to declare bankruptcy and disappear.

The Imperial military still existed. Sort of. Under the draconian provisions of the Treaty of Triano the Republic of Germania had a hard limit on the size of its army and the number of tanks, airplanes, and artillery pieces it could field. When it came to aerial mages, the permitted number was zero. Not only that, but the military was not allowed to employ any individual who had served as an aerial mage in the past. Nor was any other branch of the government allowed to hire such a person.

Major Tanya von Degurechaff. Only living recipient of the Silver Wings Assault Badge. Youngest graduate of the Imperial War College. Highest confirmed kill count of any aerial mage in the Great War.

With all of that and ten marks I could buy a loaf of bread. No, actually, ten marks was the old price. It was fifteen marks this morning. The idiotic fiscal policies of the new government were already starting to bear their poisonous fruit. That's nothing to do with me, though. I could only hope that some day the nation's economists will figure out that printing enough money to buy foreign currency at any price will lead to unsustainable levels of inflation.

Now I was just stalling. Procrastination was beneath the dignity of an Imperial soldier or a salaryman. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and knocked on the door. It didn't take long before the door opened to reveal a familiar face, albeit a face with more worry lines than I remembered. Perhaps the orphanage hadn't been as untouched by the war as I had thought.

"Sister Margaret. It has been a while."

She took a moment to look me up and down. I knew exactly what she was seeing. A girl, seventeen years old but with the appearance of a tween, barely cracking five feet in height. Messy blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders in compliance with military regulations. A jacket and pants combination that was tailored to military specifications but with all unit and rank insignia removed. A duffel bag held in one hand the only sign of luggage.

It took longer than I had expected, but eventually recognition flashed in her eyes. "Major Degurechaff!"

"Just Tanya, now," I said, shaking my head, before explaining my dismissal from the military.

The flash of disappointment that crossed her face was unmistakable. I could hardly blame her. A moment ago she thought that the orphanage could boast of a distinguished alumni, and now she'd discovered that what should have been a pillar of support was as destitute as any of her charges.