RM Vol 3: For a World without Boundary – Chapter 20-3: Building their powerbases (Part 3)

Author notes:

Back at it again! Mom is all good now! Well, as good as she could be for her age with a relentless ailment, but yeah. Her getting better is such a relief. And a large part of her recovery is all due to you, the readers. So you all lovely guys and gals have my thanks!

Now, onto the chapter. This is the last catching up part before we goes into the meat of the current turmoil on planet Gaia. I am hoping that what's about to come next will be a pleasant surprise for all of you. Belkan flex, to put it mildly. :D

Also, a sudden call back to all those chapters ago! Gosh, the nostalgia... I won't lie, I was fumbling around in the dark when I first started this project. But now? Given time, I am slowly shaping it up to something grander, and most importantly, better. All thanks to you, my readers.

Before you all go though, allow me to congratulate GhostArmy and Pheonix Rampant! They're now made Corporal and Captain respectively! Their contribution to the cause is very much welcome and I hope they enjoy their new tenures.

Enjoy!

P.S: I remade Lu's art (Still not very pleased with it yet) and here's another pic of Yuki, this time, in her Winter Campaign attite (A teaser for the future?)

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"... And I am telling you that the war plan is fucking ludicrous! Even a five-year-old retard can come up with a better response than that!" The Ustian Prime Minister screamed into the phone, his frustration was clear for Dana Elvidge to hear. "We already lost Arash to the Belkans, and by not willing to reinforce the Ardennes, we're leaving the entirety of Northern Ustio wide open!"

Though Dana knocks on the door before stepping in, the Minister only offers a beckoning hand, still busy exchanging flak with the person on the line to care about much else. "Unfavorable terrains? Never favored large operations? Largely impenetrable? Are you daft!? We are not the only countries to have advancements in technology in the span of a few years! Who the fuck knows what sort of witchcraft the Belkans developed now, huh!?"

Shaking her head at the flushed Prime Minister, Dana can only smile wryly at that question. Even she, as an undercover agent, doesn't know just how far has Belkan developed in her years of absence.

"The Maginot Line will be impenetrable as long as special provisions were taken to destroy an invasion force as it emerged from the Ardennes by a pincer attack...?" The Prime Minister suddenly asked back in a subdued voice. It seems that the one on the line is trying to make a counterargument. "Just what the fuck had your mother breastfed you with you piece of numbskull?!"

And apparently, it failed miserably.

"If I don't receive a contingency plan, on my table, in three days, you can consider yourself relive of your duty, shithead!" The Minister then slammed the phone hard, hanging it up before taking a deep breath.

After ten seconds, he turns to Dana, his secretary. "Now with that out of the way, you have something to give me?" His tone is surprisingly mellow unlike before.

Dana nods before stepping forth and handing over a stack of letters with seals. "Everyone on the list has offered their response to your correspondence. I haven't checked the content of specific letters yet but otherwise, they're safe for your eyes only."

The Prime Minister smirks before deftly breaking the seal of one. "Spoken like a spy now. Your skill in shadowy matters is improving day by day." The Minister jested, making Dana roll her eyes. "I need to be, otherwise, it's my head that rolls on the floor. If I recall correctly, my post as a secretary isn't supposed to include any underhanded assignment?"

The Prime Minister responds. "What? Getting cold feet on the brink of greatness?"

Dana answers. "I would had it not been for the pay and insurance package accompanying the job."

The Prime Minister chuckles. "Good! Because we are one step closer to vision!" The Minister then put away the first letter, taking up another one. "Marks my words, Belka is on the rise and everything will crumble beneath its wake."

Seeing the cruel, meaningful smile on the Ustian Prime Minister's face, Dana can only shake her head. "You know, I've worked with you for years already and I still don't know just what the hell is driving your actions. Yet, I work my butt off any day every day for unknown reasons."

The Minster laughs aloud at that. "Would you still stick with me had you know, my friend?"

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"Ram that bastard!" Shouted an Ustian Reformist tank commander before he felt the tank jerk forth, hard. Then, the complete weight of a multi-ton Panzer III M comes crashing down on a Chariot-class Demon, crushing it beneath the mighty Belkan-made treads.

Not stopping there, the tank commander gives the gunner a target to engage. "Gunner, Chariot, 200 meters, traverse left!"

"Identified!" The gunner controlling the 57mm cannon of the tank responded. The man can see that whitish freak of nature barreling toward the walls of the town they're defending.

"Fire!"

"On the way!" The gunner shouted as the turret rocked back due to the cannon firing. An empty shell casing is ejected out of the breach while the commander calls out to the loader of the tank. "Load AP!"

Without missing a beat, the loader hoists an APCBC shell and slides it into the breach, saying. "Ammo up!"

But there's no target, yet. Despite the ongoing sporadic sounds of gunfire and combat elsewhere, the crew of the Panzer III M suddenly finds themselves without any nearby enemy to engage.

Noticing the lull around them, the radio operator of the crew asks back. "Did we kill all the Demons around the plot?"

Hearing that stupid question, the tank commander, gunner, and driver direct their collective glare at the radio operator. "Shit... I just jinxed us, didn't I?"

As if on cue, a loud roar can be heard, shaking even the steel hull of the tank itself. The primal roar that promises untold cruelty sends a wave of chill down the spine of the Panzer III's crew, prompting the tank commander to quickly say. "That you sure did! Driver, get us moving! Radio, hail the others, and figure out what the hell was that! The entire town must have heard it!"

With a loud grumbling, the Panzer III M is directed off from its perching atop the corpse of a pancaked Chariot. Its turret swivels from left to right to scan for the obvious threat that just announced its presence.

The driver makes the right call on his own judgment, saying. "Hey, I am taking us somewhere close to our nearest holdout. I have a bad feeling and I don't think we can tackle whatever that was alone."

"Good idea, take there nice and steady in case we need to engage anything." The tank commander nodded while using his commander periscope to help spot any target.

Suddenly, movement from a tree line is identified by the commander. At first, he isn't sure what he is seeing is correct. But by the time the fifth tree is broken in half by a colossal hunk of a quadrupedal beast, the commander knows for sure that they're in for a mess. "Gunner, 400 meters, traverse left!"

Swinging the turret around, the gunner pales at the impossible-to-miss target barreling at them in his scope. "Sweet mother of Jesus!? What the Hell is that thing?"

"Just fire!" The commander screamed while turning out of the tank and taking hold of the anti-aircraft MG-34 mounted on the commander's cupola. The 57mm cannon of the Panzer III screams to life while the commander is seen racking the charging handle for the machine gun.

Taking aim at the humongous Demon coming straight at them, the tank commander sweats at the fact that an armor-piercing shell just bounces off the curving protective layer of the beast. "Lord have mercy..." Pushing through his fear, the commander just squeezes the trigger, not even letting it up for a second. As a hail of 8mm bullets tickling the thick hide of the Demon, the main gun of the Panzer III announces its presence once more. And although the second shell leaves more than a mark, scoring a shallow penetration on its skin, the Demon has come too close for another attack.

The commander hastily ducks back into the turret compartment, barely able to close the hatch when the whole tank suddenly rocks heavily before the world turns upside down. The last thing he can remember before blacking out is him saying.

"Lord... Why is my tank being tossed again?"

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Waking up with a start, the loader tries to scramble back on his feet in fright, only for a hand to rest on his shoulder, stopping him. "Easy there son." The familiar voice of his commander makes the loader stop and looks around. Seeing the last person he is expecting to see right now, the loader can't help but ask. "... Am I in Heaven?"

Looking at where the loader of the crew is gazing, the commander can't help but let knowing hums. "Princess Rosa Bonaparte herself and her entourage of finest of maids... Yeah, I would have mistaken that this was Heaven too if I was in your boots."

As part of her plan to gain military and populace support, Rosa and her maid, Mary, are going around the frontline regions to bolster morale. It's working as intended as the townspeople love her very much while the soldiers maintain dutiful overwatch around the Princess.

Patting the loader on the shoulder a few times, the commander continues. "If previous records are to be trusted, then she will come to visit our medical station, here, very soon. You may just have the chance to see her up close, Private."

The loader flinches. "I was hoping that I will be more presentable than, well, this..." He gestured to his broken leg and bandaged head, making the commander chuckle. "First time?"

Turning to look at his commander, the loader asks. "Of what exactly?"

"Of getting your tank flung away by something above your tonnage." The commander smirked.

"... So the rumor is true?"

Shrugging, the commander responds. "Pretty much. In the beginning, there were only three of us, and our tank was totaled in pretty much the same manner as now. Meaning, it was crashed by something and thrown into the air, rolling a few times here and there. Only back then, it was the plane that was carrying the current Reich Marshal of Belka that kicked us away, not a literal Demon boar or something along the line. But Heaven blessed us on both occasions, aside from taking a few bruises and some broken bones, all of us got out alive. The others are up and are examining our Panzer III wreck with us being the most injured of the bunch. Hence, us being here in the med station." The commander then gestures to his broken arm in a cast.

"... Damn, now that's one thing to tell your kids about." The loader commented before resting his head on the pillow while the commander laughs in agreement.

"Well, that's one positive thing to take out from that mess!"

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Elsewhere, in an extravagantly ornate room. A plump man, garbed in the most luxurious of robes and golden crosses, can be seen spitting out his spits as his words berate the high-ranking officers across his table. "Say it! Say it to the hand of Christ!" The man, easily identified as the Pope of Christianity due to his hard-to-not-notice attire, shouted.

And before the Sardegnian Generals can even fathom the idea of responding, Pope Mussolini of the Sardegnian Papacy has already waved his hands around like flail. "My hand is a rotor blade and your opinion means nothing! I want more units to be funneled into Spain! The heretics must be decimated! And the betrayers to God's Will must be destroyed! Now begone from my sight!"

Leaving behind naught but a short bow, the military men file out of the room, leaving Mussolini to huff a heavy, frustrated breath.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance." Said the voice from a darker corner of the room, unseen by any others prior to her speaking up. Mussolini, however, isn't surprised by the sudden intrusion. "Go on." The Pope said before sitting down heavily, pouring himself a large goblet of wine.

The hidden voice then says. "With the first batch of Crusaders making their stance clear, a new and growing faction has appeared in the Spanish lands. One that upholds the clause of neutrality very well, only participating in defensive maneuvers at most. Those mundane Generals won't be able to utilize or dislodge this faction, not if they want their fragile defense line to hold against the Spanish Coalition's counterattack."

"Suggestion?" Mussolini asked after taking a healthy gulp of wine and placing the goblet on the table.

"We wait. At least, until my next batch of Crusaders is ready. Only this time, they're perfectly servile to us. I've taken... precautions to prevent another happenstance of rebellious Saint."

"Good."

The voice then continues. "With the second batch ready, we will then send them to dismantle the third faction and retrieve Kallen Kaslana. As an S-rank Crusader, she still has her uses. With her being dealt with, the Crusaders will fall into line and the operation to conquer Spain will resume, back on its proper track."

"Then we do as your say, Lady Lyssa." The Pope said before suddenly collapsing on the table like a puppet with its strings cut. Ignoring the sleeping Pope, an ominous chuckle can be heard before fading out of existence.

"No plans survive first contact. But it doesn't mean I can't adapt to sudden changes. Kallen Kaslana, you will support me in my endeavor, by hook or by crook. Ufufufu..."