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Chapter 03 – In the Archives
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Recruit Carl Wahl heard a voice coming from the lecture hall; he couldn't make out the words but the tone sounded like a curse. He peeked his head inside and found only one person inside: the Darkwood child. She was staring at the front of the classroom with an intent expression as if she were watching the most serious lecture, but with no one actually lecturing.
While trying to figure out what she found so interesting, he saw an eraser in the chalk tray suddenly lurch forward of its own accord. Darkwood let out an annoyed grunt; a disapproving expression scrunched the freckles on her face.
“Did you do that?” Wahl asked.
The child looked over to him. “Huh?” she asked.
“That eraser, it just moved, did you do that?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I'm practicing my telekinesis spell.” She held out her hand and the eraser lifted up out of the tray. She waved her hand around and the eraser danced around in the air before returning to its original position.
“So it is true...” Wahl looked back at her. “So that's what you did to Bronner?”
She nodded. “Yeah. How is he, by the way? I haven't seen him around ever since I taught him that the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the force.”
Wahl's face contorted in confusion. “Destroy a... what?”
She shook her head. “Never mind, forget I said anything. Hey, could you help me with something?”
Wahl paused just a moment, “What did you need?”
“Well when I use the telekinesis spell, I always wind up waving my hands around. I've been trying to figure out how to move something without moving my hands too, but I just can't manage to get it to work.”
Wahl held up his hands in a shrug. “I don't know how I can help; I've never heard of this spell you are using. I thought they said it was a natural talent.”
“I just want your help testing something. Can you hold my arms for a moment?”
“Eh?”
“I want to see if I can still use my telekinesis when I can't move.”
“Okay; I can do that.” Wahl walked over and grabbed the child's arms.
She fixed her gaze on the eraser. A moment later her arm jerked, and the eraser skidded across the tray.
Darkwood frowned. “No, I still moved my arm; you're going to have to hold me tighter than that.”
Wahl re-positioned himself. “Alright, can we just try it with one arm?”
She nodded, “Sure.”
Wahl gripped her forearm forcefully with both hands and leaned his weight over the desk. She tightened her hand into a fist, and a moment later he could feel her muscles tighten while he heard the eraser skid through the chalk tray.
“One more time,” she said. There was a long pause while she scrunched her face in concentration. And then once again he felt her muscles tighten while the eraser slid down the chalk tray.
She turned her head away with a pouting face. “Alright, thanks.”
“What are you so upset about? Didn't you just move it without moving your arm?”
“But I still tried to move my arm; I still flexed my muscles. As much as I try, I just can't manage to move something with my telekinesis without telling my body to move an arm or a hand.”
Wahl shook his head. “I think you're taking this too hard. You have an amazing gift with this spell; can't you just be satisfied with that?”
“Alright, I'll show you why. Let's see, what can I use...” The child darted her head around the room. “Ah, that will work!” She held her hand up towards the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The long wooden pointer-stick in the chalk tray shot out and flew straight into Amber's hand. She opened a textbook, dropped the pointer-stick between the pages, and closed the book again. “Here,” she said, handing over her little creation, “hold this like a rifle.”
She slipped a ruler into another textbook and walked to the other side of the room, holding it like it was a firearm. She spun around and called out “We are enemy combatants, meeting on the field of battle. Shoot me.”
Wahl felt silly, but he went along with it with a casual demeanor. He pointed the 'rifle' at her and called out “Bang!”
With a confident smirk she called out “You missed; look where you're pointing.”
Wahl looked down, and sure enough the pointer was aiming a bit too far to the left. Well no matter, he quickly corrected his aim. “Bang!” he called out again.
Amber gestured wordlessly. Wahl noticed that now his pointer was aiming too far to the right.
With a perplexed expression, Wahl slowly moved his makeshift weapon back into position, but it moved quickly. He gripped the book tightly and tried to force it carefully to point at the child, but all that accomplished was making it more apparent that an unseen force kept pushing it to the side.
“Well are you going to shoot me or not?” Amber called out.
Wahl nodded gently. “I get it, I get it, you're pushing my gun so I can't aim it right.”
“From a respectable distance, all I need to do is give it a little nudge, and your aim will be off just enough that you'll miss, and never even know why.”
Wahl tried to conceal how impressive he thought it was. “Okay, I can see how useful that would be.”
“But there's a problem,” she said, “look at my gun.”
Wahl looked up at her and made a sweep to point his makeshift-rifle at her. Just as he felt it get pushed to the side she made a slight jerk with her weapon.
“Ahhh...” Wahl said it with some genuine interest. “I get it now; if you have to move your hands to do that, you're moving your own weapon, so you can't get a clear shot in either.”
“And sure, I don't have to move my rifle as much as I move yours, so maybe I can get in a quick shot before you do, but it still takes time, and in a real battle...”
Wahl nodded. “I see, I see. That's still an amazing trick, and even if you can't shoot back in the exact same moment, you could still avoid getting shot, and that's still something.”
“Yeah, as long as I keep practicing.”
“Well, keep practicing. I... I'd follow you into battle, but I wouldn't fight beside you.”
They both smirked while gently chuckling.
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* * *
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In case anyone is wondering, no, I wasn't a soldier in my first life. I had many friends that were, but I didn't think that was the life for me, at least not when I was a young man.
I had different thoughts about it when I was older, though. More responsible and mature, I would have been a better fit for the structure of the military than I was in my youth. And moreover, I knew better what I wanted out of life. In my late thirties I evaluated what I had done with my life, and I thought, if I were young again, maybe I would want to become an Apache pilot.
Not a pilot for the jet fighters, but the attack helicopters; they fly lower and move more nimbly than airplanes. They just look more fun to me. (Although I suppose I'll need to explain what a helicopter even is.)
I don't know how serious I really was about that idea; it sounded fun, but it also can be dangerous to think too much about something you can't go back and change. It's not like I could really expect to be given a brand-new life. It's just one of those dreams you have, smile about it from time to time, and then put it away again while you go back to your life.
But when I first saw what the air mages were piloting, well, the dream of being a pilot suddenly had a real place in my life. I found something I wanted to fly even more than an Apache helicopter.
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General Greenfield's face turned to a pained expression. “Wait, what exactly did the colonel ask her?”
Sergeant Baum shook his head a little. “I don't recall his exact words; something about asking her what the best things in life are.”
“And... Amber responded by saying, 'to crush your enemies, see them driven before you...'”
“...And hear the lamentation of their women. I swear to God those were her exact words.”
The general buried his face in his palms. “This girl... I swear... I promised that I wouldn't drink until the war was over, but this girl is making me want to break that promise for entirely the wrong reasons!”
Sergeant Baum furrowed his brow for a moment. Finally he broke the silence. “If I may ask, sir, why are you so obsessed with this Darkwood girl?”
The general merely cocked an eyebrow at him with a disapproving glare.
“Okay, there is the obvious. But apart from that, you seem to have... something personal toward this child.”
General Greenfield let out a slow breath. “In a manner of speaking, she is my responsibility. Her being in the Army is my fault. I met her... has it really been two years already? She was only six at the time...”
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“Colonel Greenfield,” Tiana stated, “there is a little girl here looking for her father.”
Colonel Greenfield raised a perplexed expression. “Laura?”
Tiana's mouth widened into an embarrassed frown, “No sir, not your daughter. I'm sorry, I meant she's looking for information on her father; he died fighting in Hura. She's an orphan, I'm afraid, and she's trying to find information about her father.”
“Oh; do we have a name?”
“Darkwood, sir.”
Greenfield tapped his chin lightly. “Darkwood... That sounds familiar... Yes I think I remember hearing about a Darkwood... Was he a lieutenant?”
“I don't know sir; we'd like to check the records, but I don't have the authority to go through what we'd need.”
The colonel snapped his fingers. “Erik Darkwood! Yes, I remember now; he was one of the last people to die in the war! Certainly the last one under my command. Hmm, you know what Tiana, I'd like to handle this one personally. Why don't you show me where this girl is at?”
A few moments later Colonel Greenfield walked into the reception office. Seated in the lobby area was a small girl with sandy-blonde hair wearing a faded-blue dress. Freckles were scattered across her cheeks and nose. With her wiry build she didn't look like she was old enough to be the daughter of someone who never came home from Hura. She sat very patiently, nose deep in a large book, and didn't even sway her legs in her seat.
The colonel smiled politely. “That's an awfully big book for such a small girl. What are you reading?”
The child pressed her finger in-between the pages and held the book up for him to see.
Greenfield blurted out in shock, “The dictionary?!”
She responded with a dryly irate tone, “No one takes you seriously if you can't communicate eloquently, but it's even worse for a child.” She had a slight accent that sounded foreign, but it was not one he could pin down. She pulled the book back open and resumed her reading.
The colonel nodded. “Yes, I would imagine so. Are you the girl who is looking for information on her father?”
“Oh!” The child quickly slipped a leaflet into the book and set it down, and then stood up. “Yes, sir! My name is Amber Darkwood!” She placed her hand out in a very formal manner.
Greenfield gently shook the young girl's hand and smiled warmly. “It's nice to meet you, Amber. I am Colonel Greenfield.”
“Colonel...” Amber softly spoke, “that is... beneath a general, and above a... Dang, hold on.” She grabbed her dictionary and flipped through it very quickly. “Above a major; typically in charge of a regiment of multiple battalions.”
“That's right,” the colonel nodded.
“Above a major...” she spoke wistfully, “I thought after major it was a lieutenant-colonel?”
Greenfield tilted his head with a mildly perplexed expression. “Lieutenant-Colonel? I've never heard that one. There are two different classes of colonel, second class and first class. That's it.”
“The lower class isn't called a lieutenant-colonel?”
Greenfield shook his head. “Not in this nation. Lieutenants also have first and second class ranks; perhaps you were getting them mixed?”
“Oh.” Amber paused a moment and then closed her dictionary. “Must be something I read in some foreign fantasy story.”
“So how can I help you, Amber Darkwood?”
“I am trying to find information on my father; I am told he was a soldier and died before I was born.”
“Was his name Erik Darkwood?”
Amber's face lit up, “Ah, yes it was!”
“He served under me; when I was a colonel second-class. I didn't know him personally, mind you. There were a lot of people that served under me. But I happen to remember the name; I was talking to some other officers about fallen soldiers just the other day. So what did you want to know about him?”
Amber's head dropped a little. “Well you see...” She looked back up at him. “I wanted to find out if he had any family. Any siblings, living parents, next-of-kin.”
“Next of kin?” Greenfield repeated.
“You see sir, my parents were not actually married. In fact, I think my mother may have been a prostitute. None of the Sisters at the orphanage will tell me, but it seems the most-likely case. But regardless, I doubt that anyone from my father's family knew of his relationship with my mother. So... Maybe I have family somewhere?”
The colonel's face turned to a cross between suspicion and concern. “...Where do you live, Amber?”
“In an orphanage in Stonsberg. It's... fine. I am taken care of there. But I think, if I have some blood relatives out there, perhaps that might be a better place for me?”
Greenfield nodded. “I see. But this is a military installation. You should be checking public records in a government office.”
“I have, sir, it's why I came here to the capital.” She grabbed some papers nestled in the back cover of her dictionary. “But there are at least five different Erik Darkwoods on public record that might have been my father. And I don't know when he was born or what city he's from or what other family members he has, so I don't know which of these is the one I was looking for. The only thing I was told was that he served in the Army, and died in Hura. So I thought I would try to cross-reference these with military records to try to narrow down the field.”
Colonel Greenfield straightened up his back and crossed his arms. “You have done your homework, little lady. How old are you exactly?”
“Six, sir.”
Colonel Greenfield smiled gently. 'Well, she's a little older than I thought.'
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Baum repeated in a surprised tone, “She was reading the dictionary?”
General Greenfield nodded. “Yes, she was.”
The sergeant sighed but then shook his head. “Actually, I feel pretty stupid for being surprised about that. So what happened next?”
“Well we started checking the records we had there in the office. His records weren't there, of course, they were still filed in the old archives building. Honestly I thought I would stop there for the day, have someone else dig up his records and then send a copy to the orphanage. But I changed my mind when we found something else.”
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The room was a long and narrow concrete bunker. Electric lights dangled from the ceiling periodically. Metal shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. A sliver of a window against the far wall indicated that the ceiling was only a foot or so above ground level. Amber wondered if the ceiling was really high or if she was still just getting used to being so short.
“How old is this building?” Amber asked.
“It's younger than you, in fact. Not even four years old.”
“That explains the lack of dust.”
The colonel began speaking with a sense of pride. “This office is going to be the center for all military records and administration for generations to come. These rooms were designed just for keeping records. Though I don't know if your father's records have been moved here yet.”
“If you want this place to last that long, I hope you have something in place to protect against fires.”
“We do, in fact. See those pipes along the ceiling? And those little star-shaped valves?”
“Sprinkler system, got it. I was thinking more along the lines of separating into smaller rooms so that a fire doesn't spread to the whole facility, but sprinklers are important, too. What about protection from silverfish and other bugs? Mold? There's a lot of things that can destroy paper.”
“You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
'Well when you lose some old CD-R's to disc rot, and find you can't read your old zip discs anymore because you don't have a zip drive, you start to question the efficacy of your long-term data storage.'
Amber shrugged. “I think about a lot of things. It's just part of being me, I guess.”
“Here we are, if there's any records for a Darkwood, they'll be in this box. Now let's see...” Greenfield quickly flipped through the tabs on the folders. “Oh, there's one folder for a Darkwood.” He pulled the folder out and opened it up. “...Amber Darkwood.”
“There's someone with the same name as me serving in the Army?”
“...Born on the twelfth day of the seventh month, 1703.”
“Wait, that's me! Why do I have a file here?”
“You're a mage, Amber! You didn't mention that before.”
Amber frowned inside. 'There's that word again. Why can't anyone give me a definition that makes sense?' “Uh, yeah, they were testing for that at our last mandated physical, and that's what they told me. It was about three months ago. I don't see why I'd have a military record for that, though.”
“Mages are rare, Amber, and very powerful. The Empire keeps records of all its mages; if there's ever a war, all mages are conscripted into the military. So naturally, we have records for all our mages.”
“But... But I'm a girl...”
“It doesn't matter. Even women have to serve, if they are mages. That magic power makes them more valuable than even the strongest of men. And yours...” The colonel looked back at the file and froze. His eyes opened wide. “A... A hundred and seven?! Over eighty-five?! How can a six-year-old have that much control?”
Amber shrugged sheepishly. “I always get high numbers on my tests.” 'You shoulda seen the doctor's face when he checked my cholesterol.'
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“A hundred and seven?” The sergeant repeated, “But her power level is...”
“Well over 90,” the general cut in, “so it couldn't have been measured accurately in some routine physical.”
Sergeant Baum tilted his head down. “...right.”
The general continued. “As I was saying, one thing I've learned in all my years as an officer is that there is a big difference between the mages who are conscripted versus the ones who enlist. And with her having the highest power level I've ever seen, well, I wanted to make sure it didn't go to waste. I wanted to make sure she left with a positive impression of the Army, so that one day she'd want to join.
“So I decided to take her to the old archives building and make sure we found her father. But more than that, I wanted her to see what mages could do. Before we left, I made a quick call and had some air mages head out to the East field and start running some exercises. That way we could 'happen' to come across some mages while we were coming back.”
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It was easy to tell why they had decided to build a new building for their records. The old archive building predated the advent of electrical lighting, and the electrical lighting that had been added already felt outdated. The floors creaked and the open layout was even more susceptible to a fire. The shelves were packed in so tight that there was barely room to pull anything off of a shelf. The floorboards showed scratches and uneven fading that suggested that the shelves didn't use to be so tightly packed.
Nevertheless, everything was organized properly and it didn't take long to find the records they were looking for.
“Hmm, this folder is just labeled as 'Darkwood Family.'” The colonel pulled out the folder and thumbed through its contents. “Oh, these are old records from Oostina, before they became part of the Empire. We might find your grandfather in here, I suppose.”
He placed the folder back in the box and pulled out another. “Here we are, Erik Darkwood! Looks like the only Darkwood to serve in the Empire.” He opened the folder. “Yes, this must be your father. Killed in action, 05-05-1703; just two months before you were born, correct? Here's his photograph.” Greenfield unclipped a sepia-toned photograph and presented it to Amber.
“Oh, wow!” Amber tried to mimic an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. 'He's not my father; my father was Trevor Culver. This man is just...' Amber gingerly grabbed the photograph and looked at the man in the picture. It was... surreal. Darren didn't want to acknowledge the man as his father, yet when she saw the picture, she seemed to feel some certain connection. There was history, a real history, and it suddenly connected with her.
After a moment Greenfield tenderly spoke “Did you want to keep the photograph?”
Amber looked up, and then back at the photograph. “I better not; it will be preserved better among the military archives. Maybe... when I'm older, and have a house of my own. When I have a place to keep it, you know?” She handed the photograph back.
The colonel nodded and slid the picture back under the clip.
“Sir, if I may ask... Well, the library at Stonsberg doesn't have history books that describe events from just six years ago. Just what happened in Hura?”
The colonel paused for a moment. “Well, my division was only there for ten months. We were suited up for a two-year tour-of-duty. But the most unexpected thing happened; the King of Hura suddenly died, natural causes. The next day they crown the Prince and the first thing he does is call for an armistice, not even a full day after the old king died. Seems he wasn't keen on fighting a protracted war he knew he couldn't win. They're part of the Empire now; and the Prince is the Governor of that region.”
Greenfield looked back at the file. “Your father was the last soldier who ever died under my command. If he had lasted just one more day, he would have come home with everyone else.” He shook his head. “Well, this is his record. What did you need to see?”
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About twenty minutes later the two stepped outside the building.
“I'm sorry you didn't find what you were hoping for,” Colonel Greenfield stated somberly.
“Five Erik Darkwoods, and he's the only one without any living family.” Amber shrugged with her arms out wide. “That's just the way life goes, I guess.” 'It's not like this is the worst news I've ever had.'
Amber took a few steps before the colonel spoke up, “This way,” he said, pointing.
Amber turned and began following the colonel.
As they came by the East side of the base, a particular building by a field caught Amber's attention, one quite recognizable by its four-legged inhabitants. “Are those stables?” Amber asked, “Do you still use horses in war?”
Colonel Greenfield nodded. “Indeed we do.”
Amber shook her head. “You shouldn't; that's a terrible idea.”
The colonel smiled. “Aw, are you worried about all the nice horsies? Don't worry, they are well taken care of, and –”
“No I mean it's an inefficient use of resources. You have automobiles; you have trucks. They are far more reliable and capable. You shouldn't still be using horses.”
The colonel smirked. “True, but we still have them, so why not use them?”
Amber was quick on her reply. “Because they cost resources. Even when they are not in use, you still need feed and care for them. How long are these horses going to be sitting in these stables, waiting to be useful? The whole time they will consume resources. But a fleet of trucks doesn't need to burn gas just to sit in a garage.”
A look of surprise crossed the colonel's face. “True... But we still can't just get rid of them, and while we have them –”
“Sell them.”
Greenfield's face showed a bit more surprise.
“Put out fliers and hold a public auction. There are lots of people who would love to buy some horses at less-than-competitive rates. You might want to auction them off in phases; that way you can have word-of-mouth between ranchers talking about what a great deal they got on their new livestock, so then the next auction gets even more attention. And then you use the financial resources from the auction to build and develop more trucks.”
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“I remember those auctions,” the sergeant said. “You mean to tell me that she's the one responsible for that?”
The general's face glowered. “I was the one responsible for that,” he said with an offended tone. “Amber had the idea, yes, but after I submitted the proposal, I was the one who was tasked to make it happen. It took weeks just to work out the logistics! I spent the better part of a year making it actually happen! Do you know how many damn horses the Imperial Army had? On two continents?!”
The sergeant nodded with a hint of sheepishness on his face.
“Don't confuse the value of an idea with the value of the legwork to make it happen.”
“So,” Sergeant Baum began, “What happened with the mages? I take it seeing them in action did the trick?”
General Greenfield made an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes, it did. When she saw those mages flying through the air, it was the first and only time I ever saw a child-like demeanor on that girl. She stared at them with child-like wonder and asked the most simple questions. 'Are they really flying with magic?' 'You mean I get to do that when I'm older?' Things of that sort. For once, she actually acted like a six-year-old.”
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Colonel Greenfield pointed and spoke with a smile in his voice. “Why, look over there, Amber! There are some mages running some training exercises!”
'Ah, so this is why we're taking a different route back. Did you arrange this when you went back in your office, or were you just checking when they would be here?'
Amber looked across the field, and the shallow smirk on her face gave way to genuine awe.
The soldiers in the field were flying. They were not in planes, they were just flying.
“What... But... Colonel, they're flying, they're in the air and they're flying!”
The smirk in Greenfield's voice was just as strong as the one on his face. “Yes, that's what air mages do.”
“They are wearing jet-packs!”
“Jet...? They are called flight-packs. We used to use ones that had wings on them, but these are the latest models. You need a power level of at least 65 to be able to fly one of those, but we are trying to develop better ones that more mages can use.”
“But how is that possible?!” Amber asked. 'Everything I've seen in this world has looked like turn-of-the-century technology, 1920's at best. I saw them the day they installed electricity into the orphanage. How do they have freaking jet-packs on their soldiers?!'
Colonel Greenfield nodded his head and replied with a single word.
Amber had read that word in the dictionary; she looked it up when they spoke about the results of her physical. It described a source of power and energy that was used in a variety of ways. She could never quite figure out what its English counterpart was.
But she did notice that it had an archaic definition, one that referred to mystic, supernatural, and perhaps superstitious activities and power. That archaic definition sounded as if the word meant “magic.” But since it seemed people were using this power for actual activities, she had written off that connection.
But now... Seeing people flying through the air with jet-packs when airplanes were invented less than twenty years ago, using a power source that was only available to certain people gifted with its use... Could it be?
Could it be that this word really did mean “magic?”
“Magic...” Amber softly repeated. Magic, a source of power. Mage, a person who can use magic. Mana, the energy consumed to perform magic. These words she had read began to form new meaning in her head, as at last they all seemed to come together.
'...What else did they say about magic?'
“Colonel Greenfield,” Amber asked, “Mages... They need to wear a special orb in order to use magic?”
The colonel nodded. “That's right. Perhaps I can get one of them over here and you can see for yourself.” The colonel waved his arm in the air until one of the mages responded and flew down to them.
The mage touched down on the grass just a couple yards away from them on the other side of the fence, and quickly walked the few steps to get close. The mage was a woman in her early twenties. She stood at attention and saluted. “Sir! Did you need something from me?”
“At ease, Corporal, and... relax,” the colonel said in a casual tone. “What is your name?”
The mage undid the strap on her aviator cowl and gently shook her hair out. “Corporal Kris Bodmer, sir!” She then placed her arms behind her back.
Greenfield gestured to Amber and stated “Corporal Bodmer, this is Amber. She just recently learned that she is a mage, and I wanted to show her what mages are capable of.”
“Your hair is purple!” Amber called out. She looked up at the colonel. “Does the military really let soldiers dye their hair like that?”
Both the adults started laughing. Amber's face grew confused.
Greenfield said “It's not dyed, that's just one of the side-effects of using magic.”
Bodmer responded “When a mage uses enough magic, it changes the color of their hair.”
Amber looked up at the mage. “So, my hair is going to turn purple?”
Bodmer smiled. “It's a different color for everyone. No one knows why; it's just one of the quirks of magic.”
'Oh my word, they are magic soldiers with anime hair! This can't be real! I died and woke up in an isekai anime!'
“Corporal,” Greenfield said, “could you show Amber your orb?”
“Certainly, sir.” The corporal stepped closer to Amber, knelt down, and unzipped her flight suit partway. She wore a standard uniform under the flight suit; both were an olive-drab color. A round red jewel sat on her shirt; it was almost as big as her fist and was faceted like the top of a diamond. Her shirt was crafted and cut around the jewel as if the thing were embedded into her chest. “It has to be placed over the heart to get the best performance. We wear a special sling to keep it in place.” Small and barely-noticeable clips were positioned in her shirt around the jewel, presumably to keep her shirt from moving out of alignment with it; preserving the clean and orderly look of the military uniform.
“And you have a jet-pack?”
“She means your flight-pack.”
Bodmer turned to the side so that Amber could see the contraption strapped to her back. It was a sleek gun-metal gray backpack, rounded at the top, with a series of angled vents along the side and a large slotted vent on the bottom. The Imperial 'Iron Wings' emblem was painted in the middle. “The most complicated part is a levitation spell that almost makes a person float in the air. After that, there are a series of vents that provide thrust.”
A vent on the side of the pack began glowing. Amber could feel a gust of wind coming from it, like a hairdryer. “How do you control it?”
“The orb taps into the mana within my own body;” she faced Amber again and tapped her orb; it was also glowing while the pack was running. “I basically just think and move it, the same way your arms move when you think about it.” She held out her arms and performed a little swaying motion, activating the jets on either side when she moved the corresponding arm. As she did Amber noticed that her eyes also glowed, ever so slightly, in tandem with the orb. “But it does take a lot of practice, and getting used to. And because these spells are so complex, not just any mage can use one of these.”
Amber looked up with hopeful eyes. “What do I need to be able to fly?”
“With this orb and this flight pack, your magic rating needs to be at least 65 over 50.”
Amber's eyes lit up. “I have that! I have more than that!” She looked up at the colonel with a broad smile. “That means I get to fly with a magic jet-pack one day!”
Colonel Greenfield chuckled warmly. “Yes, yes you do!”
Corporal Bodmer held up a finger and turned her head to the side. “Just a sec,” she said. She continued looking away for a moment. She then placed her hand over her orb. “I'm here with the colonel; there's a young mage here that he wants me to show what being an air mage is like. Over.” She continued looking away for a moment. “Copy that.” She took her hand off her orb and looked back at the two people by her.
“You can use it as a radio, too?”
“That's right,” Bodmer said, nodding.
Amber's eyes narrowed slightly. “You had to say 'over' at the end of your statement; can it not broadcast and receive at the same time?”
“You're pretty bright, kid! The radio we use with magic can, but since we also talk to normal radios that can't, we have to use the same standard and keep in the habit of saying 'over.'”
Amber's face seemed to be returning to its normal countenance. “Hmmm, there's an easy fix for that, actually.” She looked up at the colonel. “It wouldn't be hard to build a small device into the trigger of a radio that makes a short chirping sound, like a 'doo-beep!' every time they press the trigger, and then a 'bee-doop!' every time they release it. That way the radio would automatically make a signal when a transmission ends, which eliminates the possibility of human error. After all, when soldiers are in the middle of a firefight, you don't want to waste time because the stress of battle led them to forget to end their message.”
The colonel shook his head. “You're just full of all kinds of ideas, aren't you?”
Bodmer asked “Where are you from, anyway?”
Amber replied “I've lived in Stonsberg ever since the day I was born.”
Bodmer stood back up and began zipping her flight suit back up. “Huh; that's strange because you sound like you have a bit of an accent.”
Amber shrugged and smiled. “Must be the 43 years I spent living overseas.”
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Sergeant Baum replied, “So you think she's so adamant to join the Army just so she can fly?”
General Greenfield let out an annoyed sigh. “For a normal child, I'd say yes. But for Amber... No, she's too smart for that one simple reason. Maybe she is looking for a challenge. Or maybe she's just that desperate to get out of the orphanage.”
Greenfield looked down at his desk. “At any rate, that isn't quite the end of the story of why I'm responsible. Once we were done with our little trip, well, I guess I was growing fond of the child, and it didn't sit right with me to let her walk back all the way to Stonsburg by herself. I offered to bring her home with me for the night, and I would have her driven back to the orphanage in the morning. Ten hetches is a long distance for a small girl.”
Baum thought for a moment, wondering how many hetches she'd marched just while he'd been speaking with the general.
Greenfield shook his head and smiled, “That's right, I remember now, I offered her dinner and she initially declined because she had brought dinner with her, just an apple and some crackers. Still came prepared, though.”
He looked back up at the sergeant. “At any rate, I convinced her to stay the night at my house. We talked a lot more; she made all kinds of suggestions, asked things about magic... And I could see how she was clearly better behaved than any of my children.”
“I don't think you should take that one personally, sir. I've seen her in the barracks; she's better behaved than most of the adults.”
Greenfield made a slight scoffing sound. “I expected as much. At any rate, when I got back to the office the next day, I wrote a recommendation for officer training and slipped it into her file. Perhaps 'recommendation' is too light; I basically demanded that she be made an officer. I could only imagine what she'd be like once she grew up.
“Of course, she didn't wait to grow up. She came back just two years later. Naturally you'd expect that she'd be flat-out rejected because of her age.”
“Naturally,” Baum nodded.
“Well there's two reasons that didn't happen. For one, while there is an age restriction for infantry, they removed an explicit age restriction for most auxiliary positions, with just a vague statement of 'applicant must demonstrate eligibility through ability.' It makes sense, really, we've had children act as squires back when battles were still fought with swords. And, well, it appears no one actually declared an age requirement for air mages, probably on account of how new they are. So officially, being an air mage falls under the demonstrated ability clause.”
“And the second reason?”
“It's that damn 'every citizen of the Empire is a citizen of the Empire' initiative that the Kaiser started pushing. I'm sure the top brass has been breathing down your neck pretty hard to make sure you treat everyone equally and fairly; they keep breathing down my neck about it, that's for sure. But I bet they breathe down the necks of the people in the recruiting offices hardest of all.
“Well, I talked to the recruiter who was there that day. He thought he was being tested. But he figured it would be easy enough, just run the child through some rudimentary tests, show that she's not qualified, send her back home. And then no one could accuse him of not being fair and equal to applicants, because he even gave an eight-year-old girl a chance.”
Baum gave a small smirk. “Sounds reasonable; hell, I'd do that too.”
Greenfield nodded. “Mmm-hmm. So, following procedure, he pulls her file.”
“Ah, and he finds a recommendation in it.”
“From a man he recognizes as a general, even though I was still a colonel when I wrote it.”
“I think I see where this is going. He takes it pretty seriously after that, she aces all her testing, and every step along the way, people think the same thing that I thought when I first saw her: that she's some kind of test the brass set up to make sure we are treating everyone the same.”
“And they mention the letter I wrote.” Greenfield crossed his arms and sighed. “That's why this is all my fault. That girl's going to get killed, and her blood is going to be on my hands. So yes, Sergeant, I am taking this a bit personally.”
Sergeant Baum stood there for a moment. He then looked the general in the eye and stated “Sir, there is something I think you need to see.”
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The recruits were running laps around the base while wearing heavy packs filled with random junk. It was always easy to recognize Darkwood from a distance just by her stature, but the heavy packs made the experience almost comical, as her pack was legitimately bigger than she was. But even so, she trotted along at the same pace as all the other soldiers. No, that wasn't true; the other soldiers were slowing down, having grown exhausted during the long conversation Baum and Greenfield were having.
“Do you see that?” Sergeant Baum said while gesturing to her. “Ever since she discovered that telekinesis spell of hers, she's been looking for every way she can exploit it. That right there? She's using it on herself; she's using magic to carry her pack.”
One of the other recruits slowed to a stop and placed his hand against a nearby post to keep his balance. Sergeant Baum grabbed the vox-orb strapped to his chest and twisted it up to a high volume. “Darkwood!” his voice boomed across the far distance to where she was running. “Your squad mates are falling behind!”
Amber quickly looked around her and saw the recruit leaning against the post. She waved her hand and the recruit's pack began to float forward. The startled recruit quickly started kicking his legs to keep up with the motion of his pack. The two began trotting the course at a sensible pace, the haggard demeanor of the other recruit revealing that his pack was not moving by his accord.
General Greenfield's mouth opened slightly out of shock.
Sergeant Baum twisted his vox-orb off. “Now watch this.” He twisted it back up to its full volume. “Change of plans, Darkwood. Drop your pack, I want you to run to the commissary as fast as you can, and then back here to finish your laps!” He twisted the orb off again.
Amber turned and looked back at where the two men were standing, but she was too far away to determine what kind of expression she had on her face.
The pack fell to the ground and then she began running. No, it looked more like skiing as she took large bounds with each stride. She flew toward the far side of the compound at least twice as fast as any other soldier could run.
“Using her telekinesis on her own legs?” Greenfield asked, his teeth gritting.
Baum nodded.
“Have you seen her results on the shooting range?” the sergeant asked. “Absolutely impeccable. I asked her about it and she said that if she's close enough to 'touch' the target with her mind she can line up the rifle to match the barrel with the target exactly, something about 'casting a thread' between the two. Not to mention the fact that she doesn't have to take her hand off the trigger to chamber the next round. She's basically been practicing trick shots; firing as fast as she can, firing at multiple targets in succession... Now she's practicing throwing knives from her belt when she runs out of ammo. She draws smiley faces on the targets because shooting the bullseye is too easy.”
Amber had already come back into view. She skied her way back to her pack which promptly floated up and onto her back while she waved her hands around.
Baum continued. “Despite being a child, so long as she has an orb on her chest and a healthy supply of mana, she can outperform anyone in the Army.”
With a slightly irate tone the general spat out “She's a god-damned super-soldier!”
With a defeated expression the sergeant turned to his superior. “Sir, I understand why you want to keep her out of the Army, but... I think we need her.”
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