Deus lo Vult (Tanya Degurechaff)
|Deus lo Vult (Tanya Degurechaff)|
|Date of Cutscene:||08 June 2017|
|Location:||Berun, The Empire|
|Synopsis:||Tanya is confronted by Being X, who promises a new miracle. The following day, at Strategic Command...|
|Cast of Characters:||Tanya Degurechaff|
Late evening, a young girl in a nightgown finishes tidying her uniform, topping it off by hanging her cap beside it. She props her hands on her hips, inspecting for unsightly wrinkles or discoloration. Finding none, she smirks.
A training battalion. Things are finally going the way I want them. Nothing like molding some worthless men into real soldiers safe on the back line.
Eyes closing, she twirls towards her bed, trotting the few paces to it.
Finally, things are going my way! Let the strategic arm deal with the war on their own for a while.
There's a sudden, deep sound, and she stops. That familiar sound, the sensation of 'not right'. Letting out a scoff, she swings her gaze to the window. Outside, the gentle rain has come to a complete stop. Droplets hanging, frozen in midair. Her eyes shoot to the simple nutcracker resting on her windowsill.
"Haven't you got anything better to do?"
It has been some time, now.
She hates that voice. The voice that speaks without speaking. She turns to face the nutcracker directly, a scowl creeping across her face, "I would call the military police, but I'd have a hard time convincing them to arrest something that doesn't exist. Isn't that right, Being X?"
Your attitude is as unacceptable as ever. I merely wish to congratulate you.
The girl scoffs again.
Though I keep myself to a minimum of intervention, I have watched quite intently. You have a talent for engaging a challenge and surpassing it. And so I have decided to reward your efforts with another miracle.
"I don't need nor want your miracles," she snorts, folding her arms, "You've caused me enough trouble already, and I've beaten you at every turn." Leaning forward, she looms over the nutcracker, her face splitting into a nasty grin, "So why don't you just admit defeat, already?"
There is still plenty of time. Go forth with My blessing. And spread the word of God.
The wide grin becomes an intense frown. Raising a hand, the girl slaps the nutcracker off its perch. Upon hitting the floor, it shatters into pieces, and she fixes a hateful glare on it. Time un-sticks itself, and the subtle whisper of rain outside the window resumes.
A blessing. Ludicrous! What cheating 'miracle' is he going to force on me now!?
The following day.
"A fine agreement, sir," General Kurt von Rudersdorf admits in an amicable tone, puffing on a thick cigar. He lowers the papers he'd been reviewing, eyes lifting to fixate on the diplomat opposite him, "I see no reason to object to such an arrangement. In exchange for support from your Concord, we'll place one of our elite mages at your disposal." With his other hand, he dips into a drawer. A folder is produced and handed over, "Review these dossiers at your leisure. I'm sure we'll find a way to spare whichever mage suits your needs."
"I'm glad we could reach acceptable terms," Ambassador Helgen admits with a nod. Reaching forward, he accepts the folder and cracks it open, thumbing through papers, "Your Empire is quite surprising, General. I'm continually impressed...Hmm?" He pauses, tilting his head to better read some lettering protruding from the stack of papers. Deus lo Vult.
God Wills It.
Skipping to the marked page, Helgen removes a text-scrawled dossier, "Oh, my. Such an impressive war record for this one. Her qualities suit our needs quite perfectly." Reaching, he offers the paper to Rudersdorf, "Per our agreement, then, the Concord shall retain the services of Major Degurechaff."