Chapter Twenty-Two: A Shift in Priorities

"Don't throw them away!" Her father fumed as he moved in to swipe the books from Viktoriya before stuffing them into his coat pocket. "They are perfectly pristine. How many worldwide have the signatures of the Tzar and his Philosopher on the same page?"

Viktoriya silently obliged her father before moving away from the trashcan in a huff. Sensing discomfort, her mother quickly moved in for a talk.

"Your father shouldn't have disowned you," she said softly.

"And yet he did it anyway." The young girl replied with a wisp of fire in her words. This prompted her mother to glare quite harshly in return.

"He is still your father, Viktoriya." the mother lectured before her voice went soft. "But we still love you. We all do."

Then why didn't you look for me? The veteran wanted to scream.

"Did you find any interesting men to bring home?" Her cossack father barged into the conversation with a sudden vodka bottle in hand. "You didn't get into trouble while you were out there?"

Thankfully, the matriarch politely shoved her husband away from the small talk that was going on.

"Is there anyone you like?" she inquired of her daughter, now that her husband had brought up the subject.

"Just one. Only one." the brunette replied defensively, much to her mother's growing disappointment.

"The Ace of Aces? Degurechaff?"

Viktoriya nodded once before quickly averting her gaze.

"My dear Visha, don't do that…"

"What?! All this talk of loving me and caring for me and wanting me to find my place in this world but Degurechaff is not good enough for you?! She is the only mage in this entire continent that can destroy the entire Soviet Federation by nightfall but you don't think that's good enough for us. Why? I can think for myself! I killed men twice my age and thrice my size. By the thousands!"

"Visha…please…I know it's the vogue for young men and women to…explore deviant tastes." her mother paused to give one highly judgmental stare at an androgynous couple leaving a nightclub. Were they two men? Two women? A crossdressing man with a crossdressing woman? God only knows but if looks could kill, the disgust in her mother's eyes would have been enough to immolate the couple. "I don't think you should be part of that crowd and I don't want my daughter to be pressured to join in on that wave of degeneracy. It's an affront on God, tradition, and all that we hold dear as White Russites."

"White Russites…" Viktoriya repeated bitterly. "What does it mean to be a White Russy? In Germania of all places?"

"There's nothing wrong fighting for the Tzar." her mother assures her. "To fight for the liberation of the Motherland from Godless Tyranny. These people…they don't know about us. They don't know what we had to leave behind. What we had to sacrifice to come in…"

"But Degurechaff knows. She knows."

"Visha…I am your mother and want nothing for you to be safe and sound."

"And I want to run away!" Viktoriya snapped. "I should have volunteered."

"There is a man out there for you. We just have to find him." her mother smiled weakly. "Trust me, we will find him. We just need to look in the right place."

"It's that half-breed of a classmate of yours." Her father belched. "That bitch with shit-colored hair…what was it…ah, Elena the Judean. Cut her out of your life! She is a bad influence on you. Can't ever trust Judeans. Even half-breeds."

Her mother nodded in agreement. "I still can't believe the Imperial War College allowed Judeans to enter."

They don't. Viktoriya thought. Elena said so in the past.

"Elena is my friend. My only friend. I like her." She defended her classmate yet half her soul aligned with her father's words. Elena did betray her. Betrayed her and left her to be cast out into the cold universe.

"Judeans in the banks. Judeans in the schools. Judeans in the government. Everything they touch turns to shit!" her father bellowed, much to Viktoriya's growing frustration. It's a good thing they were holding this conversation in Kievan instead of Germanian. "Tzar Nikolas the First should have killed them all when he had the chance, instead of just exiling them to Siberia."

True to her mother's word, for the remainder of the month, Viktoriya was dragged by the wrists back into her greater RNOD community. While it was rather comforting to be surrounded by like-minded individuals, certainly when the male company did not demean or belittle her national service, it only widened the gaping hole in her heart. A gnawing pit that grew more difficult to ignore. Truth be told, it was window shopping for her. A break from her return to paramilitary training and street combat.

Granted, the men she was introduced to were undeniably strong and handsome; whether clean-shaven or sporting facial hair, courteous, valorous, and financially well-off - relatively speaking. These men were warriors, bred to be true and loyal to the Tzar, their conviction impeachable and honor undeniable. Their jokes made her laugh, their war stories invoked awe and appreciation, and their tales of exile brought tears and joyous hope for a better tomorrow. In the face of overwhelming destruction, it was comforting that she was not alone in the crusade against Bolshevism.

But they were not Tanya von Degurechaff; poor substitutes for the Ace of Aces. The living Saint of War and Death were insurmountable; they were not. Even the greatest of the White mages Viktoriya reckons she can snap in half with her bare hands. What is an iron stick to a tungsten rod? Perhaps in another life, she would have settled into a mediocre marriage, content to be someone's meek housewife to a soldier or priest. But here? Living with the knowledge of a clearly superior choice, she eventually rejected them all.

A grave dereliction of her traditional duties as a Russite woman.

In Viktoriya's eyes, however…

Good enough just isn't good enough.

No matter how many times her parents deny it.

No matter how many times Father Gregori prayed for her cleanliness.

She knows her love is real. As real as the blood that painted her knuckles. Oh, how the carnage sang to her heart! The crunching of bone, the tearing of flesh, the splatter of brain matter and teeth; surely, this is exactly what the Argent Silver felt every time she went into battle. It seemed so silly looking at her past self, the old Visha that would squirm at the sight of a bleeding paper cut, but here, in these streets - from Silesia to Saxony - plunging her hand into the belly of a National Vanguardist and ripping out his intestines proved remarkably easy.

Julius Rohr will fear her like he would the Devil.

Her love is real. How could it not? When God revealed his infinite grace and boundless compassion towards her plight, how could her parents refuse her? It was so…irritating when the truth was right before their eyes. The ignorance of the Patriarch, she could forgive; the arrogance of her peers, she could forget; but the constant refusal from her family ate away at the familial love and replaced it with growing resentment. A sensation she purged from her body through an excessive application of bodily mutilation of Tanya's enemies.

The bloodlust is just…

Not enough. Not Enough.

Every skull she cracked, every spine she broke, every finger she tore off, Viktoriya felt her idol smiling upon her. An infectious joy that was only matched by the reunion with the 203rd. Out with the Freikorps, in with the Kaiserliche Sicherheitsabteilung…

Poor Weiss, Konig, and Neumann looked exhausted in their efforts to halt the communists from pushing into Westphalia though Elena, the self-proclaimed leader of the KSA, looked rather amused upon laying eyes on Viktoriya. Behind closed doors, Weiss took the time to explain Tanya's final words to him before her departure to Yugoslavia. The Major was waiting for her the entire time - to come back? Viktoriya's cheeks went as red as roses in embarrassment. It didn't matter anymore. She wanted in. She wanted to take the fight to the Reds. Interestingly enough, the paperwork was already filled out for her as they only required her signature; Weiss had been planning to reintegrate the White Russy one way or another.

Her parents, on the other hand…

"NO." Her father grunted, stabbing a fork into a boiled egg. Eggs, ham, and smoked beef were a nice break of change for dinner.

"Father." Viktoriya protested, "I thought you hated the Reds."

"It's not who you're fighting against, it's whom you're fighting with," he replied harshly.

"Who? Weiss?"

That prompted the aging cossack to slam his utensils down on the table with a solid huff. He glared incredulously at his wife; her expression indicated she heard the same.

"Weiss - what? No. that's not… we've already been through this before." His voice just fell short of shouting. "It's Elena!"

"She is my friend!" Viktoriya answered sharply.

"She's Judean. A sneaky, conniving little -"

"Elena is a Germanian."

"A Judean."

"A Germanian!" she didn't know why she was so adamant about defending the honor of her former roommate; her body felt the urge to protect the last anchor to her innocent past.

"She is the reason why you are so…so…"

"So what, Father?" Viktoriya demanded. "SO WHAT?!"

"So queerlike…" He finished with a sigh, dithering over his utensils. "She has been feeding you poisonous thoughts about the female body and the female soul."

"Does it really have to be the KSA?" Her mother spoke up, trying to steer the conversation away. "Why not go west with your friends in the RNOD?"

"They're not my friends," Viktoriya grumbled, "Not like Elena and the 203rd are. Besides, they just want me."

"It's not a bad idea." Her father grunted. "Take a few strong cossack men to the west and if Elena does any more Judean trickery on you, they can kill her."

Now, Viktoriya's blood was boiling. Elena is different. Not like the other Judeans that lived as parasites to the Empire. She was one of the loyal ones. The good ones that the Ace of Aces openly praised and defended in the newspapers and radio. Elena is a friend. A good friend. A great friend. Her last true friend.

Who else can she turn to when the Major is not there? Who else can she confined to?

After a while, it was only natural to return to the apartment she shared with Tanya. However, that meant Viktoriya had to be the one to cover the expenses in her roommate's absence. What a way to suck the joy out of her bank account. It was a minor consolation that she was out of her parent's house; she loved them dearly but was quickly sick of being dragged into an affair with a fellow Cossack. The truth is, she was sick in general. Viktoriya was neither the daughter her parents wanted nor the soldier the Empire wanted.

Well, "wanted" in so far that her body would absorb the bullets that would prove fatal to the real hero of the Empire.

The Kaiser's sword mocked Viktoriya. The photos laughed at her. The medals ignored her. Her spirit was slandered every morning and evening. It was enough to drive her mad in envious rage. The voice of the Major returned in full; her rage indomitable in the dark recess of her dreams. It was a cruel return to misery and wretched shame. Was Tanya laughing at her?

How does Weiss handle it? How does Konig and Neumann? It was almost maddening to see their relaxed if burdened faces at each encounter.

God has shown her the destination; if only he has shown the route as well. Yet, even that encounter felt like a false hope. One final gasp to stay noble.

At least she didn't have to stay with Father Schugel anymore. No more deranged sermons with pseudo-heretical ramblings. Since when does physics apply to holy scripture?

"Viktoriya…" Weiss' voice pierced through the silent air. With her back into the fold, the 203rd company commanders and Elena felt comfortable enough to return to their usual base of operations. It took the entire day to clean up the mess that was left untouched since the Major's return. "There's another meeting that is occurring at General Zettour's estate that you should attend."

"Why me?" she replied, perhaps a bit too harshly at her comrade.

"Because we're going to Hamburg," Konig grumbled. "A communist uprising is occurring there."

"A revolution…?"

"A small fire." Neumann corrected, "But we won't be able to attend the conference in the meantime; it's all hands on deck to crush the traitorous plotters in that liberal city. But you can appear in our stead and help Elena represent us."

"That's…good," Viktoriya said slowly, turning to face her former roommate. "Why me? You know what I did…I'm sure Tanya told all of you before she left."

"You're the mage who spent the most amount of time around the Major." Elena shrugged. Her expression did not match the joyous chirp in her voice. "And the most powerful now that the Major is in Wien."

"Yes, but…"

"Visha," Weiss muttered, "Our only concern here is the preservation of Germania and the legacy of the Empire. Everything else is secondary."

"But she did tell you why she expelled me?"

"It's best if we do not dwell on past endeavors when so much doubt is placed on our future," Konig spoke up. "But yes, she did. Weiss gave us a summary. Right now, we have greater threats to consider."

"There was another assassination attempt," Elena enlightened her friend without a hint of alarm. "The communists have been following her."

"Anything else…?" The White Russy paled slightly.

"She is fermenting a revolution to overthrow the Osterrian Republic."

"Well…that's good news." Viktoriya nodded slightly, "You know how?"

"Come on, Viktoriya." Neumann smirked, "Elena has eyes everywhere; girls have been following the Major since she first left for Pullska."

"Ah, of course."

"You can bring another person with you," Weiss added, "For the meeting, whichever you prefer. I rather not Elena be the only woman in that room."

"Your chivalry is commendable." the spymaster replied sarcastically. "But he speaks the truth; the guest list this time sounds unpleasant."

"Like who?" Viktoriya inquired, skeptical that Elena could be intimidated by names alone.

"Herr Schleich and Papier."

"I'm sure you girls can handle it." Konig perked up, "We faced worse."

"Should I call in the Tzar-in-Exile?" Viktoriya asked her peers. It was the first name that popped into her mind at the offer of a third attendee.

"I don't see why not." Weiss shrugged. "There is no better time to unite the coalition."

"You mean, 'our' coalition?" Elena pressed.

"Tanya's coalition," Neumann spoke up. "If the Tzar does show up, we would stand to gain further cooperation from the White exiles. We need solidarity above all else. Even if they are…well, I don't need to say it aloud."

"And that's where you come in, Visha," Konig said. "You're familiar enough to Zettour to allow for further White Russo-Germanian cooperation."

"Until he doesn't need me." Viktoriya gave a sideways smile.

"Ah, don't be like that." Weiss shook his head. "You're important to us. To the Major. To the Empire. That is the only thing that matters. Zettour is just one old Junker."

"Ah…thanks. I needed to hear that. So when does the meeting take place?"

"Next week," Neumann announced. "In eight days. Hopefully, you still have that black uniform."